Message-ID: <20869eli$9903300226@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: MelLin6695@aol.com Subject: New TG from Waldo - Wreck - Part 9 of 10 Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-transfer-encoding: 7bit Content-type: text/plain; charset=US-ASCII 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: Chapter 9 - The front porch discussion I rush out onto the front porch, and stumblingly sit down in the swing. I stare at the beautiful mountain lake in the valley below, my eyes not really seeing anything as millions of confusing thoughts flip-flop through my uncomprehending mind. The woman that I know as Marcy Davenport, is really my best friend Jimmy - after his sex change. The pretty woman's feminine body that I just spent the weekend fucking - was born with a dick. The woman that I fell in love with - is the same guy that used to play grab-ass with me in school. "BUT IT ISN'T HIM" - I scream to myself as I try to sort my thoughts. This woman's personality is more aggressive, domineering, and feminine than Jimmy ever was. Whoever this person is, it is someone new - someone with Jimmy's memories, but with her own very unique personality. The screen door creaks as she opens and steps out onto the porch. She had quickly dressed, pulling on some tight-fitting jeans and a blouse - the jiggling and thrusting nipples indicates that she didn't take the time to put on a bra. She has wiped the mascara from her cheeks where her tears ruined her makeup, creating a weird appearance - the makeup above her eyes is still perfect, yet below her eyes is a smudged dark area. She sits down on one of the wooden chairs about five feet from me and nervously lights a cigarette. She turns her face, letting her mussed-up hair hang down over her face, hiding her face for the moment. As I stare at her bright-red fingernail polish on her manicured fingers that are holding the cigarette, I recognize another difference - Jimmy isn't a smoker. We stare at each other - me with a confused look on my face and her with a hurt look on her face. Her voice tremble as she explains "I never meant to hurt you. Really. In my daydream world where I used to plan for our future together, you always accepted me as your woman - and quickly fell in love with me because I was your perfect woman. Many times we married each other as I walked down the aisle in my white wedding gown. In my fantasies, we were always the perfect couple, living in a nice bungalow, with our adopted children. Yeah, I had a rich fantasy life. It wasn't about sex but about being your woman - your mate - the love of your life. I knew that I could be the perfect woman that you wanted. Over the years of being your best friend, you told me everything about your ideal woman and after my accident, I used your frequently expressed desires to shape myself into that type of woman even though it wasn't really the woman that I wanted to become. You wanted a cunt - fuck the normal game-type flirting relationships and all that other bullshit. You wanted a woman to fuck you and admit that she is just as horny as you are. So I became that woman, that cunt; you've got to admit that I'm the best fuck you've ever had. I planned to make you fall in love with the phony me that I created to satisfy your desires; then to get you to learn to love the real me. I would then slowly let my real personality come forth, showing you the real me as we learn to love each other and to build our lifelong relationship." She holds the cigarette up to her trembling lips that are still glossy with her lipstick, sucking a deep breath of the warm smoke into her lungs, trying to use her cigarette as a narcotic to ease the pain that she obviously is feeling. Her red lips purse around the cigarette as she sucks on it, drawing the smoke into her body, reminding me that it is those same bright-red lips that were wrapped around my cock earlier. I remembered how phenomenal her blow job was; how wonderful her soft lips felt, how warm her wet mouth was as her playful tongue expertly teased my throbbing cock. Remembering how excited I was, when I pumped my sputtering cum down her willing mouth - remembering how I stared at the trace of red lipstick on my cock from where her lips so lovingly squeezed me and satisfied me. Snapping myself back to reality, I feel the warm arousal as my cock stirs in my jeans. An erection is something that I don't want at that moment - my big head is going to have to do the thinking, not my little head that can be so easily swayed. I squirm slightly as I change position for the fifth time since she joined me. Brushing aside a long lock of hanging-down mused-up blonde hair with her other hand, she whispers "What's wrong with me? Please tell me." Shifting my position in the swing, I mumble, "There's nothing wrong with you. I just don't know what to say. It's very shocking to discover that my best friend had his balls cut off and that I fucked him." "I lost my balls in the wreck. They weren't able to save them or rebuild my penis so that it could ever be a functional penis again. I was going to spend the rest of my life, with a quarter inch long pee- spout, squatting to pee like a woman, never able to have sex, always being the odd person in any group. Although the sex change is something that I always secretly really wanted, the accident left me with only one option where I could have a reasonable chance to have a somewhat normal life. So I willingly took the only option that was open to me. I walked away from my old life and started a new life. One that I'm trying to share with you." she screams, her voice breaking up as she starts sobbing again. For a minute, we sit there - me in my swing and she sobbing in the chair. Raising her head to stare at me, she angrily flicks the cigarette butt into the yard, then her voice changes - changes to the more masculine voice that I easily recognize as Jimmy's new voice from my telephone discussions with him. It is a shock to hear his voice coming from her mouth. "I told you that day in the hospital that I had made my mind up about my life and that I would tell you about it later. I guess it's time to tell you everything." She stands up and walks over to the beer cooler, removing a couple of beers. I stare as she bends at the waist, her ass pointed at me as her jeans stretch tight over the round, hard buns I'd squeezed just hours ago. The same ass that I'd rubbed my cock against as we experimented with different types of foreplay just before I mounted her doggy style. Selecting a couple of cold beers, she turns as she throws me a beer then sits back down in her chair facing me, as she pops her beer top. "I'm not sure how well I can articulate this although I've thought about this moment for a long time. Only I thought that we would be naked in our bed, I would be lying on your chest and you would be cuddling me, teasingly playing with my hair as I talk to you about my former life. That dream version of you would be very open-minded and understanding. After I identified myself and explain why I did what I did; then you would pull me close to you and hold me as we became one. Yes, we would become one soul - one love sharing two bodies." She chugs a quick swallow of beer and continues "But you want to hear how I became Marcy. As a kid, I always felt different. Things didn't seem right with me from the time that I was four years old. I remember playing with the girls and playing dolls with them, then my father made my mother take my dolls away and buy me toy trucks; perhaps sensing that I had a stronger feminine personality than his expected male personality. I didn't want the trucks but I was told to play with toys that will help me become more athletic. I was told to play ball with the boys instead of sitting around talking with the girls. I tried, but by the time I hit the six grade, I'm a mental mess inside. I know something is wrong inside me - but don't know what is wrong. I just know that I have to pretend to be somebody that isn't the real me." She pauses, staring at me with her still slightly teary eyes, then the voice changes again, becoming softer but still sounding like the voice that I now know to be Jimmy's voice. "We were already best friends at that time and I constantly wanted to tell you how I really felt, but I was always afraid that you would laugh at me and leave me because you wouldn't understand me. I watched you and the others in our class tease that little obviously effeminate boy and didn't want anyone doing that to me - especially you who I trusted and thought of as my big brother at that time. In the sixth grade, I became aware that the girls in our class were metamorphosing, that their bodies were changing as they began to fill out with feminine curves. I watched as their personalities also changed - as much as their wardrobe and appearance changed. I realized that I really wanted to be a girl and began to doubt my sanity. I discovered that I suffered from something that a magazine article called Vagina Envy - and most importantly that there are many others like me. I reinforced my developing self-image by finding other articles, discovering the slightly hidden world of transvestites - men who liked to dress in women's clothing. Later, I was able to further classify myself, determining that I have a gender problem where I'm not a man who merely wants to wear women's clothes but that I am really a girl in a boy's body. That I was born as the wrong sex. As a twelve year old kid, I had a hard time hiding the real way that I felt but somehow I did it. It was hard at times and I wanted someone that I could talk to about the way that I felt. You don't know how many times over the years that I came very close to telling you my deepest secret as we sat around talking to each other. You were the closest person to me. Did you ever suspect that something was different or wrong with me?" Thinking back to that time period, I remembered how obsessed I was at that time, in becoming a future football star. While I also noticed that the girls were filling out a little and acting more coquettish, I was definitely more interested in football statistics - until the eighth grade when I discovered that Angie Bledsoe had the most beautiful ass under her tight jeans. I remember that before I discovered Angie that I told Jimmy off one day because he was spending too much time hanging around the girls instead of practicing football with me. Then after discovering Angie, I began spending a lot of time with the girls myself. Pulling myself back from my reminiscing to the current time, I shake my head negatively. Accepting my nod as an answer, she continues "I began feeling a little bit better about myself, when I discovered that I wasn't the only person in the world with those confusing desires. I developed an internal image of myself as a real woman. My dream version of me was a petite redhead, about five foot four inches tall, slim, a nice ass, with perky breasts, puffy nipples, luscious lips, and emerald green eyes. You remember when I got off on that reincarnation kick in the eighth grade - reading everything I could find about past lives? Well, that was because I began to strongly believe that maybe I was really a woman in a past life - thus my still strong womanly desires and female feelings. I quit talking to you about my reincarnation studies because you started kidding me about being a former king, not realizing that I was honestly trying to find evidence that I was a former queen or handmaiden in a past life." "I didn't know any better and I was a punk kid back then. I remember joking with you, calling you 'Your Lordship', not realizing that you were serious." I respond, remembering that reincarnation period quite well. "You scared me, driving me further into my phony shell, showing one personality to the world while I hide my real personality until I'm in the privacy of my locked room in my mother's house. Then later in high school, you force me to double-date with you. Up until that time, I thought that I was a lesbian trapped in a man's body. That I would eventually find a woman who would accept me for who I am and that we would live happily forever as I share her wardrobe in the privacy of our bedroom. Remember that first weekend with the Harrison Twins out at the lake when the four of us shared a blanket? I never admitted it but I lost my virginity that weekend. I perform my first cunnilingus on Maggie, while you are fucking Alice on inches from me. For some reason, I began a daydream fantasy as my tongue probed her and began pretending that I was the woman that you were fucking, becoming so aroused that I spurted my cum onto the blanket almost without any physical stimulation. Maggie thought it was because I was enjoying her so much and later she spent a lot of nights, trying to duplicate that reaction; only she didn't realize that I was constantly pretending that she was you and I was Alice. From that weekend on, you became my fantasy sex partner as I masturbated myself to sleep in the privacy of my bedroom and I was always your perfect woman. It was so easy to dream the typical teenage girl type fantasies about you - your big body and handsome face. Your long cock which I saw so many times while we skinny-dipped. There are several times that we swam and I developed an erection, being so close to your naked body. While I continued to see Maggie, it was only because it was what was expected of me and that it helped hide my real personality. I discovered that my mental fantasies resulted in a far more powerful and enjoyable orgasm, than my physical ejaculation into Maggie." We stare at each other. When I don't say anything, she continues "Back then I wasn't too poor because I got a nice allowance every week, thanks to Dad's insurance money. I started buying different female paraphernalia, starting with lipstick, then panty hose, eventually migrating to wearing my mother's clothes while she was at work. I used to raid the outside clothes dump down at the charity house, searching for feminine articles that would fit me, building a large wardrobe of women's clothes up in the attic. While Mom worked, I pranced around the house, wearing dresses, nylons, and heels as if I was a real woman. I let my hair grow long and kept it pulled back into a ponytail when I was out of the house. At night I wore the sheerest, frilliest nightgowns that I could find, which eventually became my downfall. I thought that my mother had already left for work one morning and I walked into the kitchen, wearing a frilly nightgown, panties, a padded bra and lipstick - only to stare at my mother who was sitting at the table drinking coffee. She just smiled and said she understood. I cried that morning, as she held me and listened to me - the first person that I ever revealed my true feelings to. My mother understood me and had suspected for several months that I was hiding something. She took the rest of the day off from work and talked to me - in a mother to daughter style, letting me know that while she wanted a son, she also wanted me to be happy. She followed me up into the attic and I changed into my favorite dress and heels. She led me back downstairs and applied makeup to me - it wasn't my first experience with makeup, but it was the first time that I looked real. I'll never forget sitting there, with my long hair teased, my face perfectly made up, and my mother accepting me as a female." She tilts her hear as she turns the beer can up, emptying it in two long gulps; then she crumples the empty beer can with one hand, flinging the can toward the garbage can. Belching as she stands up, I recognize Jimmy's personality as I also stare at Marcy's body - her nice ass pointed at me again as she bends over the beer cooler again. Sitting back down with another beer, she continues "After a week of sharing my secret with my mother, she did something that scared me. She told me that we were going to take a few days off from school to go see a distant cousin, only she drives me to an out-of-town doctor. When I walk into that doctor's office with her, I start crying, feeling betrayed by her; not realizing that she is doing it for my own good. Four hours later, I'm floating on cloud nine as we left - the doctor answered all of my mother's questions about my strange desires and told her that years of counseling probably won't change me and to let me be the person that I want to be. Maybe I will grow out of it. We returned home and she allowed me to look the way that I desired around the house. I would take a bath and change into my garters, nylons, and frilly lingerie or paraded around the house in a dress. My mother never criticized me or made me feel odd for enjoying my secret lifestyle. She always suggested that I should tell you but didn't push it. I suspected that she knew that there was another secret that I was keeping from her - how I feel about you." She tips her beer can, pausing to take a sip, but as she resumes talking, her voice changes back to Marcy's voice. "Sometimes you would call and I would be in my Marcy clothes; and I would lie on my bed, staring at my beautiful made-up face and dressed-up body in the mirror as I talked to you in my masculine voice. Other times, you came by unexpectedly and Mom lied for me as I hid behind my bedroom door listening to you. Then came our high school graduation and prom night. You were dating Donna very heavy and I was so jealous of her that I couldn't tolerate her. I tried to break the two of you up, knowing that I couldn't have you and that I didn't want her to have you. I wanted to be your prom date and came very close to telling you my secret. But I chickened out and let you waste your time by dating her. I would go out to the lake at night and wait, knowing that you also bring her out to our special spot. I watched you fuck her several different nights while I hid in the bushes. By that time, my self image of myself changed because I was still fantasizing about becoming the woman of your dreams - the fantasy woman that you used to tell me about how she looked and acted. The dream me was no longer the small, petite redhead. I was now a stunning sex pot - the type of woman parodied by the Jessica Rabbit cartoons. I was slightly taller - about five foot ten, wanting my lips to reach your lips by tilting my head. My fantasy self-image had a curvaceous figure - 38DD-24-38. And that's when I discovered that I couldn't satisfy my repressed desires anymore." She shifts her position as she stares at the open can of beer she is holding, her voice becoming softer as she continues her story. "Instead of being satisfied with simple secondhand blouses and skirts to dress myself in my bedroom, I purchased a floor-length evening dress, slit up to the upper thigh on one side and cut very low in the bodice. Thanks to some silicone falsies, an underwire bra, and a little bit of tape, I was able to fake cleavage and hold the dress up. It was a beautiful dress that I reserved for special nights - taking a long leisurely bath, being able to shave my legs because I didn't have to worry any more about being exposed in Physical Ed class. I always overdid my makeup, coating my cherry red lips lavishly, glossing them to a perfection that only a photographer can appreciate. I had a beautiful blonde wig that I would put on and then I would drive over to the next town, flirting with men at red lights, limiting my escapades to walking into a seven-eleven to buy a pack of cigarettes, watching the attendant watch me - knowing that he wanted me, while I'm wishing that it is you looking at me the way he lusted after me. That's how I started smoking - I had a glove compartment full of cigarettes and I thought that smoking a cigarette made me look so sophisticated. I quickly learned to enjoy the slight high from the cigarette smoking and to use my cigarette to make me seem more feminine. Or to use as a diversion when I started feeling awkward - such as when a man would sit down across from me in a restaurant booth, and is hitting on me. I became a very familiar customer at some of the truck stops up and down the Interstate, always being careful to not leave with anyone." "I didn't know or realize that you were leading that double life. I thought that you were either mucking with that damn computer or writing that novel that you hinted at occasionally " I blurt as she lights another cigarette. Blowing a cloud of smoke, she continues still using Jimmy's more masculine voice "You were so busy fucking Donna and following her ass around, that I had plenty of time to live my secret live. I was feeling very confident in my impersonation, although I hated my face and teeth - my buck teeth looked so out of place when I smiled. Anyhow, you know that I took several weeks off and visited several colleges to see where I wanted to go to school. Well, I was really living out-of-town, talking to my doctor who has been following me every three months up until then. Talking to him about going all the way and listening to him expound on why I shouldn't, knowing that he has a legal responsibility to try to talk me out of it. Away from home, I could dress full time, although I didn't shape my eyebrows, knowing that they wouldn't grow back in time if I had to come home. I learned everything I ever wanted to know about push up bras, slips, half slips, camisoles, perfumes, demi bras, and all those mystic wonders of the feminine world. I spent weeks perfecting my feminine image as I lived full time as a woman. I developed a bubbling, vivacious personality, as I pranced around the malls, wearing a skintight blouse that showed my phony silicone nipples; a tiny miniskirt to expose my legs and I flirted with guys. At night, I wouldn't go to bars because I didn't have any id's with my female picture, but I would go to places where I could blend into the crowd. I met some women, who accepted me as genuine, although there is a couple of women who looked at me funny as if they recognized my androgynous body for what it really was. Although I wore the right clothes and makeup, my facial shape and body frequently raised doubts in someone's mind. I dieted constantly, trying to keep my body slender and to hide the natural male muscular shape. I punished myself if I gained two pounds, fighting to keep every inch of me firm, trim, and athletically curvy, while using lotions to keep every inch of me as baby soft and silky smooth as possible without hormones. I blended in with my new friends, feeling more comfortable talking with a woman. I came back home to see my mother and couldn't wait to leave again, feeling so trapped in my male personality and clothes. The only thing that saved me, is that you had just broken up with Donna and you were spending a lot of time with me. So I continued my beer-chugging, belching, farting, best friend role, riding around with you in your truck, wishing that I had the nerve to tell you who I really was - sometimes wanting to scream at the top of my voice that I am mentally a woman when you were telling me about the latest fuck - and how great she was. When you started dating Donna again, I went back to school again - remember?" "Yeah. I thought you are mad at me because I backed out of going to the football game with you and took Donna instead." I respond, looking at my still unopened beer. "I was mad. So mad that I was afraid to be around you. Afraid that I would blow my top and reveal my true feelings - and drive you away from me forever. So I packed my bags and went back to the world that I created for myself. I drove all night, checked back into my cheap rented trailer and spent the day transforming myself into the sexy, attractive woman that I knew that I can be. That evening, I picked up my first man, letting him bribe a bouncer to let me into the bar. I melted my body against him, rubbing my body against him as we danced, whispering sweet nothings into his ear, feeling his hard cock press against me. I led him out to the parking lot and I had.. my first homosexual experience - as I kept fantasizing that it was you that I was blowing. I gave him a blow job as he leaned back on his car hood. We went back into the bar and I went to the bathroom to repair my makeup. As I stared at myself in the mirror, I started crying and couldn't stop. I ran from the bar and back to my trailer, where I gargled and threw my dress away, feeling revulsion at what I just did." She pauses to light a cigarette before continuing "For three day's afterwards I moped around my trailer - dressing only in my Jimmy clothes, feeling sorry for myself - hating myself, feeling so despondent and alone - so many strange and hurting emotions. I loaded my shotgun and let it sit in my kitchen, half of me wanting to end my life - the other half wanting to change my life. I wandered around town, dressed in my male clothes, trying to convince myself that it was over - that my female life is wrong and that I had to find a way to live as Jimmy. I went back to the trailer to burn my female clothes and come back home. However, I couldn't do it. I dressed again and stayed in my trailer for another day. The woman that walked out of that trailer the following night - was a new woman. A woman with a purpose. I picked up a man, had him take me to a motel room where I blew him. When I was ready for him to fuck me in the ass, he became angry when he discovered my tucked away cock and silicone boobs. He knocked me around and left me on the motel floor - my dress ripped, my face bruised, his cum still smeared across my face. Three days later, I went out again - and was no longer a virgin. I found someone to give it to me and he enjoyed fucking me as much as I enjoyed his cock inside my body - especially when he knew that I has a cock and he really enjoying doing a sixty-nine with me. Two days later, he moved into my trailer with me - and I put my shotgun away. I now had a reason for living. His name is Charlie and he gave me the confidence that I needed. I was his woman and he was my man. He wanted me to retain my male genitalia so he could suck me or be fucked by me while retaining the illusion of being in a relationship with a woman. While I fucked him, I greatly preferred being on the receiving end of his cock. The people that saw us shopping, in the movies, or in church thought that we were a normal couple. He pushed me to develop my femininity more, except I still didn't shape my eyebrows, knowing that sooner or later I would come back here and have to face you again." She arches her eyebrows as she stares at me. "So I woke up one morning knowing that it was time to come home and to see if you could accept me as a woman. I drove here as Marcy and drove by your house, wondering what I was going to do - to introduce the new me to you. I quickly tired of circling the block and went to my mother's house. When I woke up the next morning, I changed into my Jimmy identity. As Jimmy, I found you in Donna's arms again and that destroyed my attitude and resolutions. I wanted to switch back to my female personality and dress and kept telling myself every morning that today is the day that I will tell you the truth. Only when I saw you, I couldn't open my mouth to say the first word. I lost my courage. My money was running low, so I stayed busy working at the restaurant, knowing it will only be for a month and I can leave again - never to return again. I hung around, hoping that you would break up with Donna and give me one more chance, because I knew that I would never come back especially as Jimmy. I made my decision and told my mother." Her eyes become damp looking as she pauses. Not knowing what to say, I open my mouth "Look, I don't.." "Please let me continue. It's hard enough as it is, without you making it more difficult." She blurts, puffing on her cigarette, her voice changing back to the Jimmy voice. Holding the cigarette in her mouth, she continues in her male voice "Because my mother put me into therapy when I was so young, I was able to handle most of my gender identity crisis up to a certain point. While in the city, I met a lot of people like me - living a lie - living as the desired gender. Through the support of other Male to Female transvestites, I knew the whole surgery routine and what I needed to do. Making the decision is easy - finding the money to pay for it became the difficult part. I discovered that most of them raise the money for their progressive operations through modeling, acting in pornos, or by prostituting themselves. My mother knew my decision and was working on borrowing the money for me. Then the fateful wreck occurred. My out-of-town doctor had to agree that my body needed major rebuilding and that I would never be a man again - so he immediately authorized my hormone treatment, the implants, and the vagina creation. In return, I underwent an intense psychological counseling as I lived as a woman. The hormones softened my skin and filled out my curves. The rest of it, especially my face and boobs, is the creation of a good plastic surgeon. The medical bills for my surgical procedures were paid by the Senator. Ready for another beer?" -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | | | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | ----