Message-ID: <21184asstr$942541800@assm.asstr-mirror.org> X-Authentication-Warning: backdraft.briar.org: smap set sender to using -f From: vickietern@aol.com (VickieTern) X-Newsreader: Session Scheduler Subject: {ASSM} A Place of her Own by Vickie Tern 4/10 TG F/m Femdom X-Original-Message-ID: <19991111093855.25568.00000041@ngol02.aol.com> X-To: story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us JMDigest-Score: good -20 Date: Sat, 13 Nov 1999 20:10:00 -0500 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: assm-admin {Vickie Tern} NEW TG: A Place of Her Own 4/10, F/m, M/M etc, femdom This story depicts sexual activity of various sorts among consenting if sometimes also credulous and deceived adults. If you are not a consenting adult don't read it, no matter how credulous or deceived. It's not for you. Not yet. I couldn't tell if she was teasing me back. "Yes," I said seriously. "I had some form-fitting outfits that were a little snug. By the end of the week they slid over me quite nicely. You're saying you think it's all right for me to flash myself at other women?" Another quick glance at me. "You'll attract certain kinds of women whether you flash at them or not. No, I meant other men," she said. "I know men aren't your thing right now, but every girl tries them on for size sooner or later, and most women stick with them. Even develop favorites. I did." She flicked her eyes at me yet again. "You mean me," I said. "No, honey. Not you. I mean Andy. But Andy's gone. When I register some court orders I'm carrying here there won't ever have been a boy named Andy. Only a girl named Amy. You. Born that way." "Isn't that a little extreme, Trish? I'm not all Amy you know. There's always some Andy down inside me. I still enjoy being Andy. For some things he's essential." "Of course you enjoy him. We all enjoy our men. But you're now all Amy, sweetie, and if Andy persists and asserts himself we'll have to deal with him by other means. You need a single legal identity in order to own property, have a bank account, pay your taxes, and so forth. You can't be two people. For your consulting, you can still sign yourself 'doing business as' Andy. Women often take male names for business purposes, for obvious reasons. But you'll really need to tell your clients that your associate Amy is as good or better than you and deserves their business. For everything but your consultations you're Amy. It's official. That's what I was doing yesterday. In and out of court, making it official. I could still do it yesterday with Andy's unlimited power of attorney. Remember? We gave those signing instruments to each other soon after we got married? Well, I've now closed out everything of Andy's and Andy is now null and void! Amy is herself, and there is no Andy. Andy is now legally Amy, who has always been a woman. I was sober. A thought struck me. "Andy is now legally Amy? A man is now legally a woman? Then are we still married, Trish?" "Of course we are, sweetheart! In my mind we are! I told you that yesterday! But legally? No. Not any longer. When we changed your birth certificate, our marriage simply ceased to exist. I told you we didn't need a divorce, didn't I?" That was sobering. "I didn't want that," I said. "Maybe not. But you've got it." Was that a flash of determination in her sympathetic glance at me? "You're better off for it, honey. You don't want to feel bound. You're too young to be married. You have your whole life as a woman ahead of you! Play the field!" I was solemn for a moment. Then I had to ask. Again. "So when you tell me to play the field, Trish, you really are telling me to enjoy other women?" We were now approaching Madison, and the traffic took all of her attention. She slowed, and changed lanes, and watched other cars as we moved onto an off ramp. "Of course, honey. If women are your thing. And men too, when you're ready!" I didn't know what to say. This wasn't what I'd anticipated, trying out life as Amy. I'd somehow imagined I suppose that everything to do with Andy would be put on hold until my honeymoon as Amy ended, or until Amy became my main me and Andy an occasional state of mind. If that ever happened. Or something. I wasn't sure what I'd expected. A long real-time gender enactment, then back to who I really was, probably. I was confused, so I wasn't sure I heard what she next said. "You see, Amy, you already know about living the way women live, arranging your hair and shopping the sales, and so forth. And I assume all last week people treated you like a woman and you behaved like one. So that part's not new. What would be new for you is sex as a woman. Making a man feel solicitous and attentive, eager to please you, and then enjoying it as he pleases you. Frankly, Amy, it would relieve my mind, knowing you're out there with other people enjoying yourself. I am. I do. I have. Why shouldn't you?" "What," I asked her? "You've what?" Another quick glance at me, this time sympathetic yet pitying, as we pulled up to the Madison County Building and she pulled into a parking slot, parked, turned off the engine, and set the hand brake. "Played the field, Amy. Slept with other men. Enjoyed them. Lots of them! This is something I'd never tell Andy, of course, it would crush him, the poor dear. But I feel closer to you, Amy. I think you can understand this, woman to woman." She took a deep breath, turned to look directly at me, and then began. "Ever since Andy's first gender meeting a few years ago, Amy. You remember? I was so sure he was going there to get his balls cut off and come back to me a mincing Drag Queen? I'd been resenting this Amy person ever since I first heard about her. I resented that Andy devoted so much time to her. I resented that Andy claimed to be her. I wanted a man. So while he was away being Amy I confided in Carol, and she provided me some wonderful consolations. I think you know about them. She made me feel alive again, desirable as a woman! And she suggested that I confirm those feelings by looking for a man. I did, and I found one. It was quite satisfactory! Different. I spent that whole weekend with him. The sex with him was very good, and I've never regretted it!" She smiled to herself in a self-satisfied way, then continued. "Amy, I've seen him a few times since then, and I can say with perfect assurance that he hasn't in the slightest displaced Andy in my affections. You remember when Andy returned from his meeting feeling less ashamed to be Amy? Less ashamed to be a woman? I loved Andy all the more then, because that made me feel less ashamed to be fucking another man. It was as if Andy had told me it was all right. We both of us were doing what we had to do." She sighed. "Well, honey, then I found other men. I was never promiscuous, but men are all different. Some are rough and some are gentle, and I got to like both the slamming and the caressing. Some have incredibly huge cocks, you'll be amazed how you feel when some are stuffed into you. Others make marvelous moves when they're in you. But all men have huge egos. I had to dominate them from the start. Even then, I doubt I slept with any one man more than a half-dozen times, because men do get ideas. They begin to claim exclusive privileges, and that's when I need to drop them. I might have dropped even you if you'd known about my little adventures and objected to them, but now we'll never know, will we?" "No," I said. I didn't know what else to say. "I always finish each day at the office by fucking my stud-of-the-week, it's so relaxing when you work under pressure. Then come home to you and work out and shower, and then maybe play with you a little too. You could always make me feel loved, and when you were licking out the last of whatever my lovers had left in my pussy, it was as if you were enjoying them with me. I'll miss that. I owe you so much!" "But oh, Amy, I do love attracting and controlling different men! Tricia the temptress, using dramatic make-up to seduce all kinds of men, to bring them groveling to my feet. Some quite literally! You were so helpful, darling, when I wanted to seduce certain clients. It was your make-up that did it as often as not. Now you can do it for your own benefit!" She looked up at me. "Not that I needed to seduce men. There's no shortage of horny partners in my firm, or of Associates eager to please me, looking for an inside track." She smiled at her little pun. I was depressed and furious, but tried to remember how Amy would listen to these revelations. Probably her curiosity would be tickled. Amy was an innocent. "Was Greg one of your lovers, honey?," I asked. "Not a lover, Amy. I used him for quick sex, once. He has a continental touch. You know, hand-kissing, and ass-kissing too if you've wondered about him that way. But he can be such a fool. He told me last night that you found his note in that make-up kit, one of those free things Helena Rubenstein or someone hands out now and then. He gave it to me as a thank you gesture after I tried out his cock and found that it lacked sincerity. He's such a gentleman! I never bothered to open it, so I never saw the note. But after he told that stupid story about secretarial gifts and so on, I had to stick with it. At least it was credible." Again she sighed. "I was going to tell you these things later today, Amy, part of a pep talk to encourage you to do the same thing. Forget your so-called obligations, live completely as Amy, use this chance to discover and enjoy your most profound emotional depths as a woman. With women and with men both. To think that Greg almost blew it last night! What an asshole! I'm now doubly glad I reamed him with a huge dildo that one time I was with him, when I was annoyed that he didn't seem to know the proper uses of a cock and a pussy! I remember he couldn't walk for a week!" She smiled, then looked concerned. "Amy, I haven't been fair to you. It was only this past week, while you were away at your meeting and I was in bed with a different man every night, that I realized you should be sharing some of the fun I was having. I talked it over with Carol. She doubted that Andy would be willing to swing with me -- he's such a conventional prig. So she suggested that I set Amy free. And now I have. You're a woman now, Amy. Enjoy other women if you will, but at least one man. Force yourself, if you must! I want you to, so I'll feel a little less guilty about my own escapades. See what happens! Men can be so wonderful! So many different kinds of cocks, and there are so many different ways a girl can enjoy them!" I'd been so happy earlier! Now the pit of my stomach was churning! Trish put her purse in her lap, ready to get out of the car. "Time to do our paperwork now, Amy. These need filing. And you'll need a driver's license and a bank account in your own name before we can talk to the real estate agent. Just follow my lead and sign your name when and where I tell you. Remember which name, honey!" I hesitated a moment longer. Then, as I'd done before leaving anywhere or proceeding anywhere all through the previous week, I took a mirror out of my purse and began to touch up my hairdo and my make-up. My hair *was* a pretty color, no longer dark but a rich brown with golden highlights. I pulled down a ringlet in front of each ear. I'm still young, I was thinking. Attractive. Even pretty. "Trish," I said. "Yes, honey," she replied. She was attentive, yet as always in delicate situations, relaxed, matter-of-fact. "All those evenings when I made you up to look beautiful and presentable before you went out to meet clients? Taught you how to look responsible and yet feminine, even provocative? Remember that stretch of time when you joked about how looking provocative had provoked lots of new business?" "Yes?" She was waiting for my question. "You weren't really joking then, were you." "No, honey. I brought in a lot of new business then. And you helped me. You were essential. I'd been careless with my looks, and I'd let myself seem much too distant. Who but you could have told me that a wide-eyed little girl look brings out a protective instinct in men and turns their brains to mush? And who but you could have shown me how to look like a wide-eyed little girl with only a few dabs of eye shadow?" "Were all of them clients? The men you went out to meet all those evenings after I made up your face?" "Most of them. Most of them were also clients. But honey, if you're asking whether you were primping me for the men who were making Andy a cuckold, the answer is yes. Yes, Andy was setting himself up! Over and over! He might just as well have been jerking them off and sucking their cocks to make them nice and hard and horny for me, because when he finished with me and they saw me, that's what they were. It's ironic. Andy was my live-in girlfriend in dresses while I was out fucking anything in pants. Including women. Remember, night before last, when you were still wearing your bra and pantyhose, that didn't stop either of us, did it? You yourself taught me that there are certain advantages to the ways women make love! I'm going to miss mussing your hair with my thighs." "All those times you called me your sweet cumsucker. It wasn't all your cum, was it?" She looked at me for a moment, then smiled confidentially, wickedly. "Amy, not all. Not even mostly. Some. But your friend Andy is such a dear! He loved eating my men! That's how I know you'll love the real thing when it's squirting directly into your mouth, your lips wrapped around the source!" "You brought men home when I happened to be out of town? Some you fucked in our own bedroom, in our bed? You wore those crotchless panties on dates with them?" "Honey, you never 'happened' to be out of town. You deliberately left town to cavort like a pansy girl with other faggots, or at least that's what I thought at first. Then later I realized that you left town simply to enjoy being what you are, a woman. That was OK too, but by then I'd found other compensating pleasures. Yes. I brought many men home. And a few women. Those lacy underpants with the split crotch you found in our bed and thought at first might be yours? I still don't know whose they were, mine, yours, or some other woman's. Maybe even some male bed partner I'd humiliated into them -- there are way more of your kind of person than you'd think, and as I think you now know, I've gotten pretty good at having my way with them! I've fucked many men in the ass through split crotches." Now she began to sound quite sincere, woman to woman. "Some real men have taught me the pleasures of a stiff dick sliding in my ass," she said. "And I've wanted to give others the same pleasure. I've even turned a few real men into real sissies, starting out by lending them some of your lingerie, then teaching them how to buy their own, then getting them to spread for me while I fuck them. It's such fun, when I run into them afterward at business meetings and can tell from the way their faces turn red that they're still wearing pretty panties and who knows what else, and know that I know! Be sure to feminize some lover as soon as you can, Amy! Nothing else gives a girl quite the same rush!" I was silent. If I'd been betrayed, I'd certainly also been self-betrayed. One more question. "Trish, this whole plan of yours. Suggesting that I live unencumbered as Amy. That I try to enjoy being only Amy for a while. Is this for my sake? Out of love, to encourage me to fulfill myself? Or is it for your sake? A power trip? Or to get me out of the way so you can bed down more men, since I've been such a disappointment to you. She thought seriously for a moment. "I always have my reasons," she said by way of prologue, still framing her answer.. Then she spoke slowly. "You aren't a disappointment to me, Amy. My pretty Amy! Not at all. Andy was at first. I've come a long way since I first found that I was married to a transgendered man, not to a whole man. But Amy, you're now living as fully as you can according to your desires. I love you especially for that. More than love, I admire you. I hope whatever else happens that we can become the dearest of friends. On the other hand Andy is still a disappointment to me. I'll admit it. Because he spent so much time and energy compromising his desires, trying to keep them hidden. He's a kind of oppressor of women, in a way, did you ever think of it that way? Of you. All the time he was trying to let you out, he was trying to hide you. I've let you out! And frankly, now that you're out do you think for a moment it's likely you'll ever want to go back in?" "But that doesn't fully answer your question, does it. Maybe your experience as a woman will answer it for you. Live as Amy for a few months, and then we'll talk again. Maybe by then you'll know how women deal with such questions. We women aren't at all like men! And incidentally, Amy, you were never in the way! You always gave me a kiss and a squeeze of the hand and your heartiest best wishes every time I left the house to meet a man I meant to wrap my legs around! I've always meant to thank you for that." And she moved closer to me and took my face in both her hands. "Thank you, Amy darling," she said. "I hope you'll cherish as many cocks in your pussy as I have in mine. That's my real gift to you. I'm sure you feel that's a little perverse, and I'm sure you feel shy. Maybe even maidenly. That's why I've made arrangements you'll find out about later on. You'll see!" And her soft lips kissed me so with such impassioned force that we both had to fix our smeared lipsticks afterward. She smiled conspiratorially at me, and I smiled back, I wasn't sure why. v. An hour later we emerged from the County Court House and the Madison Trust Bank and the Department of Motor Vehicles and I was officially registered as Amy. Andy was formally certified a clerical error ever since birth. I was now a woman with a woman's photo-ID and a checkbook with flowers printed pale on the paper. And a sizable bank account, because Tricia bought out my share of our house so it could be all hers and the condo apartment could be all mine. "Give it up, baby!" she'd said when I balked at selling her my half of the house. "You can't go home again. You can only visit. You were overjoyed when I proposed this scheme two days ago. Your life there is over. Here is where you live. You'll have your own proper place by the end of today." She then picked up the estate agent, a woman dressed in a pink "Queen Realty" jacket and a short business skirt like mine, but with long, dangling ear rings. Her name was Bess, she explained heartily, Good Queen Bess! She knew I'd just love the apartment. I smiled. Trish introduced me as Amy, her onetime sister-in-law, explaining that our friendship as women had outlasted her marriage. As was indeed the case, I guess. And we proceeded to the apartment. I was impressed, as the car pulled into an "Owners Only" slot. It was a tall, solid, respectable-looking building in one of the more established neighborhoods, six stories high, with a well-lit lobby and a polite and attentive uniformed doorman, one of four on the staff we were told. The estate agent never stopped talking. "A single woman can feel perfectly secure here, whether in the neighborhood or in the building itself. Most of our tenants are professionals, mostly couples or singles like yourself, and the Owner's association is active and lively. They schedule many kinds of tournaments and activities, no problem meeting others socially. There are two party rooms or hospitality rooms on the bottom floor, and they're often in use. You'll find an Olympic sized swimming pool on the back patio, where the afternoon sun catches the building's brick walls and keeps things warm. And of course there are saunas and showers and hot tubs and exercise rooms nearby." She gestured in their direction and then led on when she saw we didn't mean to pause to look at them. "As you see, the elevator shafts are in different quadrants of the building, so there are only two condo apartments off each floor and hallway. Your condo is on the top floor, the sixth, which is the brightest, airiest, and most free of traffic noises. I believe your hallway partner is a woman much like yourself, an unmarried professional, a doctor of some sort with one of the local HMOs I'm told. You may find you have much in common." The condo apartment itself was a spacious gem, serene and tastefully furnished. High ceilings, a turquoise carpet, decor clean and modern, no hint anywhere of that ugly gray and rose someone somewhere had decreed was art deco and inflicted everywhere. Breuer chairs and couches, a fully equipped wet bar, a large master bedroom and a smaller airy second bedroom that would become my study. A real study this time, because here I needed no feminine enclave. Clearly a woman had lived here before -- the wallpaper had small delicate patterns filigreeing it, and the drapes seemed dainty even though massive. It was altogether charming. A delight. Almost immediately it felt perfect! "Oh, I'm so happy for you, Amy!" Tricia whispered to me, both of us enchanted by the feel of the place. "It's just lovely!" I had to agree. Queen Bess produced some ownership papers and I signed them after Trish looked them over, then signed a check to secure the purchase agreement. And thus the apartment was mine. We called down to the doorman and arranged for him to empty and park my car -- it was now Amy's car -- and to bring my things up carefully. The estate lady went to the fridge behind the bar and pulled out a bottle of Champagne and three glasses. "I was sure you'd want it, especially at such a ridiculous asking price," she said cheerfully. "Congratulations! I wish you much happiness here!" We all three sipped the bubbly white wine to honor her wishes. Then Tricia spoke, holding up her glass, relieved that this matter was now settled. Settled as easily as her marriage to me, I realized. I resented it. Unfairly? She'd shed me without the bother of a divorce simply by getting a judge to redefine my sex to match my supposed gender. After all those multiple infidelities, it turned out we were two women, therefore never married, and therefore she'd never really been unfaithful to me after all. All the time I'd thought we were married and faithful to each other, she'd been a lively single woman living with her girlfriend Amy and dating different men and playing the field, as was her right and due. Spotless. All this achieved in a single deft stroke I'd never seen coming and never felt. "My darling sister-in-law! My dear friend! Amy sweetheart! We've been so close for so long now, and we've shared so much, that all I can say is, I hope we'll always feel as close to each other as we are now. That we'll always be dear friends. We'll see each other often I'm sure but I need to say this now. Have a wonderful life! Take advantage of everything life offers. You're now free to explore a whole new neighborhood, a whole new city, a whole new world, all kinds of new people. No need ever to feel enclosed or hidden away, not ever. Enjoy your freedom! I love you! You're from a part of my life I don't want ever to forget!" There were real tears in her eyes as she raised her glass. And in mine, though I knew that the revelations of earlier today were going to twist inside me for weeks until I managed to settle in my own mind how I felt about them. I had no confidence that Trish meant well now or had meant well for some time now. She'd ditched me. Yet everything she'd done for me seemed to be with the most generous of intentions. I tried to say something in response, but my throat choked up, and in the end I had to set my glass down and rush over to her and hug her. Passionately. Sobbing the whole time. For the last time, perhaps, I thought. My wife! My life! My former wife! The woman I'd loved! Goodbye to all these! She hadn't expected quite this kind ofdisplay, and just held me, rather overwhelmed. When I recovered myself I just said to Queen Bess, "I'm sorry. I was saying goodbye. I owe all of this to Trish. To Tricia. Please forgive me!" The Queen Realtor nodded -- I did seem a bit excessive but she'd seen almost everything before. It was my turn to say something. I picked up my glass again. "To true friends, and to knowing who they are!" Trish looked at me for a moment, then lifted her glass, smiled, and drank. "Well! A party? Can I watch?" A female voice, mellow and bemused, and also sprightly, coming from the open door! I looked up. There leaning against the door post was a woman of about Trish's age. Tall, thin, with a long neck and short black hair swirling over her ears. A delicate face with a small nose, a large mouth, and an air of effortless authority. She wore a bright yellow satin team jacket of some sort, open over a demure white blouse, and a full gray skirt fell from her waist nearly to her ankles. And "sensible" white shoes with chunky heels. When she saw she had our attention, she came forward, walking directly toward me. I saw her jacket was imprinted "Madison HMO, Field Hockey Champions, 1996." "I'm Tracy," she said, holding out her hand. "You must be Amy. I'm so pleased to meet you!" I took her hand and started to shake it as men do, but she meant for me only to hold it. I'm not sure why, but still holding it I placed my other palm against her shoulder and leaned in lightly to touch both her cheeks with mine. As if we were old friends. She seemed to invite it. It was as if we each felt an instant affinity, even intimacy. "The doorman told me a likely new owner named Amy would be up here. You look likely. That champagne bottle tells me that you're my new neighbor just across the hall. I won't disturb you now. But do look in later when you get a chance, and we'll have a good long talk and get to know each other. Promise?" I promised. She nodded at Trish and grinned at the Queen Realtor and disappeared into her doorway, across the hall just opposite mine, on the other side of the elevator door. A random thought crossed my mind -- it's so easy to get to meet women if you're a woman. Maybe Trish hadn't been altogether cruel, setting me free to explore my femininity in a new setting with new people. "Well honey," Tricia said. "I think we've accomplished everything we intended. Do call to let me know how you've settled in." end 4/10 (c) 1999 by Vickie Tern (VickieTern@AOL.COM, all comments welcomed)  VickieTern@AOL.COM -- If you enjoyed this work, take a moment to email the author. Your comments are their only payment. 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