Message-ID: <22426asstr$948672602@assm.asstr-mirror.org> From: vickietern@aol.com (VickieTern) X-Original-Message-ID: <20000123112806.14553.00000276@nso-fh.aol.com> Subject: {ASSM} Threesome Part 9/13, by Vickie Tern. M/f, F/m, F/F, femdom, etc. Date: Sun, 23 Jan 2000 19:10:02 -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: kelly, newsman, Vulpine {ASSM} Threesome Part 9/13, by Vickie Tern. M/f, F/m, F/F, femdom, etc. The sex scenes in this story are raw, cooked, scrambled, and coddled. No violence or force, but that doesn't necessarily mean the characters are always nice to each other. This is a fiction. Any resemblance to actual people living or dead is purely coincidental. It may not remain that way of course -- life sometimes imitates art. If you aren't old enough to read this lawfully, wait. If it's worth reading it'll still be around. If not, no great loss. Of course I hope it will still be worth reading, and will appreciate anyone letting me know what they think: VickieTern@aol.com. (c) 2000 by Vickie Tern. May be copied to any free archive. Threesome 9/13 by Vickie Tern One morning I was running a little late, so I hurried down to the lounge where my Sex Therapy sessions took place, and was surprised to find only Elaine sitting there waiting for me. No men. "Couldn't they wait?" I asked, checking my watch. I was only five minutes late! Guys! A quick glance in the mirror -- my hair was perfect now! "Isn't that a pretty blouse, Miss Elaine! I haven't seen it before! That lacework at the collar is so delicate!" She dimpled and beamed. "Yes, isn't it? I thought the collar might be a little much, but the saleswoman assured me it wasn't. I love these new pastel shades. But I must say, that skirt is so becoming on you, Joy! That's a new style for you, isn't it? Long and narrow? It gives your figure a positively willowy look! You've look as if you've lost at least ten pounds these past weeks, haven't you?" It was my turn to beam. I postured, thrusting out one hip and tossing my hands, pleased, and then sat down next to her on the overstuffed couch gracefully, knees together, as the skirt required. "I have lost weight! Twelve pounds, so far. It'll be fifteen by the end of the week. Thank you, I just love this skirt too! When I get home I'm going to throw out all of my shorter skirts and dresses, and keep only the minis or the long ones like this!" Elaine heard this with an ingratiating smile and said nothing. She knew I had no women's clothes at home at all, only the men's clothes she'd packed up and given away. But she also knew that my deep-conditioning enriched me with virtual memories of an earlier life as a woman, sometimes even the realization that I was born female and had never been anything else. New memories flooded back to me every day! "You've always worn your hair clipped up high in back, ever since you were a girl in the tenth grade, when you were delighted to see that it had finally grown long enough," I told myself one day while putting it up. "Maybe it's time for braids or a ponytail?" But mostly I wore it down. It greatly improved my cocksucking techniques and my seductive flirtatiousness with my studs, for example, when I could recall shaking my long hair on my first boy friend's hard on - I was so shy with him -- and when I was reminded that I'd spent four full high school years dating guys every weekend, doing and looking whatever was required to remain popular with them. I was such a silly twit! I cherished the memory of a heavenly, utterly romantic defloration one Spring night by a gorgeous man. I was wearing my favorite chiffon dress, the one with with large pale flowers and a full skirt. My hair was still long then, and worn loose, bound with a single satin ribbon. Those guys! A whole football team! I dated three of them for a while, afterward. Flora said I was confusing the memory of a beautiful loss of virginity with a gang-rape conditioning tape Miss Caroline had played me my first day. But I indignantly refused to believe her. I was sorry when that memory faded after a few days, as all my memories did eventually after achieving their intended results. I now moved through all sorts of real difficulties with flair and confidence. That's where I'd arrived when I encountered Elaine alone, really alone this time, sitting and waiting. I was feeling poised and self-assured. "There aren't any men scheduled for us today," she said. "I want to spend the whole time alone with you this morning, honey. It's been three days since we've seen each other. I've been waiting for you to heal." "Oh?" I didn't understand what she'd said. But that often happened. "Let me see them, sweetheart!" "See what, Miss Elaine? I didn't bring anything with me this morning." "Your breasts. Unbutton that blouse and take off your brassiere!" I blushed. "They're only breasts," I said. "The same kind any girl has. A little bigger in my case, because...." I stopped. I wasn't sure what I meant to say. I could feel them, swelling and soft, and my hand brushing on my suddenly engorged nipples as I unbuttoned my blouse and reached behind to unhook my brassiere felt sooo very delicious. It gave me twinges in my clit, and I began to feel amorous. Toward Elaine! She'd never seen them. In all the years we'd been married, I'd never shown her! I had to make up for it! "Here, sweetheart, would you like to suckle me?" Now they were out, and exposed, and I could see them, they looked huge. Heavy! When did I get these? My adolescence? I couldn't remember! I lifted one up toward Elaine's mouth as she settled contentedly against me, her mouth and tongue working my nipple, first one, then after ten minutes or so, the other. It felt wonderful. My darling! I cradled my Elaine as her mouth pulled on me. I wished I had milk for her. I told her that. "We'll decide that later, sweetheart. When you've finished growing these, a few extra hormones like prolactin will bring in your milk. I'm glad you like them! I love mine!" She kissed and suckled one nipple while caressing the other. It felt so very feminine! I didn't want her to stop ever. It was like having two extra cocks, both sucked and stroked together! Heavenly! I suddenly remembered! When was it Flora sat my bedside when I awoke? "You want larger nipples, sweetheart?" she asked? Yes. Then I was awake. I'd looked down and sure enough, there they were! Beautiful! I was overjoyed! They were so fat, almost like teeny fingers. Huge? And pointy! I reached down and touched one nipple. Exquisite, I felt an electric shock all the way down to my clit and my pussy! Clit? What clit? I reached down between my legs. There was my prick, that familiar soft worm with deep feelings, and there were my testicles as always, though today they were feeling sore. "I just got these a few days ago, didn't I?" Elaine looked up from tonguing my nipples and appraised my expression. "That's right, honey. Do you mind?" I smiled down on her maternally. "Of course not, sweetheart. What kind of a woman would I be without breasts?" And for the next hour she nursed on them, my baby, and I felt just wonderful! I smiled down on her, and tenderly kissed the top of her head. Elaine was so wonderful! She was my dearest girlfriend, and had been ever since fifth grade! We'd been together through so many pyjama parties, and shared so many secrets, and crushes, and broken hearts. We'd gone shopping together when our mothers bought us our first formal gowns, and the last Saturday night of the summer we were both 15 we agreed we'd each suck off our dates. Then giggling, we told each other all about it afterward. It was so funny, and so silly! Elaine's date didn't want her to do it, he was embarrassed because it curved, but she'd insisted! Together we'd daydreamed what it would be like to nurse our own babies at our breasts when we grew them. And how we'd flaunt them in low-cut gowns when we wanted to bring men to our feet. Once when we were just out of college and working as secretaries we picked up two hunky guys in a bar just for the fun of it, and took them back to the apartment we shared together. Then for two days we worked them over and used them up, not one more drop of juice or desire to be squeezed out of them. When they couldn't even move we pretended we were mad and called them pussies and threw them out! I remember how funny it was, sending them back to their own girlfriends wearing our panties and reeking of our perfume! Would a date be willing to suck on my clit hoping that I'd then grant him entry into my pussy? That I'd give him something to fuck as well as suck? Why not? When I was only twelve a sweet boy named Ira begged me to let him to kiss my pussy, and finally I relented. It was nice. I'd wondered what else he'd do if I asked him. "Becky will be amazed," Elaine told me. "She certainly should see for herself how far you've come." Had I said anything aloud? Rebecca will tell me what? I lay there with my precious darling in my arms until Flora came in with her night-time shot, adjusted myy earphones, and turned out the light. I remember dancing backward in Steve's arms in a very smart red dress and high, high heels, insouciant, eyes sparkling, never more alive and vibrant than that moment, then sixty-nining him in his car in the parking lot from sheer exuberance. When we both came he begged me to let him fuck me in my pussy, not in my ass the way we usually did it. I smiled and told him, "Yes," so he did. When I woke up I pressed the buzzer to call Flora. But this time, instead of Flora Miss Rebecca came into the room! "Hello, sweetheart!" she said. "I haven't seen you for a while! Still faking that you want to be a woman?" She was mocking me, but the whole time she was smiling down on me affectionately! What was this? "What do you mean? I asked a little indignantly! "What are you talking about? I *am* a woman!" I was surprised to hear me say it. But it was so! "I know that, honey," she said reassuringly. "And now you do too. First you had to persuade yourself that it was a good thing, and I guess you did that by fucking and sucking all those men. How many?" "Lots," I replied smugly. "I've done it all my life! A girl who can't say no. I just can't help it. Elaine was right, men can be just wonderful!" "Well, you're certainly not much of a husband, watching your wife enjoy herself with all those men. She's been having such a good time, getting you used to that idea! What you two see in those hairy piles of muscle I'll never know, but you do, and I can't quarrel with that. As long as you like girls too." And she leaned over the bed and kissed me! And touched my clit and began to stroke it. It felt so good!! She kept it up all through her next revelation to me. "All those tapes you've been listening to in your sleep have helped too. I know, I helped Miss Caroline prepare them, and she really is a world expert in that kind of persuasion. And you've been listening to Miss Elaine's voice telling you all sorts of things ever since you took those enemas and we began those operative procedures. All last week while you were slept and your incisions were healing. Still, the hypno-conditioning was only part of it. You have a vagina now, don't you? Yes, I thought so, even though it's still anatomically displaced to your rear. We'll soon fix that. And this is your clit, right? Yes. No way an erectile penis any more, and a little long, but we'll fix that too in good time. And you now have lots of soft, affectionate feelings you're pleased to have, don't you, now that you're a woman. Because you're a woman, right?" I smiled at her. "It's so wonderful!" I replied. "I have more wonderful news for you! You know those testicles you were so anxious to protect? Your so-called balls? Well, they aen't altogether what they were! Essentially you aren't a man down there at all any more. Those nasty things pouring out sperm and testosterone and making you feel mean and edgy and hostile and competitive, your testicles? Remember them? They're all gone now! Instead you've got implants in your scrotum pouring estrogen, progestin, all sorts of goodies into your bloodstream. Now you can't help but become the woman you said you wanted to be, not unless you castrate yourself! Rounder hips and buns and softer lines in your face, and a smooth complexion, and bigger breasts, and a much nicer disposition. There's a tranquillizer in there too, to keep you content with all those changes as they occur." "As the implants dissolve they'll get smaller and disappear, and that's when we'll talk about using the empty pouch as labia for your neo-vagina. My dear, Joseph is gone! You'll never compete with me again for Elaine's love. You weren't much of a man, and now you're none at all. But you'll be such a good girlfriend for her when she wants a man! Guys come in pairs usually, you know. Go to sleep now, and dream about how nice that'll be! When you have a real pussy you can take on two men at once, the way Elaine does sometimes. You two together could double-date with four men if you wanted. Six, come to think of it. Now that would be real sharing, wouldn't it?" She sounded mocking, but it was hard to tell. She rubbed my clit some more, and I closed my eyes and arched my back and in a minute more I had an orgasm! That same clenching into glory and release into the sweetest calm! No spurting involved or necessary -- my clit stayed soft the whole time, with barely any emission! Heavenly! I was a woman! Why in the world should I have ever wanted to be anything else? I felt so grateful to Rebecca that I reached out to hug and thank her. But all I found was a man standing with his cock in my face waiting to feed me breakfast. I may have dreamed it, but one morning when I came into the lounge, Elaine wasn't there. Instead, there was Rebecca sitting there at her ease, arms and legs spread wide apart, stark naked, with Flora bent over her crotch and kissing and sucking and licking it. Respectfully, as if servicing a Queen. I watched them for a minute and felt my cheeks begin to flush. My clit twitched, and my pussy spasmed! It looked so good! "Do you want to kiss me, Joy?" Even naked, Rebecca spoke with imperial authority. She seemed so strong, so sure of herself! "Would you also like to pay your respects to my pussy?" "Yes, Miss Rebecca!" I said. "Oh, yes!" I longed to do just that! "Of course you would. That's what your tapes told you all last night. Well girl, come taste my pussy. It's yours!" Flora moved out of the way, and I knelt down respectfully between Rebecca's legs, and I buried my face in her! It was so good, being one woman tasting another! So very good! I just loved it! It felt so affectionate. So sweet! When I was a man with my head between her legs it was demeaning! But this was ... delightful. Nice. So very right! I closed my eyes! When I woke up, again Flora told me that Dr. Lander and Elaine had arrived and were waiting for me downstairs. They were conferring with Miss Caroline. There was now no question of selling me to one of the pimps who worked the seedier bars in town. My re-education was nearly complete. I had been a transparent fraud when I arrived, they all knew that, a scheming manipulator stalling for time, ready to do anything to recover my wife from her girlfriend. That I'd submit to anything was fortunate for me. If I'd resisted treatment I might well have ended up one more mind-damaged whore turning tricks, taking drugs to help persuade me I was really a woman who enjoyed men, but always nagged by doubt. But now I knew it, I really was a woman. I was sincere. I was now welcome to live as a guest in my own home, taking care of it for them. In fact, the last few days of my training would teach me stitchery and other such repairs, but also an entirely new skill, the pleasure a woman can derive from dominating men. So I could really enjoy my new job, not merely surveying various malls and mall managers but also persuading them to build larger facilities. I'd be well-qualified. I liked that. So my last few days at Miss Caroline's were spent learning how to keep her hired studs at the edge of orgasm, moaning for relief, and worrying them by touching my teeth to the edges of their cock-crowns. I was amused by how easily a girl can toy with a man's desires when she wants. Scott was something of a pretty boy. I made sure he knew it by making him wear lipstick and a bra and making him blow a huge weightlifter named Mark. A day later he told me he'd done it again on his own! The morning I dressed to leave Miss Caroline's with Miss Elaine, I felt so deliciously wicked I wore black satin panties, and so naughty that my scanty black bra could barely restrain my bobbing tits. Then I seduced Flora right there in my bedroom. A farewell gift to her! When I rose to slip into my dress, and she was still stretched out on my bed with her pussy sucked raw, I heard her breathe out that she'd never felt so good. "That's lovely, dear," I told her. "I enjoyed it too. Thank you for taking care of me all these weeks! I've loved every minute!" "You're most welcome, Joy honey. You've been a doll the whole time!" "Yes," I replied. "I found that out!" I'd become one. I'd already forgotten why I came here. And forgotten lots more too, even the moments I'd treasured only a few days ago. Miss Caroline told me those memories were only aids to rehabituation, that my whole time at her establishment would fade out of mind as a new sense of myself and my new life filled my days. "Let me remind you, Joy," she said gently. "You used to be a man. You were Elaine's husband for six years. But you agreed to become her girlfriend instead, so she'd be willing to keep living with you. So you could go out and pick up guys together, and then have fun telling each other all about it afterward, the way girlfriends do. Because her other girlfriend doesn't like to pick up guys. You do, now." I nodded. I wanted to be her girlfriend so we could live together. Be intimate together. Pick up guys and enjoy them together. It was important that I keep doing what she'd trained me to want to do, Miss Caroline went on, or I'd revert to old male habits and desires. But my girlfriend Elaine and her girlfriend Rebecca would keep me on the right path, she was sure. I'm glad I've retained even the few real memories I've just jotted down here. If any of them are real memories. Not that it matters. viii. On our way back home from Miss Caroline's, Miss Elaine and I went shopping. I was wearing the gray suit I'd worn to the office the day I first came out of the closet as my true self and confessed to everyone that I was a really a woman. I needed everything! I needed two of everything! As Miss Elaine explained to me, "Until she becomes a mother, every woman is really two women, or would like to be. The first is a capable professional woman, fashionable, maybe even elegant, poised and at ease and tastefully groomed, very much herself, graciously but firmly guiding others toward whatever she wants. Comfortable on all occasions." "I like that," I said. "It sounds like fun." It reminded me of my last few days at Miss Caroline's. The men who'd taught me the joys of being a woman had first seemed intimidating, but then they became desireable, then companionable. During the last few days I'd found they could be something else still -- servile. It was easier than I'd imagined, instructing them to do what I wanted instead of consenting to their wants. My last memories of Duncan and Scott were of both of them at my feet licking my toes, while Jeffrey -- a local college boy they'd brought in for apprentice training -- knelt in front of me and kissed and licked my clit to orgasm. That seemed about right, I decided. Even the lowest woman in the feminine pecking order ought to be able to order men to worship her. "Good," my wife said. "I'm glad. It is fun. Because that's what you'll be at the office and also when you're doing your inspections. It's all in what you think you are. Then in what you think they are whether they know it or not. The only way to keep men from taking advantage of you is by taking advantage of them first." My former Ellie seemed to know a lot more about these matters than I'd have guessed a month ago. A month ago, I realized, I didn't know her at all. "The second kind of woman every woman likes to imagine herself is a sexual being, glowing with desire, eager for it. The kind of woman we've both been most mornings during the past three weeks." She paused and glanced wickedly at me. "Some mornings. And I've been more sexual than you knew for a lot longer than that!" "Yes," I said with a conspiratorial grin, as if it hadn't been me she'd been deceiving for years. She smiled back appreciatively. It was a lovely moment of shared understanding. I loved it, that she'd felt free to pleasure herself with other men, that when I was her husband I never suspected! Neither of us needed to say a thing! She then spoke seriously, as if imparting an important secret. "Elegant or sluttish, Joy, a woman should remain in charge. Every woman you've met since all this began has shared that secret with you. Even if you're some man's sex kitten, if you know who you really are you'll know how to get what you want from him." We reached her favorite upscale shopping mall and parked. I concentrated on getting out of the car gracefully in my heels -- I'd been a man on his way to his hairdressers and then to his office when I'd last done that. Afraid to be recognized as a man while wearing Rebecca's business suit with its short skirt. Tense and distracted, ashamed but afraid to show it. Now I felt comfortably myself, neat, feminine, still young and pert, looking at the world as a basket of wonderful opportunities for...something. I had the mind and memories of a woman. Or at least some of the reflexes. I wondered if women's suits come with much shorter skirts. A thought suddenly occurred to me. "Miss Elaine," I began. "Just 'Elaine' when we're being two girls together, honey. 'Miss Elaine' is if we keep you as a housemaid and there are guests present." "All these different names," I merely observed. Women don't say outright what they think -- it sounds too forward. I'd learned that. But women hear each other. "It won't be much longer, sweetheart!" She'd said it as if absent-mindedly. I glanced at her. Did it mean she'd be leaving me despite everything? That was no longer a frightening thought, but it was certainly disappointing. I still loved her, and I was still looking forward to sharing our lives with other men. She however was looking just ahead at a Talbot's, her mind concentrating on something else. I decided to let it pass. I returned to my original thought. "Elaine, why is it that this gray suit just happened to be in Rebecca's car when we arrived that first day, and happened to fit me?" She just looked it over as we walked toward the store's open doorway. "It's a little large on you now, honey. You were a 14 when Becky and I bought it for you, down from 18, remember? Now you're a scant 12! You have a lovely waistline!" She smiled conspiratorially at me again. "All that cum certainly agrees with you! You look radiant. The way women look when they're pregnant!" "That's my estrogen level, Elaine. You remember? My new testicles?" She smiled, shrugging. I'd agreed to it. It was done. There was nothing to say. "I'm not complaining. I love it, my complexion, and the figure I'm developing. And ... everything else. But about this gray suit. It's cute and it's trendy, and some of the girls complimented me on it when I wore it to the office a few weeks ago. But how did Rebecca -- Miss Rebecca -- happen to have it in her car? In my size, not hers. She's a 12. The blouses I pressed and hung away for her the next day were all 12s." Elaine stopped walking for a moment. She turned and looked at me and said, slightly impatient, almost chiding me. "Joy, don't think for a moment that any of this just happened! Becky and I did what we decided and you did what you decided! And so far it's been working out fine!" "What do you mean?" "Later!" We had arrived at the first of many boutiques. All of the clothes we bought that day were ...authoritative. A clingy spandex and silk cocktail dress that draped across my bust as if I were a Grecian maenad, but in black, not white. A teeny, tight leather miniskirt with thigh-high spike-heeled boots to match, and a leather bustier to go with it, but in white, not black. "This is more suitable for more occasions than black, I think you'll find," the salesperson told us. "It's celebratory as well as errr...dominant. And" -- she smiled at the thought -- "innocent, too." "Do you have a whip in white leather to match?" I asked her with a perfectly straight face. "Joy!" Elaine said, as if shocked as well as amused. "Behave!" Several long street dresses with pencil thin skirts, some wide, pleated peasant skirts and several more minis, a skin-tight pair of designer jeans and some scoop-necked T-shirts ("for gardening, and for harvesting eyeballs when your tush becomes as luscious as your tits," Elaine explained). Several more business suits, a bit more hi-styled than the one Rebecca had somehow provided me, a bit risque even. "You can buy special occasion dresses yourself when you go mall crawling, and can see the sorts of men you'll be dealing with," Elaine commented when I stopped to admire one. "But only one really whorish outfit, only for that occasional special date with someone really funky. Any company whore I live with is going to look respectable!" And lingerie. Elaine insisted I buy only the most delicate, the prettiest and most wonderfully frilly, though I was shocked at the price. And shoes and a purse, and other accessories. We decided that would do for now. "Can we go home now?" I asked. "It's mid-afternoon, and I need to get off my feet. I haven't been home for three weeks, remember. Be it ever so humble." "All right," Elaine said. "We'll rest up, and then tonight we'll go out again together to celebrate the new you. Maybe we'll go trolling." "I'd like that," I said, half understanding what she meant. "Will Miss Rebecca join us?" "She's busy," Elaine replied. "I have something else in mind. There's something we need to do. The sooner the better." "Oh?" I asked. "Yes," was all she replied. I knew better than to press her. Even so, I was surprised, as I got out of my shower early that evening, powdered, primped and fragrant, and was taking down my new little black classic dress, when she told me "The white leather I think, honey. With the boots. I've laid it all out for you." "Not the black? This is slut night, not high style night?" end 9/13 VickieTern@AOL.COM -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: | | FAQ: Moderator: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Archive: Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository | |, an entity supported entirely by donations. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+