Message-ID: <29936asstr$987797403@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: From: vickietern@aol.com (VickieTern) X-Original-Message-ID: <20010420002438.13820.00000240@ng-cj1.aol.com> Subject: {ASSM} Tiny Tim by Vickie Tern 9/9 TG Femdom F/m M/M wife Date: Fri, 20 Apr 2001 16:10:03 -0400 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: RuiJorge, gill-bates New TG: Tiny Tim by Vickie Tern, 9/9 femdom, F/m, M/M, wife ix. Which is how I woke the next morning, right on schedule. Tim woke, that is, in a way. Tim who was now Teena. It was disorienting at first. One eyelid was glued shut with dried secretions. More of it had dried on my cheeks and chin, and those somehow felt as smooth as a baby's bottom! I also found that I was tangled inextricably in Becky's lace and satin nightgown, and when I carefully separated myself from her I found that I was the one wearing it, and that somehow it fit, it felt just right. Even around the breasts. Surprised, I touched my breasts and was shocked to find there were breasts there! Still! And even more shocked on touching a nipple to feel a deep craving, an erotic need, a yearning to feel them caressed slowly, lovingly. To know that they're desired. My asshole felt almost painful, it was so sore. And then memory returned. Slowly, I started to recall yesterday. Everything. My awakening at the House of Masks of course, but also Angela, those pills, the hours spent making me look and feel feminine, Moira's assurances, my make-up lessons. My altered body, how pleased I felt about it. How proud I'd become the woman I was. Then Becky's calm bubble-bath confessions to her girlfriend and lover, telling me about her sexual needs and her husband's inadequacies, how unfit he was to meet them, how other men had met them instead, and sometimes other women. How happy she was that we were now women together. I remembered how on our double date I watched my wife impaled repeatedly on Frank's prick, and only felt delighted. Why only delight? Because at the same time I was being impaled by another even more glorious prick! Kevin's. Yes, Kevin. That tower of his. My sore rear end. How I loved getting fucked hour after hour! No regrets! I considered my beautiful, clever wife, lying asleep beside me, her face peaceful and innocent, her body coiled yet at ease, relaxed. The great lengths she'd gone. Her elaborate scheme to preserve our marriage by turning her sexually inadequate Tim into her companionable lover Teena, and her conniving at the same time to rid both of us of her co-conspirators and my rivals. I felt admiration and awe as I gazed down on her still-sleeping face, for the dexterity and skill with which she'd brought me into a different life, one far more compatible with her own. What did I feel? I'd learned that she'd been unfaithful to me, and I'd felt devastated, but she'd slowly brought me to orgasm while telling me, so my distress had culminated as ecstasy. To know that she was sexually satisfied by someone else now brought me enormous joy. My entire life with her was invalidated. It had been a delusion -- she was not and we were not what I'd thought. My identity as her husband had been abused, yes, but then it had faded away, replaced by a woman who could never ever be betrayed by a wife, someone who could enjoy and even share in whatever "betrayals" seemed desireable. I was Tim, but I was Teena, and all I had to do was remain what I was. I preferred being Teena. To assure that would be my preference, Becky had arranged for me to become so experienced in the ways of women's sex that I'd understand and forgive her appetites, as I had, and want more such sex for myself, as I did. This was sufficient for me to want to remain Teena, but the main reason remained, to stay with her. As I looked down at my darling I felt such gratitude that she had gone to such lengths to preserve our lives together! Such admiration! Such tender love. She opened her eyes, looked earnestly into my face for a moment, and then closed them again. When she opened them and looked at me a second time I saw that they were wet. "Oh sweetheart," she said in a small voice. "It worked exactly as I planned it." "Yes," I replied. "I was so afraid. That I'd misjudged something. That you wouldn't care enough!" "I care enough," I said. "That you'd wake up Tim and resent everything I'd arranged!" "No, I'm Teena. I'd never want to be Tim now." "Why not, lover?" Becky was beginning again to sound like a cat playing with a mouse. Yet she was also testing her own doubts I knew, feeling for her own reassurance. "You know perfectly well why not, Becky," I said gently, a little amused that she hadn't quit even yet. "You arranged it. Because of those 'ineradicable memories' you wanted me to have when I woke up. Because of what Tim remembers he's been and will be forever, and what Teena remembers." "Oh?" Becky was now looking at me with wide open, innocent eyes. When she asked the next question she wriggled in anticipation of my answer. "Oh? What's that I wonder?" I decided to be blunt, to end her teasing. "Tim remembers that he's a pathetic dickless dork whose wife cheated on him and then made him a girl who agreed to cocksuck and get buttfucked by his worst rival. A disgrace! Teena is a beautiful, capable, and loving woman with a joyous sex life who absolutely adores her former wife." "Not former, honey, not former," Becky said, her eyes still teary. "Are you all right about it? About everything?" "Yes. Yes, Becky, I'm fine. Never better." I looked straight at her as I said it. She smiled, relieved, and held out her arms. We hugged for the longest time, two women lying side by side in bed pressing their bodies together, holding each other. Now and then kissing each other's faces. "You're so sweet," she whispered. "My newborn wife. My precious baby girl." And we hugged some more. After a while we just sat up and leaned back on the bed's bolsters, feeling serene, rested, contemplative. "Well, Teena," she said with a wry smile. "I guess that was a night to remember! Who'd have dreamed you'd be such a slut! How many times did you force that poor man to make love to you?" "Not often enough," I replied. "Each time still felt like the first." "There'll be lots of other firsts," she said with great satisfaction . "It's fun and it isn't fattening. Maybe tonight again? Maybe trade partners, you take Frank and I'll take Kevin?" "Maybe,"I said. Frank is cute, I was thinking. "And if they're really good boys we really will let them do each other. That'd be fun to watch!" "How could you get them to do that?" I asked. "Never you mind," Becky said, even more pleased with herself. "No problem. But how do you feel this second morning of the rest of your life, honey? Or is it the third?" "Sore. My butt hurts. I can barely sit. "Well, there's no surprise! For a while your butt was accepting takeoffs and landings as often as any major airport!" "Becky, don't tease. I'm also very, very happy!" I paused. Yes. From now on there would be absolute openness, absolute honesty between us. Nothing hidden. I had to ask. "Did you know that Kevin will be leaving town in another month? Taking a better job in San Francisco? More suitable for him? "Yes, of course, baby. We all want him to leave town now. He knows too much about too many of us. His cock may be a National Treasure, but so are our reputations." "Then why did you tell me you were planning to cut him down to size? To break his spirit?" "So you'd feel more comfortable with him, less hung up about vengeance, or his superior masculinity. To cut him down to size in your own mind. So you'd feel that you had the upper hand. To put you on top. It worked, didn't it? I saw you straddling him!" "Yes." I paused. "And all those pictures you took? What were they for really?" "They were insurance," she replied. "Because both you and Kevin would know I had them. But you're such a dear that all they are now is souvenirs." "I guess," I said. No harm asking her about that other deception. "Becky, Kevin told me that the House of Masks business, what you did with me there, that was all a charade, making me feel guilty, and entirely your idea. He was just following orders." Becky shrugged. 'And you performed for me right on cue. How do you feel about it now?" "Grateful," I replied. It was true. Becky said nothing. As Kevin or Marshall would have said, what works, works. "I feel so grateful that I feel like crying!" It was true. My heart swelled toward her, and my eyes began to get wet. I let out a sob! A very strange feeling! "What's happening to me?" She merely looked at me with enormous contentment. "I think l'm also a little nauseous, Becky," I added. It was true. A faint queasiness had been sneaking up on me while we spoke. I assumed it was all that rich, high-protein cum I'd swallowed. That my stomach just wasn't used to it yet. That amused Becky. "Why baby," she said. "Already? You can't guess what that is? Maybe morning sickness? Kevin's an animal, no question of that, and you've got pools and pools of his sperm wriggling inside you right now, enough to make many babies, no question of that either! So that's what it must be! But how could he have gotten you pregnant so soon? Were you ovulating?" "No, Becky," I replied. "I'm certainly carrying his seed right now, but I don't think I'm bearing his baby." "Why not? Is it someone else's baby? You didn't use protection, remember, Teena!" "Becky, I don't know why I feel this way. I just hope it's all for the best!" Becky leaned toward me and kissed me. And took my face in both her hands. "Oh, sweetheart," she said. "It's all right. All for the best. Everything's perfect. Your body's adjusting to all those unfamiliar hormones Angela planted in you, that's all. It's preparing you to bring a new life into the world. You. The nausea will pass in a week or so when your body settles into its new regime, and your face softens, and your curves begin to grow curvier. Other new feelings'll last longer. Some of them a lifetime. My love of this new you will last a lifetime." Conversation ceased. We were both content. I lay there trying to visualize my life from then on. Certainly very different. It suddenly occurred to me, among many things I need to go shopping, I have a lifetime to think about, and except for that dress Becky bought me I haven't a thing to wear! It then occurred to me, how delicious it was to think that thought! How very feminine! "You know, baby," Becky said. "When we're ready for it, I want to become pregnant too, to feel the way your body feels right now." Pregnant. My wife. Several thoughts tumbled over themselves. I didn't know how to ask the next question, but I did, slowly. "Will I be the father, do you think, Becky?" Her answer was unexpected. Direct and abrupt. "Why should you care? You're no longer a man!" She watched to see how I'd react. I was surprised to find that after the shock of hearing it, I couldn't say she was wrong. I swallowed. "No," I said, just a bit sadly. "That's true!" "You're a woman, Teena," Becky insisted. "Say it!" "I'm a woman," I replied simply. As I said it, I believed it. I had to. Where I still wasn't, I soon would be. "You'll soon be so well fucked that it won't ever matter to you again who fucks me. Isn't that already true?" It was. I nodded. "Well then! It's always possible you'll be the father, of course, if you still have your own sperm, and it mixes in with everyone else's, whoever our lovers are at the time. But probably you won't be producing live sperm any more at all by then. Maybe by then you'll have a pussy like mine down there, and no sperm of your own, only other people's!" I had to nod. "So no, the chances are you won't be the father, honey. But you'll certainly be the mother! I'll make sure that whatever semen impregnates me inseminates you too, in your tummy or your bowels, so you'll feel you're fully participating. And when my milk comes in to nourish the dear little thing, I'll see that yours does too, so we'll both be able to share in the feeding and nurturing of our baby. That's what breasts are for, honey! To please yourself and please men and please babies." I nodded yet again. "But right now, to please me!" Becky placed her lips around the enlarged tip of one of my breasts and tongued my nipple. It swelled up and hardened, enough to reach deep into her throat, or so it seemed. And gently Becky began to suck on me. I felt so cherished. A rich feeling of well-being suffused me, then overwhelmed me. I held Becky to me tightly. This was heaven! Heaven! Becky paused and looked up at me mischievously. "It didn't even take a week, Teena, did it?" she said. "No," I said. When the week's over I'll take her to a lovely place and propose to her again, I was thinking. And then return her wedding band to her finger. A place where two intimate girlfriends can find lots of guys who appreciate week-end romances with women who wear wedding bands, brief affairs with no complications. Becky and are married for life now with no complications. I could feel it. I felt something else, too. Her hand reached along my groin and found my member, and squeezed it gently. It was like being hugged by one hand. "'Tiny Tim' isn't a problem any more, is she, Teena?" she asked. "Now that the little thing's mine?" For once I could answer one of Becky's questions directly and unambiguously, wordlessly. I rolled over and kissed her. And we began to make love again. She sucked on my other nipple, and I was blissful! Then we rolled over each other and made passionate, ardent, romantic, lecherous, impetuous, sensuous, sultry love with our mouths and hands on each other everywhere we could reach. And though it was once as eager as any other part of me, this time my little clit didn't get rigid even once. And it didn't matter. Tiny Tim a problem? Not any more. END (c) 2001 by Vickie Tern. May be freely copied to freely accessible archives (but please let me know, VickieTern@aol.com) 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. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+