TG: Jack and Jill Ch 8 by Vickie Tern, femdom, wife, M/F, M/M 

Vickie Tern's stories are archived at 
http://library.gaycafe.com/nifty/transgender/
by_authors/Vickie_Tern

She appreciates any kinds of comment on any
of them,  and usually replies in kind.






If you shouldn't be reading this, don't!




Jack and Jill by Vickie Tern

8.  Chapter



Well, our honeymoon period was the happiest of my life.  Whatever Jill
may have done to me, she gave me those weeks, and I will always love
her for them.  Not that there weren't many other happy weeks that
followed, some deliriously happy.  But they weren't quite the same.
That first night after Marianne and Carl transformed me, and the next
morning, and during the weeks that followed, I thought Jill had
accepted me completely for what I was or had become, a man who played
out his feminine nature as a woman, who loved playing at being a woman.
And she had accepted it, in a way.  That was the key to our reawakened
passion in our marriage, our newfound love for each other.  What I
didn't realize in my delight with this new state of things, was that in
any relationship like the one we'd reached, Jill was still going to
determine and control things.

And Jill had decided for herself what kind of a woman I was, and what
was best for me.  She was determined to see that I got it whether I
wanted it or not.  She loved me as Jane the woman, and respected the
residual man who wanted to be more of a woman, but she had only
contempt for the man in me who still wanted to remain a man.  She
wanted no part of Jack.  So she decided to overwhelm Jack by
force-feeding fulfilment of my feminine desires, as she preferred to
think of them.  In fact, she remained as devious as ever, sharing
herself freely with Jane, and hiding from Jack anything that might
spook him.  Some things she hid from Jane too.

Her strategy required that she sweep me along on a wave of enthusiasm
she always seemed to believe I shared, playing eagerly with her new
girlfriend and wife, freely exploring with me her own previously
suppressed desires, exulting in any new signs that I was a woman in a
new way.  Or so it seemed.  She was delighted that her crossdressing
husband was no longer ashamed of himself, and had become her feminine
companion and lover.  I was in seventh heaven because I thought that
now I could play out whatever my gender fantasies either way at will.
But my seventh heaven was a fool's paradise -- things were already out
of my hands.

I didn't see it until later, but Jill was moving to eliminate my
masculinity altogether, as fast as she could.  She had in mind that I
do womanly things with and without her until they became habitual.
That included shopping, and trips to the beauty salon, and so forth.
But she had in mind much more.  I thought Carl had taught me all I
needed to learn about being a woman sexually.  But it seems my wife had
decided my body should be much more female.  That was what had so
delighted her when I returned from my love tryst with Carl, no longer
ashamed to be a transvestite, my mind apparently already gone all the
way toward becoming a female.  She knew that I really wanted to be a
woman, not just look and feel like one at times, transsexual, not
merely a transvestite, whatever I thought I wanted, and she knew that
transsexual women, once they are women, prefer sex with men, because
they are after all women, whatever they think they want (and in fact,
most continue to prefer women).  She knew what was best for me.  I
didn't.

So she never discussed these complicated matters with me, convinced
that Jack the wimp in me was alive and ready to balk at anything
unaccustomed.  She just did it, step by step.  And I went along.  I was
so thrilled to explore my newfound womanhood with her, and by her
apparent delight in every step I took, that I didn't even notice where
she was taking me.  When I finally did notice, there was no returning.
In fact it's only by an odd coincidence that I'm not a full scale
post-op transsexual woman right now, the way she was moving me along.
But we'll get to that.

As she had said, I was a busy girl that day.  A few days after we
remarried as woman and wife, I begun to go out dressed only as a woman,
by myself, or with Jill to restaurants, or to concerts where we
sometimes even encountered friends who regretted that Jack was out of
town so frequently.  Any outing became routine, and apart from making
sure I was dressed appropriately I gave going out no further thought.

But this particular day was not routine.  Breakfast was a single glass
of diet supplement and a cup of black coffee, and then I went back up
and teased my hair into little curls the way Marianne had showed me,
and dabbed on a bit of scent, and put on a touch of mascara and
lipstick, and clicked my purse shut, feeling very good, quite satisfied
with what I saw in the mirror.  Jill wasn't.  Not yet.

I realized that right away, when we walked into a downtown beauty salon
and were ushered directly into a private booth, where a young woman
inspected my face closely and then asked Jill if she should begin
immediately.  "Begin what?" I asked?  Jill nodded, and the woman told
me "This will feel like a series of pin pricks, dear, but it will make
things much easier for you later on.  Just think of each pin prick as a
hair you'll never have to shave again.  If we do this three times a
week, in six months your skin will be just lovely." I realized that she
was talking about electrolysis, and sure enough, for the next two hours
the hairs on my neck were electrocuted so they could never grow back.
I didn't want to break the spell brought on by our apparent mutuality
of mind, so I asked Jill very mildly, when I'd been stabbed and burnt
for about a half-hour, what I should do with a permanently smooth,
hairless face if I should want to dress like a man again.  She replied
without even looking up from her magazine, "Why, the same thing you're
doing now, dear, wear makeup to look whatever way you like."

I could think of no answer to that.  I later found an answer:  women
wearing makeup look like women, while men wearing makeup look like men
in makeup.  But by them my face was as smooth as any woman's, and like
any woman I was using face powder regularly to reduce the shine on my
cheeks and nose, reaching frequently for my compact whenever I was away
from the house, without even thinking about it.  By then nothing could
ever grow me a new beard or moustache -- the follicles simply weren't
there any more.

Next we stopped at a store off the main part of our largest mall,
tucked in a corner, in a former natural food store.  It was now an
up-scale Sex Shoppe.  Jill had several purchases clearly in mind, and
she picked them out unhesitatingly.  One was a double ended dildo with
a realistic, fat, veined, eight inch cock on each end, meant to be worn
by a woman and designed to give reciprocal pleasure.  Another was an
enormous single dildo, a monster rubber prick at least ten inches long,
maybe a foot, at least three inches thick, with huge balls at one end.
I thought it was a joke, and wondered aloud to Jill what the rest of
him must look like.  But she only flashed me a quick smile and returned
to scanning the shelves.  Next she took down a set of butt plugs, four
or five of them, each longer and thicker than the next with the biggest
one thicker than even the rubber prick.  Each, I noticed, was bulbous
in front and had a flange in back to keep it from slipping into the
large intestine and disappearing altogether.  Jill was quite pleased to
find these last items.  Then she located a peculiar device, made of
plastic tubing with what seemed to be a heavy rubber balloon at one
end; she explained it was an ultimate enema, one that closed off the
anus until there was no doubt the bowels were being cleared of all
unwanted substances.  "These are all to help you get ready darling,"
she said.  "For what?" I asked, still a bit worried especially by that
monster fake prick.  "Why for the men in your life," she said, beaming
reassuringly.

I thought she was joking, and replied that she was all the men I
wanted, and all the women too.  She looked pleased at the compliment,
and didn't reply.  But when we left the store she handed me the
smallest of the butt plugs and a tube of jelly.  "Here you are
darling," she said, "I know you'll want to get started right away.
I'll be in that corset shop ahead there.  You can leave your tampon in
place for now." And she was gone.

I barely remembered to enter the Ladies' Room, not the Gents, and then
I settled down in a stall to insert the device in what was plainly
going to be, for future reference, my pussy.  Despite her advice I took
out my tampon, greased everything carefully, and also my rear end, and
then pushed, but it wouldn't press in.  I pushed harder.  Nothing.  It
was much thicker than a tampon, and that's what I was accustomed to
poking into myself..  Here was a problem right at the outset, the
outset of what I had no idea.

I began to let my mind drift back to how Carl had done it.  I
remembered that lovely fuck, his hands lifting me up and letting me
back down gently, with my ass rising and falling over his prick
rhythmically over and over until magically, he was in me and I was
surrounding him, and I began pumping him.  I set up a similar rhythm
with the butt plug, and I must have eased off my sphincter muscle a
little because in a minute it slipped in and stopped at the flange.  I
stood up, gripping the plug with my anal muscle as if it were the
choicest cock in town, realized there was no way it could come out, and
relaxed.  I felt incredibly stretched and full, much more than with a
tampon.  It was very...satisfying, I realized.  Before I left the
ladies' room I paused to retouch my lipstick and powder my nose and
cheeks, and as I walked past various stores to rejoin Jill I realized I
was now a lady in another new sense too.  I could see in successive
reflections in store windows that with the butt plug up my rear I held
my torso very straight, leaning slightly forward.  Then, with each step
my hips and rear end undulated exaggeratedly from side to side, and
when I tried to restrain the motion my whole walk became provocatively
sinuous.  My wife watched my progress down the mall and into the next
store with a delighted grin.

"My dear, you are the sexiest thing in the mall," she said.  I made no
reply, but in fact felt rather pleased myself.  "Now," she said, "we're
here to buy you some better breast forms and a waist cincher, and I'm
here as your friend for you to consult while you do the purchasing.
Tell the saleslady something about a double mastectomy and let her do
the rest.  Remember to use your most feminine voice."

I approached the counter, glad that I'd just powdered my nose and
especially the reddened area where my beard had been electrocuted, and
for the first time I tried to speak like a woman to a strange woman.
"Uh, Miss, I think I need to see a mastectomy bra, um, a double
mastectomy." I sounded like a flute, but the saleswoman never wavered.
"Yes ma'am," she replied.  A half-hour later I had chosen a lovely full
bra with silicone forms shaping me from my breastbone to my armpits,
with a hint of a nipple visible even through my shirt, C-cups we had
decided.  They felt very different from the bra fillers I'd used
before, much heavier, and they jiggled a little of their own weight.  I
liked them.

I commented to Jill in a low voice that ever since I was fourteen with
my first bra, I'd disliked stuffing the cups, because a really good bra
could gather up my pectoral muscles and fatty tissue, and reshape them,
and thrust them forward so that my nipples became incredibly sensitive
at the tips of my breasts, utterly erotic, the way they had felt this
morning.  But not with stuffing covering them up.  I told her that the
main pleasure of a bra for me was the feel of my extended nipples
rubbing on blouses and suits.  These breast forms feel strange and
nice, I said, but they do cover my nipples so I couldn't feel them.

Jill listened attentively, and nodded.  For once she sounded serious,
sincere, not merely enthusiastic, when she said, "Then darling, we
especially want to get to our next stop.  We'll put off getting you
your waist cincher, and some other things you need.  We'll go right
now."

Out from the mall and back to the car, with me feeling jiggly and top
heavy in front and stretched out in back the whole time.  Jill drove
directly to a professional building a few miles away, and we entered
the office of a woman doctor who called herself an Endocrinologist.  As
we waited for the receptionist to announce us I drew back a little
worried.

"Jill, what do you have in mind?  Are you thinking about hormones for
me?  I don't need hormones.  I like who I am.  That's how I want to
be."

Jill smiled sweetly at me, and took my hands in both of hers, and began
speaking, never letting go her grip on me, her eyes never wavering from
mine.  "Dear, dear, darling Jane.  I know how you feel.  I know just
what you're feeling now.  I know how you want to be.  I'm a woman like
you, remember.  We love each other.  We would do anything for each
other.  This is what I'm doing for you, and it's what you're doing for
me.  We're here so you can begin to persuade your body of what your
mind already knows, that you want to be a woman, much more of a woman
than you are.  Isn't that so?"

"Don't be afraid darling.  Your own body has always produced female
hormones as well as male.  You may have been washed in them in the
womb, and that may be why you have these urges to let your femininity
express itself by wearing women's clothes.  Remember, that's what you
told me.  Now this doctor will restore your hormonal balance of mind
and body, so you can be more of what you want.  With just a little more
estrogen, you'll become a lot more shapely.  You'll fit your clothes
better.  You'll have hips you can sway when you walk.  Best of all,
you'll have your own breasts.  Your very own!  You won't ever need to
cover up that delicious feeling in your nipples.  Your nipples will
lead the way wherever you go!  Your own body will fill a C cup, even a
D cup if you want!  Jane, do you want your own breasts, or do you want
to go through life envying everyone else's?"

Jill paused and looked at me steadily, waiting for a reply.  "I'd love
to have my own breasts," I blurted out.  It was true!  Not everything
else that went with them, of course.

"I know you do," Jill said.  "I know what you want.  And if you don't
like any of what happens, everything is reversible.  You just stop
taking your pills and everything ends up the way it was.  But
understand me!  If you don't have the courage to be what you want to
be, I can't respect you.  It would mean you're still too much Jack,
still too afraid to be yourself to be anyone at all.  Well, I won't
live with Jack.  I've tried it.  It didn't work!"

The receptionist returned.  "The doctor will see you now."

I stood up, suddenly aware that I was wearing a skirt and lipstick and
mascara, that my hair was curly, my ears pierced, and my eyebrows
plucked, that my chest was pushed out in front and my ass waggled when
I walked, and that my pussy was stretched and filled by a butt plug,
and that with all this I was worried that I might become too female.
It was ridiculous.  What could I say?  I had to embrace the inevitable.
"Jill," I said.  "I want to be your girlfriend, or your lover, or your
wife, or however you'll have me.  You're right.  It's just that all
this is so new, and it's happening so quickly!  Please help me!"

Jill took my face in her two hands, right there in the reception room,
and leaned forward and kissed me.  "Don't worry, darling" she said,
looking me fondly in the eyes.  I thought we must look very strange to
the receptionist, two women kissing, but she just stood by the door to
the inner office and waited for us.

We went in and sat down.  Jill pulled a stack of papers from her
portfolio and handed them to the doctor, a slim and rather pretty
blonde with oversized horn rim glasses and a way of looking directly at
you when she talked or you answered.  She looked them over, then looked
at me.  "I see you're dressing full time now, Jill..  For how long have
you been doing this?"

"Ever since I can remember," I said in a small voice, reminding myself
to try my "lady voice" next time.  Then I realized she meant how long
have I been wearing women's clothes exclusively.  A month, maybe more,
is what I tried to say, but nothing came out.

She went on.  "You've had proper counselling for the required amount of
time?" Jill nodded, and I sat there.  "And on careful reflection, do
you really and truly want this?"

Jill turned and looked at me as I sat without speaking.  Her gaze
seemed to grow more severe as I struggled to say something.  "I do," I
blurted out into the silence.  The answer sounded strangely familiar.

"All right then, dear.  I have your blood work-ups here.  They're
fine." I wondered what she was talking about, and then realized Jill
must have turned in some old medical records of mine in order to move
things along.  But I had no objection.  "You know," she glanced at her
papers, "You're very fortunate, Jane.  Most women who take a step like
this lose their spouses.  Divorce is almost inevitable.  But your wife
is the most supportive I've ever known.  In fact, because you have such
a favourable domestic environment I'm going to recommend a new kind of
regimen to you, one that will accomplish what you wish in perhaps half
the time.  It's a combination of shots, pills, and an implant, all at
once.

It's pretty high-powered.  Your wife here will be necessary to the
process, because during the first week or so you may feel moody or
nauseous, until your system adjusts.  It'll be a little like morning
sickness, a hormone bath washing through your entire body, changing
everything at once.  But no matter how you feel, once started you must
continue with it, the pills and the shots and periodically an implant
renewal.  The second week you may feel the same, but the body adjusts
and reactions begin to level off.  Some women begin to feel very horny
at this stage, and experience a kind of farewell burst of energy from
their penises, before they begin to shrink and lose their sexual
function.  After a month or two you'll find your erections are no
longer as hard, and they eventually disappear altogether, at least
while the hormone bath treatment continues.  You'll find you can still
climax, but it will be dry, more like a woman's spasms in orgasm, not
at all unpleasant I'm told."

She paused to look closely at how I was taking this news, saw no
reaction, and continued.  "Your nipples will swell up, and you'll see
changes in your skin, and some of your body fat will redistribute, onto
your hips and your tush I'm afraid.  But we can't all look like Barbie,
can we?  The third month you'll feel wonderful, there's a kind of
hormone-induced euphoria, and you'll also begin to see real breasts of
your own growing.  After that I think you'll love seeing your progress,
and so will Jill here.  In about six months you'll have completed your
girlhood puberty, so to speak, and we'll put you on a sustaining dosage
as a woman.  Shall we begin?"

I felt uneasy, but Jill took my hand, and I held onto it tightly, and
said nothing.  "Please," she said, "lift your skirt and lower your
panties, so I can inject some fairly heavy intramuscular doses.  These
are in a time release formula, two weeks worth of shots all at once.
Jill can do them afterward if she watches me closely today.  It's very
simple.  Bend over." I did.  "A little closer, please." I pushed my
rear end way out, until it felt like a whore's bottom thrust out at a
customer for convenient fucking.  I felt her needle enter one buttock,
then pause.  Then the other.  "Now, dear, your belly.  We'll want to
place the implant in fatty tissue." She made a quick incision, placed a
waxy rectangle under a fold of skin, deftly taped it up, and placed
another tape on top.  "There," she said, "I'll bet that scarcely hurt
at all!" Then she handed Jill some bottles of pills and some packages
of syringes and some prescriptions for more, and turned to me and said,
"I only wish I could do more for you, Jane.  But with these hormones
you'll do it all for yourself.  You'll love being a woman, trust me.
None of us would have it any other way.  But I'm sure you already know
that."

"I know," I replied.  I looked at Jill with an almost child-like sense
of helplessness, and she smiled reassuringly at me, and I tried to
smile back.  I guess I'm being a good girl, I told myself to try to
cheer myself up.  But this was all moving very fast, and I couldn't
catch up.  In fact from then on I was always a little disoriented.
Jill kept increasing the pace and hauling me along, faster and faster.
Trying to be a good girl, I never found a quiet moment when I could
decide for myself whether I wanted to be good, or a girl.  All that had
been settled for me.

Jill took me back home instead of back to the mall, because I was
already beginning to feel a little queasy.  She tucked me into bed, and
I slept though the afternoon, getting up only to use the bathroom, and
to take out my butt-plug and put in a fresh tampon, then to replace the
butt-plug.  That evening she got into bed with me, and held my prick,
and I moaned a little and hugged her, and she jacked me off into her
hand.  I never got hard, but I did come, and she held the handful of
cum up to my face for me to lick.  I kissed her, and swallowed it, and
licked her palms and fingers clean, and kissed her again.  Then I slept
through the next day and evening.  Jill gave me some pills to swallow
and jacked me off again, soft, and I came again, but this time nothing
came out, just a slight oozing.

But the next morning when I woke up I felt fine.  Jill had already gone
to her office, but I showered, and shaved my legs and changed my tampon
again, and cleaned my butt plug (by now it was slipping right in, no
problem), and dressed in a blouse and skirt and went for my
electrolysis session wearing my new mastectomy bra.  When Jill came
home from the office I had dinner on the table.  The hormones continued
to pour into me, but I had gotten accustomed to them.

Marianne called, and I went back to her salon in the motel and had a
pedicure, and she finished my nails, and retouched my hair, and called
my pierced ears healed and hung a gold hoop in each.  When I revisited
her two weeks later so she could re-curl my hair where it was growing
out, she noticed that my skin was smoother and my butt seemed rounder.
I told her to stop teasing me, but I looked closely, and it was true.
She saw I liked it, grinned, and amused, waggled her own rear end at
me.  I waggled mine back at her, still seated, and we both laughed.  It
was fun being one of the girls!

Soon I was taking my pills regularly, and my shots, and had graduated
to the next size of butt plug, and my erections had returned.  The next
month or so our lovemaking was very much like those first weeks after
my arrival home from the motel, my first weeks as a real woman, as Jill
called them.  We overwhelmed each other with our lovemaking, and
neither of us seemed to get enough.  My breasts became so deliciously
erogenous that Jill's bare tongue on my nipple could get me to do
anything she wanted, and her fingers on my both nipples could bring me
to orgasm without her having to touch me anywhere else.  I got
incredibly horny one night, and humped her three times before my
erection went down.  Then when she asked me to I sucked all of the cum
back out of her, along with her other juices, and tried again.  For the
moment, no go.  She got out the double dildo and told me to lie on my
back with my legs spread out high in the air, my pussy wide open to
her.  I lay there gleeful and eager, half out of my mind I suppose, but
desperately impatient to feel that cock thrust inside me.  Then she
lubricated me and humped me with it, and we both came yet again,
shrieking, her body falling over me and her breasts flopping in and out
of my mouth while I sucked at them as best I could.  She was doing it
yet again when I fell asleep, from sheer exhaustion, the double dildo
still plunged in my ass.

The next day I came back from giving myself my nightly enema, my
vaginal douche Jill called it, to find I had graduated to the
next-to-largest butt plug, and soon after to the largest, which had a
vibrator in it.  Once that butt plug became my anal jewelry, so to
speak, Jill would smile devilishly at me after dinner, reach under my
skirt, pat my fanny, switch on the vibrator, and tell me she'd join me
upstairs in ten minutes, or a half-hour.  Or maybe she'd say nothing at
all.  I'd run up and change into a pretty negligee and wait for her, or
if she said nothing I'd go into the living room and try to read or
watch television.  But I could never concentrate with that vibrator
going.  After a while I would cum without anyone touching my prick,
just sitting there, and then again after a while I would cum again.  By
this time she had me wearing a condom whenever the vibrator was on.
When finally Jill joined me in bed and switched the vibrator off the
condom was half full and I was half-crazed.  Then she'd give it to me
to drink down.

Little by little my cum became less and less plentiful, and after a few
more months there was hardly enough to lubricate Jill or me to receive
a dildo.  After we had fucked and I was licking her out the flavour was
almost all hers.  One morning while I was licking and sucking at her, I
felt and tasted a sudden surge of warm liquid, and as I sucked it up
and swallowed it there was more, not slick but watery, and then there
was even more.  I slurped and swallowed it repeatedly, as fast as I
could, but still some of it ran out of my mouth.  I looked up at Jill
from between her legs, and she looked down at me with an impish
half-smile on her face, and I understood.  I opened wide and pressed my
upper lips against her mound and my lower lips as far down as I could
reach, and sealed off the area as best I could.  When she saw I was
ready she peed a full stream directly into my mouth, and I tongued it
into my throat as fast as I could swallow it, and it kept coming, and I
nearly choked with the effort to swallow it all.  But finally, I did.
It was wonderful.  I felt I was swallowing her most intimate, most
feminine interior fluid and making it mine, making her me.  When I told
her that, she never again rose from our bed to urinate.  No matter what
the time of night or morning, all she had to do was take my head in her
two hands and kiss me, then begin to move my face down her body, and I
would know.  I would press my head into her crotch, and eagerly drink
everything she could squeeze out of herself.  "My dearest little
toilet," she called me when she wanted to reward me.  I loved it.

Some of our nights or mornings together were reserved for pussy
training, as Jill called it.  First I would go to the bathroom and
clear out my lower colon with the super enema, inserting the whole
contraption, sealing my opening by blowing air into the balloon-like
bladder, then forcing a quart or more of water into me, to be held
until Jill judged the time sufficient and told me I could release it.
I would then let the air out of the anal seal, and remove the enema,
and my lower intestine would gush out everything, and I was ready for
her.  Plentiful jelly was supplied, and Jill then strapped the
double-dildo into her cunt and slid the other side into mine, then rode
my ass until the pressure in her pussy got overwhelming and she came,
or sometimes the both of us came together.  It was a little like the
vibrating butt plug, because strange feelings were stimulated inside
me, not in my penis, and I was beginning to enjoy them more and more.
I even began to prefer them as months went by and my erections got
increasingly unreliable.

Some time into the fourth month of my hormone bath Jill brought out a
new butt plug, the biggest I had ever seen, the size of a fist at its
widest diameter and the thickness of a wrist at its base where it
narrowed down.  A few weeks later I was easily slipping it in and out
of my pussy.  Then one night Jill brought out that monstrous rubber
prick and told me to get on all fours, my rear end high in the air.  I
did.  She worked it into me, and I took the thing up my ass with tears
in my eyes and an unspeakable joy in my heart.  My butt was stretched
utterly full, bursting, and I thrust back against that huge dildo in
spasms, bucking like an animal in heat and making throaty, high
pitched, whining noises.  The following day was the first she
fist-fucked me.  This felt utterly glorious, and rendered me helpless.
Jill obviously loved seeing and feeling me reduced to a slab of
whimpering meat wrapped around her arm, because for the next few months
she did it frequently, almost on whim.  By then my sphincter wouldn't
seal up my anus any more, and I wore tampons and panty-liners all of
the time.  I was "pussy trained."

Jill gave away Jack's clothes soon after my hormone treatments began.
"Oh Jane," she said to me while we were lying together one morning, "I
hate your pants.  And you look so cute in a skirt.  Let's give away all
of your boy things, even your girly boy things.  I want to feel you're
always open to me." So we did, cute shorts, harem pants, slacks, even
panty-hose.  My panties became the only barrier between my asshole and
her whims whenever she had a mind to shove something into me.  But I
had to wear them.  Between the enemas and the size of my opening, I
trickled whenever I was exposed.  Even so, she wanted access to me
whenever she was home, so when I heard her car in the driveway, I took
out my tampons and butt plug, inserted a panty-liner in my crotch, and
waited to see what she might do.  It was peculiar, sitting with my legs
crossed and waiting for her to enter the house, feeling both ladylike
and sluttish.  wondering what the evening had in store.

What happened during those six months was, knowing I was still somehow
a man, I became a woman.  Not much during the first few weeks, of
course, when I was getting accustomed to that massive dose of hormones.
I did lose the ten pounds Jill had prescribed, and my dress size went
down to a twelve, and gradually I filled out my wardrobe, sometimes
with Jill's help and sometimes by myself.  I returned to the Doctor for
checkups or additional shots in the butt, and my ass and my hips filled
out, and my waist narrowed, and my breasts grew until by the fifth
month I no longer needed breastforms and they went into a bottom
drawer.  The electrolysis was completed, and my face looked like a baby
girl's.  Marianne changed my hair style and piled curls especially on
the crown and back of my head and down one side, and she and Jill and I
all agreed I looked cute as could be.  I adored it.

I fucked Jill as best I could while I could, but toward the end there
were no more erections, and that was that.  I tried to make it up to
her by avid sucking on her pussy, and I was eager to become her toilet
on call.  But now it was the double dildo that linked us together.  One
night I discovered that Jill could also use that monster rubber penis,
not just me.  I was slurping and fingering her when she asked me to get
it and lubricate it.  I took the tube of jelly, and she said, "No, with
your mouth." So I did.  It was like old times, licking up a vein on the
underside, and trying to suck the head into my mouth.  It wasn't Carl,
and I had no feeling for it, but it was huge!  Jill had me lie on my
back with the thing poking up between my legs just below my crotch,
where my own prick just lay there like a deflated balloon.  Then she
mounted me and positioned it under her, and we made love the way Carl
had made love to me the first time, only this time I got to watch her
climb on top of me while I was on my back.

I played with her titties, and kissed them, and took her waist in both
hands as Carl had taken mine, and started her rhythmic movement up and
down.  Once Jill could feel the tip pressing against her pussy, she
lifted and lowered herself over and over, and gradually sank down onto
it.  When she finally had most of it inside her, she settled between my
legs, and then with the full length shoved into her it seems she just
sat there, unable to move.  I realized she was in a kind of fugue, a
pre-orgasmic suspension in time, maybe not even conscious.  So I took
the flange in both hands and started to work it in and out of her.  She
went up like a skyrocket, writhing and arching her back and stretching
out her arms to the ceiling, and screaming, over and over until
gradually she subsided.  When I took that huge thing out of her it was
like assisting at a birth.  She was covered with sweat, and exhausted.
She smiled weakly at me in gratitude, then fell sound asleep.  But six
months into my hormone treatment that rubber telephone pole had become
our common lover.  She would use it on me, and then I'd use it on her,
and we'd both enjoy paroxysms of pleasure from it.

Those six months she worked days at her law practice and nights and
mornings with me, while my body was transforming before her eyes.  One
morning she watched me putting a bra on by leaning way forward, so my
breasts could fall into the cups and be contained by them before I
straightened up and pulled the straps into position.

"You're a real woman, Jane," she said with surprise in her voice.

"What did you expect?" I asked her as I adjusted my bra and reached for
a slip.  "I've been drowning in hormones for a long time now, as if
there were no tomorrow.  Is there a tomorrow?" What I meant was, when
would I be woman enough for her to put me on a smaller sustaining dose,
so I could begin to see if any of my old male reflexes had survived her
shock treatment.  I was especially interested in whether I could get an
erection again.

"Yes, dear.  There is a tomorrow.  You look just lovely." She said it
half-abstractedly, as if her mind had turned somewhere else and was
thinking through something different.  For five minutes she stood by
her dresser staring into the middle distance, while I slipped into my
dress, and stockings and garterbelt, and pumps, and combed out my curls
and touched up my face.  She didn't seem to notice.  "Jill, are you
there?" I asked, waving my hand in front of her face.  "I'm going out
now to the hairdresser.  You're going to be late for work."

She looked up at me and beamed broadly, suddenly back in time present.
"The hairdresser, wonderful!" she said.  "You make yourself pretty for
me, darling, and wait up for me.  But don't wait dinner.  I'm going to
be a little late tonight."

I was sitting up in bed reading when I heard her come in, wearing my
prettiest satin nightgown.  I loved the way the tips of my filled out
breasts and enlarged nipples rubbed against the material -- my nipples
were by now in a permanent state of erection, it seemed, even when my
penis had forgotten how.  It was nearly midnight.  I sat watching the
door to our bedroom and listened while she came up the stairs slowly,
as if tired.  The poor dear.  When she came into the bedroom she looked
tired, too, but there was something strange.  She also looked a bit
flushed, even excited, and she was still carrying her purse instead of
leaving it on the hall table downstairs.  She looked at me, and smiled,
and leaned back against the door, and her smile grew wider, a kind of
cat about to eat the canary smile..

"What is it, Jill?" I asked as I set my book aside?

"I have something for you," she said.

"Really, what?" I asked.

"Wait till I get in bed with you, and turn out the light.  It's a kind
of surprise."

"Oh?" I made room for her while she undressed quickly, and slid in next
to me naked, without stopping to put on a nightie.  She left her purse
on the night table, right at hand.

"Now lie back and close your eyes," she said with a delicious smile.
And she leaned over to kiss me, so very sweetly and softly that I
closed my eyes without thinking, and then left them that way.  "Do you
know what you haven't tasted lately?" she asked.  I thought it through
quickly.  Not her cunt, which I still sucked passionately whenever she
needed to pee, and which I always sucked as the main way we made love
now that my prick could no longer perform.  "Open your mouth." I did,
eyes still shut, face turned up on the pillow, aware that I had put
lipstick on just before getting into bed so I'd be pretty for her,
hoping she thought I was pretty as she leaned over me.  "This!" she
said as if she were entrancing me in a magic spell.

I felt a thick, warm, viscous substance drip onto my lower lip, and I
reached to taste it with the tip of my tongue.  It was a little sweet
and a little salty, like Gatorade, and at first I didn't recognize it.
Then on an exhale I caught the faintest hint of laundry bleach, and
suddenly I knew.  My eyes flew open.  I saw in the gloom that Jill was
suspending a condom upside down over my mouth, and at that moment about
a teaspoon of pale cloudy substance a little like mucous glopped out of
it and into my mouth and onto my lips.

"Swallow it, dear," she said.  I had no choice.  I swallowed, feeling
bewildered, and annoyed, and sensing a spark of anger surging somewhere
underneath.  What was she doing?  Was this a practical joke?  Again she
leaned over and kissed me, with infinite sweetness, and again her lips
lingered.  I waited for her to break off so I could cry out "Whose is
that?!  Where did you get it?!" But her lips stayed grazing mine, and
she began murmuring to me.

"My dearest, dearest Jane, tonight we are celebrating together the
start of another stage in your transformation.  You are real woman.  I
saw that when you were putting on your bra this morning, so gracefully,
so naturally, with your pretty tits held up in the cups of your pretty
brassiere.  I am so proud of you!  You look so feminine now, and I know
that you are making yourself as pretty as you can for me, and I love
you for it.  You are so much a woman now that I can't possibly think of
you as my husband.  You aren't anyone's husband any more.  And I'm not
your wife.  The only part of your masculinity that remains doesn't
matter.  It doesn't get erections, and it doesn't make cum.  When you
were my husband you made love to me with your prick like a man, and
when you were my wife you drank up your own cum afterward like a woman.
But no more.  We're past that.  Now you are my dearest girlfriend.  We
love each other.  We share everything with each other.  Don't we?"

She paused as if waiting for an answer.  I started to murmur back at
her "Yes, but...," but all I could get out was the first word, and she
began again.

"Yes, everything.  You are almost everything a woman should be.  In
fact your hormone bath treatment can end any day now, whenever you
wish.  It's now up to you.  It could have ended with your last checkup,
you remember, when you went from a B cup to a C cup?  But then I still
wasn't sure you were the woman you should be, so I told the doctor you
needed more time to find and use your new desires, to feel how strong
they are, before she put you on a sustaining dosage.  That's what we
are going to do now, Jane my love."

I was puzzled, but I did have a dark suspicion.  "What are we going to
do now, Jill dear?" I asked as gently as I could.

"Why my darling, we are going to explore the marvelous world of men.
You and I together.  Each night we are going to make love to men, each
of us.  We've already begun.  What we've just shared is a man's sperm.
Doesn't it taste marvelous?  As a woman I know you love it.  You'll
want to put it inside you every way you can.  The urge can be
overwhelming, and I want you to let it grow into a powerful force.  To
yield to it, and yet remain a lady, that is the true test of your
womanliness.  I'm going to help you, my love.  I'm going to share this
wonderful voyage with you."

I began to feel frightened.  "But Jill, I don't want men.  I want you!
That's why I've done all these things all of these months.  That's why
I've let you do these things to me."

"Darling," Jill resumed, and she began to caress one of my nipples with
her finger, and I began to melt into the bed.  She kept talking.
"Everything I've done is what you wanted me to do.  When I married you
I thought I married a man, but you were really a woman without the
courage to be yourself, only a man who liked to sneak around in women's
clothing.  Well, I changed all that, didn't I dear?  And Carl." She
started to suckle on one of my tits, and I went into ecstasy.  "Carl
found a humiliated and intimidated transvestite, and in one night he
changed her into a proud and passionate woman.  Do you remember how you
felt when you arrived home?  You were completely feminine in mind and
spirit.  Now you're also a woman in body, very nearly.  It's time for
you to enjoy the most sublime experiences a woman can have.  Our
marriage is over now, Jane.  It has done its work.  Now we're going to
make love to men.  Many men.  You say you want me.  You have me.  And
this is what I want you to do for me!  And for yourself.  You will,
won't you darling!"

And with this she fell to kissing and tonguing and licking my nipples,
first one and then the other, until I nearly fainted.  "Oh yes!" I
cried out impulsively as her tongue lifted me toward heaven.  "Yes!
Yes!" And then and there I came, in a glorious orgasm, all inside of me
somewhere, my shrunken penis and balls taking no part but the mound
behind them tensing into excruciating anguish and then pulsing out as
pure joy in wave after wave of magnificent feeling, washing through
every part of me.  "Ooohhhh," I cried out, "Ooooohh, Ahhhh, Jilllll,
Ooohh, Yesss!"

"I thought so," Jill said, lifting her head.  "Then we won't ever
discuss this again.  Don't worry, sweetheart, I'll make all of the
arrangements.  Here, love, enjoy this for now.  Suck on it, until we
find you something nicer to suck."

And she tucked the used condom into my mouth.  Whose condom?  Whose cum
was I sucking?  How did Jill come by this condom filled with some man's
spunk?  Where was she earlier tonight?  Jill, my wife?  My ex-wife, now
my best girlfriend?  My best girl friend, who brought home to share
with me the taste of some fuck or suck she'd had earlier this evening.
Now she wanted us to double date, so I could fuck or suck for myself?
Did she see this time coming?  Is this why she was feeding me my own
cum all those weeks, when I still had any?  Is this why she was
stretching my asshole, until it could take any prick as easily as if it
were a cunt, and would feel like a cunt to any prick?  My own prick was
now useless to her, and to myself as well.  There was nothing I could
say.  My mouth was full of thin latex coated with globs of someone
else's jism.  I rolled it over and over on my tongue, extracting and
tasting and swallowing every last drop.