|by Sandra Steeple-Langford|
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|© Copyright 2017 - Sandra Steeple-Langford - Used by permission|
|Storycodes: Solo-M; F/m; Fts/m; cd; explore; mast; insert; climax; makeup; breastforms; feminise; wig; tape; smoke; bodymod; surgery; breast implants; oral; sex; climax; cons; X||
|My Awakening Sandra Steeple-Langford Solo-M; F/m; Fts/m; cd; explore; mast; insert; climax; makeup; breastforms; feminise; wig; tape; smoke; bodymod; surgery; breast implants; oral; sex; climax; cons; X|
What’s happening to me. I have never really looked at a man sexually before but, now, the first thing I see is the bulge in his pants.
Throughout my early years I have dedicated my life to the pursuit and study of women. They are the most heavenly and desirable creatures on the planet and I have sought to dedicate my life to becoming like a woman in every way possible. I have studied their exquisite shape and form, their looks and mannerisms, their ways of speaking and behaving and have sought to emulate them as best I can.
As far as men were concerned, I never noticed them. What is a handsome man? I do not know. An ugly man, in my eyes, is fat and/or hairy, except for the hairs he must have on his head, that is.
Now, I am positively looking at men and do so from their crotch up. The other places of interest seem to be, surprisingly, the back of his neck and the cuteness of his bum. But my centre of interest is always his bulge. I look at it inquisitively and longingly. Is he really that big naturally or is he stiff? Is he stiff because he finds me attractive? If the answer to either of the questions might be yes, I desperately want to unwrap the parcel and enjoy its contents.
Throughout my early childhood mother and I have bathed together. I sat between her legs with both of us facing the taps. The bath water was always bubbly and smelt wonderfully feminine. I rested between her beautiful breasts while she used a sponge to wash my front. She always lingered around my cockette then asked me to kneel forward so she could do my back. She explained that I needed to be clean inside and out so when she got to my bum, she would first pull back my foreskin, then cup my cock in her left hand and giggle it in the soapy water while she slid a soapy finger from her right hand into my bum. The first time she did that the pain made it unpleasant but after a few weeks it became easy and strangely enjoyable. I guess that I just relaxed more.
Then it was my turn. I swivelled round to face Mum and soaped her wonderful front, enjoying her shape and smooth body but particularly her breasts until, that is, she introduced me to her inner cleanliness and explained how I should ensure that she was as clean as I was, front and back. Until then, I had no idea that the slit in her crotch where her cockette should have been actually hid a hole that she called her honey pot and a miniature cockette that she called her clitty.
She helped me explore her mysteries and then instructed me on how to clean them. I could get the sponge and my whole hand into her honeypot but only a couple of fingers into her bum. She just lay back and let me clean both holes together while she tickled her clitty with her finger and relaxed with a smile on her face.
After bathing we would dry and dust ourselves with fragrant talc, then put on matching pink silk dressing gowns and sit on the sofa, snuggled together watching TV until it was time for bed.
So, that was our nightly ritual until one evening, unexpectedly, while enjoying my inner cleansing, my cock sprang to attention. Mother was as surprised as I was because I was still very young.
"Look at you", she said, "your body is changing. You are growing up and becoming a man. Soon your lovely smooth body will be covered in hair and your cock will be so charged up with spunk that you will be squirting it about morning noon and night".
"But Mum", I said, "I do not want to change. I like the way I am".
To which she responded, "We will see how you feel when you are older".
About a year went by during which my cock got larger and my ball sack seemed to be developing. I tried to hide both of them by squeezing them into tight pants but they were all too visible when we had our bath.
Then one day when we were drying ourselves, Mum said, "Look at you all spunked up and weeping cum, don’t you know how to deal with it".
I cried. "I do not want to be spunked up", I said , "and I do not know what you are talking about."
She sat me on the toilet and told me to relax while she rubbed my cockette up and down in her hand. Relax! That was a joke. I was rigid with straining passion watching her beautiful face and swinging boobs as she worked on my cockette which was fast becoming a cock. She stopped abruptly and said, "Now let me see you do it yourself so that you will understand how to de-spunk yourself. However", she said, "tell me before it squirts so that I can catch it in my mouth. We do not want to make a mess in the bathroom, do we?"
I did not realise the significance of her using her mouth and thought it a bit strange that she would want me to squirt anything from a wee hole into anything but a toilet. But I followed her instructions.
I tensed, and knew something was about to happen, so called her and she put her lips round my cock and began to suck as I rubbed it increasingly quickly and firmly until it squired into her. I then collapsed into a relaxed jelly like form.
"Mm", she said, licking her lips, "do you want to see how good it tastes?" I nodded and she kissed me for the first time as a woman would kiss a man rather than a mother would kiss her son. My cum rolled between our mouths as our tongues entwined. It tasted strange but good and my cock sprang to attention again.
"Looks like you need a proper milking!" she said. "One wank is not enough. Do you want to go to your room and do it yourself or would you like me to do a special job for you that will keep you happy until the morning?" she said. "I know", she said, "we’ll give you a girly cum and see how you like that. Come to my room and lay on the bed with your legs apart".
Her room smelt fragrant and the bed cover was silky and soft as I lay there with my cock sticking up proudly. "Let’s see if we can hide that ugly thing when I am finished", she said. "It will be soft and small so that you can tuck it out of the way and forget you have it for a while".
With that she put her head between my legs, took my cock in her mouth and pushed a lubricated index finger up my bum. As she sucked gently she rubbed the roof of the inside of my bum. She stopped and said, "Relax this will not be the same sort of thrusting squirting male cum you had before but a gentle female cum that will last and last".
I tried to relax but felt urgent, so I tried harder and harder until the pleasure increased and that helped me to start to feel heavy then floaty and then increasingly relaxed until my juices began to flow. As she said. it was not a tumultuous squirt but an increasing and consistent flow that melted out of me and into her mouth. I never wanted it to stop but then the moment came when I was completely drained and I pushed her away. Her head popped up smiling and she clamped her cum filled mouth to mine so that we could share each other’s pleasure. This time my cock stayed soft and became a cockette again.
"Can I do it for you now?" I asked naively.
"No", she laughed. "Girls do not get spunked up like men. They have a totally different system which you need to learn about before you decide on your future. However, that will be tomorrow’s lesson. Off to bed with you now".
"Can’t I stay with you in your big bed?" I said, "it is so soft and smells so much of you that I love to be in it and to feel close to you". She finally agreed and we snuggled up together and fell asleep.
I couldn’t wait until bath time the next day and pestered Mother all day about how females felt and how they cum but she would not be drawn.
When bath time came around we stood together in the nude and she invited me to explore her body. We talked about her breasts and how they produced milk for her baby, which had been me at one time of course! But there wasn’t any milk in there when I sucked them. She then explained about how babies are produced and that it is such a wonderful thing that god made it especially pleasurable to do. Humans enjoy the act but do not always want to have babies every time. So they use a contraceptive of one type or another to prevent it. People in love make love, sometimes to produce a baby and sometimes they just enjoy each other. People who just enjoy sex, fuck each other just for the fun of it.
She then helped me to explore her homey pot. She sat on the toilet with her legs open then pulled her lips apart for me to see her clitty and her vagina. She explained how everything worked and showed me how she masturbated and how intercourse worked. She then invited me to taste her juices, which were divine.
She finished by saying that now I was becoming a man our bathing together had to stop and we could not share each other intimately any more. What we had done so far was learning about sex but sex between mother and son was illegal and must not happen.
I was devastated.
For the next few years, I de-spunked myself morning noon and night and hated every minute of it. At school, I hated football and any sports and sought out every moment I could to play with the girls rather than the boys, who generally shunned me anyway. Then my credibility was enhanced when an opportunity came for me to talk about sex and it was clear that I was the most knowledgeable person there. The girls were particularly interested to learn from me and were fascinated with the insights I could demonstrate. By contrast, all the boys seemed to know about wanking but none knew anything about the opposite sex.
My initial credibility rose further when my discussions led to me in to establishing a relationship with the classroom sweetheart who turned out to be a really sexy bitch. She had failed to get any satisfaction from the guys who professed to be super studs and were the heartthrobs of all the girls. I spent many enjoyable hours caressing her and eating her pussy to great effect. I loved the taste of her in the same way I had enjoyed my mother. When I had finished, I would spread her juices over my cock and balls so that they smelled better than any man could smell and in the hope that they would just disappear by female power.
I never used my cock on her and she did not seem at all interested in any form of reciprocal pleasure for me. This was of little consequence to me as when I was de-spunking I used to close my eyes and pretend that she was licking my clitty, not my cock and, to make it more realistic, I fashioned a candle into the shape of a cock and fed it into my bum. I then rubbed the end of my cock with one finger in the way a girl would do to her clitty and tried to get the candle in the right place, so that I could manage to achieve the girly orgasm. It was wonderful and lasted forever.
Mother watched me growing up without ever saying a word about sex or my increasingly feminine ways and my choice of clothes which were on the feminine side of androgynous. However, she did notice that I was growing my hair long and never seemed to cut my finger nails. She finally said something when I came home one day wearing some studs in my ears. I said that I had lots of girlfriends who loved the way I looked and encouraged me to look more feminine, very much like the pop stars of the time.
"You will be wearing make-up next", she said, in a sort of ridiculing way, but I thought it would be a wonderful idea if only I could get away with it. I hated men’s clothes that seemed to be drab and lacked expression. So, little by little, I added further changes to my looks and hid items of female clothing in the back of my wardrobe to wear whenever I could and usually all the time for the girly underwear.
Then, I asked one of the girls at school to pluck my eyebrows which she thought was quite a lark. On another occasion, when I was with some girls who were getting ready to go out and were painting each other’s toe nails, one said, we should do yours as well! I readily agreed, much to their amusement, and I have tried never to be without painted toe nails from that day on.
Obviously, Mother could not turn a blind eye to the increasing number of changes to my appearance and attitude and neither did the boys at school. The latter called me a poof and turned with their bums to the wall as they walked along the corridors at school. I did not care about them, especially as it had not seemed to make any difference to my relationship with the girls in my class. However, Mother was a different problem. She said that I could not go around dressing effeminately as I was not a homosexual and that I was giving the wrong impression to everyone. She blamed herself for making me feel feminine in my childhood and teaching me things too early in my development. I couldn’t agree with her at all and told her I had always hated my cock and wished that I had been born a girl and would grow up to be a lovely woman smelling and looking like her.
The next Saturday I was at the house of one of my teenage girlfriends who, with her other friends, were experimenting with make-up. They all thought it would be a great giggle to do up my face as well. I sat back in the chair while they each, in turn, applied their skills to my face and ended by tonging and backcombing my hair into a female style. They all thought that I looked sweet and that I should wear make-up all the time. One of the girls changed my studs for dangly earrings, put a belt round my waist to make it more noticeable and bloused out my shirt to make it more feminine.
When they had finished, I paraded around for everyone to see. The girls then got into a huddle and giggled a lot. I thought that they might have been discussing some further improvements to my clothes but it was mischief they had in mind. They pushed me out of the front door and told me to walk home and see if I got any wolf whistles on the way. I did not know what to do or to say. They then slammed the door behind me and peeped together through the side window to watch my progress. I turned back, hoping no one had seen me. I rang the doorbell but no one came. There was just a lot of girlish laughter from inside.
There was nothing I could do except make my way home, hopefully without anyone noticing me. I waited at the door for what seemed to be a lifetime, plucking up courage, and then started my almost a mile long walk which took me along the high street and then into the housing area behind it. My confidence grew as I progressed, particularly when it seemed that nobody was noticing me and I caught glimpses of myself in shop windows. I thought that I looked like a girl in boyish clothes.
Everything went well until I was almost at home. Then, as I turned the last corner, I was confronted by a group of lads from school. I quickly crossed to the other side of the road but that was to no avail. They started calling me a poof and jibed about my appearance. Then they started pushing me against the wall. One of them grabbed my balls saying, let’s see if there is anything there. It hurt and I screamed out in response.
"Did you enjoy that?" I said, "It is you who seems to like holding men’s cocks not me!" The boy went into a rage and kicked me between the legs so hard that I fell to the ground in pain. Some passing adults saw what was happening and called out for the lads to stop and began to run over to help me. The lads promptly evaporated and left me huddled in a ball crying with pain.
A man picked me up and looked at me quizzically wondering what a boy was doing wearing make-up but I had recovered sufficiently to hobble off to the safety of my home.
Mother greeted me at the door as she had come out to see what all the commotion was about. "My poor love", she said as she ushered me inside. She took off all my clothes and bathed my cuts and scrapes then applied an ice compress to my balls and gave me some pain killers, which did not seem to have much effect on the throbbing. I put on my silk robe and sat uneasily next to her on the sofa.
She looked at my smudged make-up and what remained of my bouffant hairdo and said, "You silly boy, if you want you play dress-up you can always do it here in private with me".
"But", I said, "I do not want just to play dress-up, I want to be a girl, not a boy, and I want to be a girl all the time. I hate my cock and balls and I hope those boys have killed them so that they will fall off. I want to be soft and curvy like you and I want a honey pot to play with. I never want to be spunked-up ever again".
"Well, we will see about that when you are better", mother said. "Always is a very long time and you do not even know what it is like to be a man; I bet you are still a virgin! We will keep you off school for a few days while your wounds heal and we will talk about everything you have said when you are less wound up".
She then refreshed the compress on my balls and put me to bed with a sleeping pill.
A new day dawned and I awoke, for the first time for as long as I could remember, without a stiffy.
The ice had all melted but the compress was still cold. I took it off gently as I was still very sore. My cock seemed to have shrivelled away and my balls had all bunched up and had almost disappeared back inside me. I thought that it was a great improvement. If only I could wear some tight knickers, they might stay that way but that option would be just too painful. I had not taken my make-up off from the previous day so that I looked even more of a mess than I did when I got home and my pillow seemed to look like a Kandinsky.
I washed my face and went down to breakfast in my silky robe. Mother said, "let me look at you". She decided that I would mend, given time, and said, "After breakfast we will see if we can find you something to wear and make a better job of your face and hair than your friends did".
She went on to say that she had been on some web sites and talked to other mothers on forums about their sons who had similar dilemmas to mine. All of them had advised her to find someone to take my virginity so that I would have experienced full manhood with a sexy person before deciding on my long-term future. "For the meantime, and until my equipment had recovered", she said, "you can live here as a girl, with my help, so that you can experience that option. You will find out that it is not such a straightforward option as you might have thought".
Mother said that her plan was for me to be off school for a week, by the end of which she thought I would have recovered enough to have sex. She said she would arrange for a girl to go out with me on Saturday night and to seduce me when I took her home at the end of the evening. Mother would then discuss my feelings about the encounter on Sunday and we could make a decisions on my future after that.
Mother then told me to take a perfumed bath and join her in her boudoir where she would have sorted out some temporary clothes for me. She had found a bra and pants that were now too small for her so might fit me. She put in some foam to fill out the bra but said we would have to get something more realistic when we go to the shops. "Go to the shops!" I replied in trepidation, remembering only too well my last outing?
"Yes", she said, "if you cannot go out as a realistic girl then you cannot become one".
Mother said that she would do a better job of presenting me and, as she would be with me, there would be a greater level of acceptance by onlookers. She did not have a dress that would fit me but found a pink angora jumper and a pair of skin tight elasticated jeans. "No", she said, "that jumper needs blond hair and you are not ready for a permanent change of that sort until after Sunday at least".
Blow, I thought, as I really fancied being blonde.
She found a navy polo jumper instead much to my disappointment. The jeans went with it quite well and the jumper covered my small Adam’s apple. The tight jeans did not help much with my aching balls but I felt that I needed to suffer in order to be beautiful. A long jet pendant round my neck fell comfortably between my boobs, large matching drop earrings and Mother’s old watch added to the impression. Shoes were no problem as both Mother and I wore size 7. She found some black medium heeled sandals which showed off my already painted toenails.
"Let me look at you?" she said, "It is not great but I think you will do for now and until we can buy something that suits you better. Let’s sort out your hair and make-up next".
I sat at her dressing table watching what she did in the mirror. She scraped all my hair upwards onto the top of my head and secured it there with an elastic band wound round several times to stop it slipping. It gave me a strange look, something like a pineapple, but it had the advantage of drawing all my features upward, especially my plucked eyebrows which now had a really good arch. I loved that. She then found a pony tail hair piece in her drawer which she used to lengthen my very short one and back-combed it a little to blend it with my hair as it had a slightly lighter shade than my naturally dark hair. Finally, she applied some gel to smooth the hair from my hairline and to keep it from pulling out with the wind.
"Wow" I said, "I had never thought of having an up-doo and it really suits me".
We made coffee before she started work on my face. I had young and unblemished skin with little or no beard so she only needed to apply a light coat of foundation. My face was now all one colour and Mother explained how I needed to be given highlights and low lights to create the resemblance of a feminine shape. Girls, to a greater or lesser extend have natural contours. They also have a shorter forehead and generally have an upturned nose. She used other colours of foundation to reduce my forehead height and width, she slimmed my nose by giving it dark sides, then added a white line along the top, darkened my jaws, added pink to my cheekbones and put some white between my eyes and on my chin plus dark under the chin. She then blended it all in with some pearlescent blending powder. I looked like a different person and I loved the improvement she had made.
"You look pretty enough as you are", Mother said, "so I am just going to finish you off with a trace of brownish liner on your brows, two coats of mascara and a little pink lip gloss on your lips. You will look like a teenage girl", she said, "not like the overdone clown, as you appeared to be yesterday!"
She finished and I looked at my new reflection in the mirror. I quite fancied myself in a quiet non-raunchy sort of way. I thanked her profusely and hugged her to me. She said, "now let’s see what the world thinks about my new niece, as you cannot be my daughter. Everyone knows that I only have a son. We will go out for lunch and have an afternoon of shopping".
From that afternoon and for the rest of the week, my life was a heavenly whirl of happiness and new experiences. Men held doors open for me and held my chair in restaurants. I was called young Madam or Miss and, most importantly, no one said that I was a boy in girl’s clothing. I was scared to death in the lunch restaurant on my first outing but by that evening and in my new clothes, dinner was and exciting joy. I was allowed to drink a girly cocktail and chose delicate feminine non-fattening foods. A boy with his parents on a nearby table couldn’t takes his eyes off me and a girl who passed our table on her way out said, Hi.
At the shops that afternoon we purchased some underwear, a circular skirt and net underskirts plus a wide elastic belt (all being very fashionable at the time), some tops that I could mix and match and some high heeled slippers and a nightdress to wear at home. Mother said she was not going to waste money on more clothes as she felt sure that I would have a wonderful time as a man with my date at the weekend and would then prefer to continue my life as a boy.
The next day we did some cooking together, purchased some magazines and looked for fashion ideas that might suit me and looked for falsies and shapers on the web. We had a candlelight supper together and I was allowed a glass of wine. As it was evening, I was allowed to wear some lipstick and some false eyelashes which were becoming fashionable with young girls but not with older women. I left my first lipstick stain on a glass and felt very grown up. Mother complemented me on how I sat and walked and said that my gestures were already very feminine. She said that she could now understand why the boys at school ribbed me about being homosexual.
Over dinner I said that I did not want to go out as a boy at the weekend and that I would be much happier if Mother would be the person who took my male virginity if it ever had to be taken. She said that she was very flattered but was adamant that our relationship was already too close to be normal or sensible. Anyway, she had arranged for a very beautiful and sexy girl to provide the service and had already briefed her about the project.
After dinner, we put on our nighties and dressing gowns, watched TV for a while, cuddled up on the sofa and went to beds in our separate rooms.
I couldn’t sleep. It may have been the excitement or just the newness of my temporary new life. At about 1 o’clock, I decided to get a snack from the kitchen and walked passed mother’s door which had been left ajar. I peeped inside and saw that she was propped up on her pillows with her legs pulled up so that she could play with her clitty while she was smoking a cigarette. She did not smoke and I had never thought of her masturbating although she had shown me what women did. Her eyes were closed as I peeped in. I could see her clearly in a full-frontal view from the mirror on the dressing table at the end of the bed. I was mesmerised by the sight. The problem was that as she opened her eyes to flick her ash, she could see me watching her reflection. She stopped, closed her legs and swivelled round to face me, looking very embarrassed. "How long have you been there?" she said.
"Long enough to love you even more because of what I saw", I said. "You are so beautiful and so sexy that I know, without doubt, that I want to be exactly like you. How long have you been smoking?" I asked.
Mother replied, "Oh that is just a naughty thing to do sometimes when I want to feel extra sexy". Then she spotted my cock sticking out and pushing the front of my nightie with it.
It was the first time that it had been stiff since my trauma and it really needed relieving. "Look at you all spunked up", she said, "you had better go to your room and milk yourself."
"No", I said, "I want to fuck you and if you won’t let me, I will stay here and you can finish what you started while I milk myself."
Mother was horrified and said that there was no way that I was going to fuck her but finally reluctantly agreed to the mutual masturbation scenario.
We lay side by side on her bed looking at each other in the mirror as we masturbated. She took out and lit another ciggy and fed me some as we progressed. I said, "look at us, we are together but not together, please let me fuck your honey pot I want you so much". But I never heard her reply as I shot my load into the air at the thought of it and I was complete. Mother became more excited at the sight of my climax and finished herself off shortly afterwards.
We lay for a while in each other’s arms and drifted off into sleep.
The next day was a flop. We breakfasted in our dressing gowns and Mother steadfastly refused to talk about the night before. She did not offer to take me out as she had on previous days and we both moved around the house like “ships that pass in the night” This was a great disappointment to me as it would be my last girly day with the next being my ritual deflowering day. I cried myself to sleep.
Saturday dawned and Mother woke me with the dreadful news that I had been booked in at the barbers for a short back and sides at 11.00 and that I had to remove my nail and toe varnish and cut my nails before I went. "That is stupid!" I said. "What about my eyebrows and my ears?"
But she was unmoved and said, "We will make you look as much like a man as we can". All my female clothes and jewellery were whisked away and I was left with varnish remover and nail clippers.
The trauma at the barbers was even worse as Mother took me there so that she could sit and watch to make sure that I had it done properly. I wore jeans, a tee shirt and trainers and felt dreadful and uncouth. When the barber had finished, all that was left of my feminine self was the shaped eyebrows and some tiny holes in my ears.
For my evening date, I had to wear a suit and tie and I wished that I could dress it up some jewellery, a belt and some heels. I just looked boring. Mother said that I would do fine and went on to explain what she had arranged.
A girl called Angela would be my date for the night. Mother would drive me to her apartment. Angela and I would then walk to a restaurant nearby for dinner and dancing. Afterwards we would walk back to her apartment and I would stay overnight, with Mother collecting me the next morning at 10:00.
"But", I said, "what am I going to do for all that time and what if she doesn’t like me?"
"She is being paid to entertain you was her response!"
So, I was going to spend my first time as a man fucking a prostitute. My self-esteem took a big hit from that thought.
My grey suit and I arrived at Angela’s front door precisely on time at 19:30. "Wow!" I said, as she opened it. She was a stunner; tall, willowy but with large boobs that would have been judged to have been large on a thicker set woman. Her face was beautifully made up, although not exceptionally beautiful in itself. This made her strikingly attractive and she had hair to die for in a sort of mahogany tinted dark brown, bouffant with flick-ups in the modern style. She wore a boat necked black dress in a brocade. It was tight fitting under the bust and to the waist, from where it flared then slimmed at the hem. It looked fabulous and gave her bare neck a very kissable contour.
She offered me her hand which I kissed. We went inside for a moment while she picked up her wrap. Mother melted into the darkness and left us to get on with the date.
The restaurant was small and intimate and had a postage stamp dance floor and a three-piece band in the corner playing music to smooch to. We had a small round table in the opposite corner of the room, both sitting with our backs to the wall, and looking at the band. The location had the benefits of us being able to sit almost side by side while giving us some privacy, as most of the other customers were in front of us.
As we sipped some champagne cocktails, Angela put her hand on my thigh under the tablecloth and then slid it up to feel my cock. "Not much happening there yet", she said, as she took out a long white ciggy with her left hand and removed her right hand to light her ciggy with.
"Look", I said, "this was my mother’s idea not mine. She thinks that I should have the experience of male sex before I reject masculinity all together".
"Your Mother has already told me", she replied. "Don’t you find me at all attractive then?"
"Of course I do", I responded, "but I would much rather make lesbian love to you than pretend to be a man that I am not!"
"Well", she replied, "let’s do both. I’m up for it if you are too?"
While we dined, we talked about her clothes, where she had her hair done and where she had found the super-pointed winkle-picker shoes she was wearing. I told her how I hated the drab way boys dressed and wished I had a more feminine shape to show off the androgynous clothes I now wear when I cannot dress completely as a girl.
Angela said that she loved my eyebrows and thought that I could get away with wearing stud earrings which she thought were quite sexy on men.
Whilst we were waiting for coffee, Angela, insisted that we dance together. She draped her arms around my neck and rubbed her body up against me. I felt a slight stirring between my legs and became more hopeful that this whole event wouldn’t have a floppy end! I kissed her neck and wished that someone would kiss mine.
I took one of her ciggies to have with my coffee but soon put it out. It just did not look or feel the same without long nails and a girly buzz to set it off.
When we returned to her flat she led me straight to the bedroom, turned the lights down low, sat me in an easy chair and stripped her clothes off piece by piece to some sultry music. When she got down to her underwear, I stopped her so that I could study the effect. She was wearing a basque with suspenders and I had never seen one before except in a catalogue. It looked particularly becoming, although I realised that it may not work on me because my waist to bust length is greater than on a standard woman.
Angela said, "Well that has ruined the moment! I guess that my striptease had no effect on your cock then?"
"It did", I said, "but it did not make me all spunked up and urgent".
"We will have to try another approach then", she said, and knelt down between my legs, unzipped my pants and began sucking my cock which was half hard and playful, as she put it. To increase the effect, she put her fingers through the heart shaped hole in the front of her thong and scooped out some of her juices and gave me her fingers to suck. She then opened the front of my shirt and started to play with my nipples while she sucked with increasing intensity on my cock. It became more urgent and she smiled at her success.
"Do you want to put it inside my love heart?" she said.
"I will try", I replied, and she stripped me, lay me on my back on the bed and mounted my cock. As she fucked me she played with my nipples and kept asking me to “give it to her”. I presumed she meant my cum and as I looked at her beautifully made up face and bouncing bosom, I complied.
It was no great shakes of a cum but she had achieved her task and could tell Mother that she had done so. What she did not know then but learned afterwards, when we discussed the experience, was that in order to cum I was fantasising about her head being between my legs licking my clitty and giving me a lesbian cum.
When she learnt about this, she thought it would be a great idea if I were to show her exactly what I meant. She took off her peephole panties and lay on the bed for me so that I could lap up her juices intermingled with the cum I had left inside her. I guess that I am quite good at lesbian love as Angela writhed around, moaned and finally cried out with passion.
"We both deserve a ciggy after that", she said, but I said no, "I only smoke when I am a woman".
"Well", she said, "we will have to fix you up then", lit her own ciggy and bustled around finding underwear and clothes that she felt would fit me and make me look girly. Shoes were a problem as my feet were larger than hers, so she needed to borrow some from a neighbour and the same for a wig, as my hair had been cut so short.
As she left on her mission she told me to bath in her scented bubble bath and shave every part of my body where there was even a trace of hair, then dry myself and apply moisturising cream everywhere. I must say that, unfortunately, shaving all the hair off my crotch seemed to make my cock look bigger and I did not want a reminder of my inadequacy as a female. I walked nude to the kitchen to find some ice to try and shrink my cock. As I did so the door opened to herald Angela’s return. To my horror, she was not alone but had with her a gorgeous girl in a skin-tight leather suit, wearing thigh boots and extravagantly made up.
I tried to hide my shame behind my hands but both girls laughed and said, "We have seen more of those than you can imagine and yours is nothing exceptional!"
The tall be-leathered girl was evidently called Sally and was a drag artist friend of Angela’s. Angela had brought her to the apartment as she was much more practised in transformations than Angela and she wanted me to look extra especially good when she returned me to my Mother. Angela said that Mother had been wrong to try and push me back in to manhood as I was clearly a girl through and through.
Sally took some surgical tape from her bag and pushed my hands away from my cock. "We must hide that", she said, "so that you can get a nice smooth line between your legs. I am glad that you have shaved well because, otherwise, the tape would not stick properly and it would hurt even more when you rip it off. "
She stood behind me and as if doing it to herself put her arms around my body, pushed my right ball upwards into my body while pulling the empty sack tight between my legs. She then applied the first strip of tape diagonally from my bottom cheek to where my pubic hair would have been. This had the effect of ensuring the sack remained empty and out of the way so that the sack remained empty and the ball stayed hidden in the hole from which it had descended at puberty. The process was then repeated on the other side. Finally, Sally cut a small hole in the middle of one end of the final piece of tape and fed my foreskin through it. She then taped my cock downwards between my legs so that the end was close to my ass and the hole with my foreskin peeping through it was low down between my legs. Sally said that I would be able to pee through the hole so that I would not need to take the tapes off each time I wanted to go.
Next, she turned her mind to my body shape and stuck some silicone hip pads and false boobs to my body using two-sided surgical tape used by people who have a colostomy. This made the shapes stay where they were intended to be. She then fitted me with the first corset I had ever worn. God was it tight but with the pads improving my hips and a smaller waist, I certainly looked feminine shaped.
We then moved onto boob shape and she showed me how to use makeup to contour a cleavage shape between the artificial boobs and then to make them look as if they were growing out of me by squeezing what fat I had in my chest upwards and inwards using a plunge bra. With the flesh swelling above the bra, accentuated by the make-up and the bra full of silicone false boobs I had, to all intense and purposes, realistic breasts. Some elastic lacy panties covered the tape between my legs and the tightness of the downward pull on my cock and the slight residual bulge of my balls, now high up, gave a real camel-toe impression. I was impressed.
Angela covered my body with a silk dressing gown while they then both got to work on my face and nails. Angela said that she would use some stick on nails which would not be as good as more permanent alternatives but we really did not have time to do more. When these had been applied and my nails and toe nails were drying from the varnish they had applied, Sally begun on my face.
Angela said that she should not do me up like a drag star and Sally looked disappointed. However, she insisted that she should use some of her drag tricks to improve my look. First of all, she put a tight wig cap on my hair. She that applied a number of long thin strips of tape to my forehead and covered them along my hairline with a thin strip at ninety degrees to the others. She said that the hairline tape would help to hold the ends of the others in place when tension was applied to them.
She then began to apply that tension at either side and, working towards the middle, she tensioned each in turn and stuck them to the wig cap. The whole effect was like a face lift. My eyebrows were lifted into high arches, any bags in my eyelids disappeared and my eyes seemed to gain a slight upward and outward slant while my cheekbones were more prominent. All this gave Sally a much more feminine canvass to work with when she applied the various foundations and face shapers.
First there was the background colour, then the highlighter, under the eyes, between the brows, in a straight line from the top to the tip of the nose and then underneath the point of the chin. Next came the darker shapers at the sides of the nose, on the temples and at the hairline, under the chin and diagonally from my side burns to my chin. The patchwork quilt this created made my face more heart shaped, less long and my nose thinner and less noticeable. The magical change was made more realistic with blending powder, some less dramatic shapers, including some pink on the cheekbones, and some pearlescent finishing powder. You wouldn’t have known it was my face and the complexion was like silk to look at and to touch.
"We need to have a ciggy break before we finish you off", Angela said and proceeded to light three together in her mouth and passed them around to us. With a ciggy in my long-nailed hand I carefully copied the others, to emulate perfectly how women smoke.
Angela said to Sally, "You have made a wonderful job of the foundation but it does look heavier than most girls would normally wear. The counter-balance is that it does cover up all the male problem areas. Look Sally, I know that you want to show off your skills with some wonderful drag eyes and big glossy lips but I must insist that you restrict yourself to street makeup that will convince her Mother that she is really a girl. I am convinced of that and if her Mother is convinced, we also want every boy she meets to be convinced as well!"
Sally pulled a face and said, "You had better finish her off then. Every time I do a real woman’s face at the salon, they are more than impressed with the improvement I make to their make-up and their boyfriends love it. They always come back with tales of how they have been ravished."
"Yes", said Angela, "but you are doing it to people for whom there is no doubt that they are female and then for an extra special occasion where they want to be the centre of attention. Those same girls do not make-up like that every day."
"Well, they should do as they look better", Sally replied, and walked off in a huff to have another ciggy.
Angela did my eyes with lots of mascara, thin lines and just a touch of a brownish eye shadow. She applied girly pink lipstick to go well with the blonde wig she put on me to complete the effect. She then stood back to look at their combined efforts and declared that the black eyebrows were too bold and dramatic. Without spoiling what they had done, she plucked out almost all my eyebrows to leave only a thin line, which she then widened and intensified a little with a mid-brown pencil stoked diagonally upward to emulate hairs. "That’s better", she said, "those eyebrows are much more like a natural blond would have. Now for some clothes".
She undid the belt of my robe and it dropped to the floor revealing my feminine shape which was unfortunately accompanied by all its helpers. "We will have to start you on some hormones", she said, "then we will gradually be able to get rid of the padding. Also, as you are still young, you will be able to grow a wonderful head of female hair so that you will eventually be able to cast off your wig."
"That sounds wonderful", I said, "I wish that it would all happen quickly as I cannot wait".
"Be patient", she replied, "you have a lot of girly things to learn in the meantime, like how to sit, walk, talk and generally behave. We will also have to educate you in what girls talk about, although being so exclusively with your mother and the girls at school, as you have grown up, the last of those tasks has partly occurred naturally."
Then, she said, "Are you ready for your first lesson, what it feels like to be fucked, rather than doing the fucking, as we did before?"
I nodded apprehensively as Angela stripped down to her underwear while calling Sally to join us. "I’m afraid that Sally won’t be able to use her male cock on you and will have to use a strap on when we spit roast you. There are two reasons. Firstly, it doesn’t get hard anymore because all her male sex drive has been drained out of her as she has been on hormones for two years and, secondly, she is all taped up like you are so that she would not want to ruin her feminine lines. If you look between her legs in her super tight leathers, you can’t see a trace of a cock because it has shrunk so much. That is the combined effect of the hormones and the tightness of the taping."
I thought for a moment and then decided that a mini cock that did not work was a benefit and not a drawback.
Sally donned her dildo and strutted around proudly saying that it was her only regret that she couldn’t fuck either boys or girls anymore and she missed her morning wanks. Angela added that this was because Sally is still really a man at heart. She takes hormones to make her more realistic on the stage but she is actually bisexual and now can only have girly climaxes in the way that we are going to demonstrate on you now.
Angela had me lay on the bed, face up, and began by sitting astride my face. "First. I want you to learn how to give a woman a clitty cum so that eventually, when you have one, you will know what is required as most men are hopeless at giving head".
With all the practice I have had, this seemed an unnecessary process but I enjoyed doing it so said nothing.
"While you are doing it, I want you to drink up all my female juices so that you will smell and taste like a girl. Also, you will be able to enjoy eating up your own cum that you left inside me. All really sexy girls enjoy eating cum," she said.
I began. She told me to put the end of my tongue into the hood of her clitty and to lick it lightly and quickly. Her juices started to flow and I lapped them up. They were lovely. Her clitty began to grow so that it was just visible outside the hood and she began to press down on me to encourage me to use more of my tongue and to use more pressure. Occasionally globs of my cum descended with her juices and I swallowed them greedily. She tensed and moaned so I eased off but she cried "don’t stop, that was just an appetiser". She had three more cums before she climbed off me and said, "now I am ready to fuck you!"
She strapped on a glistening black dildo which she had first dipped inside her pussy to lubricate it with the real girly juices I now smelt of and had drunk my fill of. Then she lay on top of me, kissed me deeply and started to fondle my breasts. All the time I was aware of the stiff cock-like thing hanging between my open legs and I wanted it, so put my hand under my right leg and fed the tip towards my waiting mangina. "Gosh, you are learning fast", Angela said, as she began to thrust it into me. "Relax", she said, as she pushed harder and gained entry. I sighed and pulled her closer and into me. She waited a moment to let me get accustomed to the intrusion and then, while kissing me passionately she began a slow fucking motion, pressing the tip of the dildo upwards to rub on my prostate. It started to feel good and I wanted to hold her close but she had other ideas.
"Girls have to please men", she said, "so do not get carried away with the love of female contact. Much as I would like to finish off as we have begun. you really need to feel like a whore who has been taken by your man if you want to stir up the cum inside him!"
"Sally, she said, "give our new girlfriend a cock to suck".
Sally sat across my chest and fed his dildo into my mouth while Angela raised herself onto her hands to increase her angle of attack on my prostate and to allow Sally to get to my mouth. It wasn’t actually a spit roast as I was not kneeling but it was the next best thing to it. The dildo in my mouth felt nothing like I imagined a cock would do. It was hard cold and inflexible. All I could do was to imagine what it would be like if it were warn and resiliently stiff like a real cock.
However, the substitute in my ass was doing a better job. I was starting to get a warm feeling deep inside me and I knew something was about to happen. The feeling began to grow and to spread all over me. As it did, I felt a wetness trickling out of my foreskin which was still poking through the hole in the tape. My cock was still soft, although it felt as if it was trying to burst out of its restraint with every seepage. The warm feeling continued and the cum continued to flow and to puddle on the bed between my legs. Then as slowly as it had begun the feeling subsided and disappeared. I felt relaxed and spent as my two substitute men dismounted me.
"Look what a naughty girl you have been!" Angela said, pointing at the cum on the bed. "You cannot waste cum like that", she said. "Lap it all up like the good whore you are then we can have our after-sex ciggy together". I did as she bid and we all three sat in the lounge smoking and talking.
Sally told me that she had decided to take hormones because she wanted to look more realistic for her drag act. However, she wished that she hadn’t done so as she did not get turned on at the sight of herself anymore and worst of all she had no sex life now with either men or women. The problem was that there was no going back. The body and functional changes were largely irreversible so that I had better be sure that it is what I wanted, before starting on my permanent transformation.
Sally said that, with hindsight, she would just have had the body surgery to create boobs and hips, while remaining a functional man. She said that UK surgeons wouldn’t do the work but plenty overseas would do it.
I almost did not hear what she said as my mind had been made up a long time ago and I just did not want to hear any downsides.
As it was now almost morning, Sally asked if she could sleep over and started stripping off even before a yes reply was received. She had lovely boobs because of her implants as the hormones had not produced sufficient growth for the impact she wanted. She still had slim hips, although they had expanded a little. She told me that she would have them fattened with fat taken from elsewhere in her body and she would also have some ribs removed to slim and lift her waist as soon as she could afford the operations. However, despite the lack of functionality, she never wanted to have her cock and balls cut off as she would always think of herself as a sexy man in drag and loved the excitement of the transformation. Indeed, as soon as her drag show act finished, she would change into her male gear and her feminised male hairdo but leave her make-up on and go and chat up the guys at the bar. She said she felt better like that than she did in full female attire.
I thought that this was very weird but said nothing.
I slept with Angela and Sally went to the only spare room. I was exhausted but replete and slept at peace with my head hanging over the side of the bed to prevent my make-up being damaged too much as I knew I would be too tired in the morning to make a complete repair.
I was still working on my make-up repair when Mother arrived. Angela stopped her barging in on me and, instead, spent time explaining what had happened so that when Mother’s new daughter first walked into the room, she would be reconciled to the inevitability. Luckily she was, however, she was surprised to see the level of success in my transformation. So much so that she seemed to accept it as a “fait accompli” and wanted to gather all the information she could about how she could help to make it complete.
Angela told Mother that she should begin by choosing a name for her new daughter and that the choice was a mother’s as mothers never discuss the choice with their baby! Mother chose Rachael, which would not be my first choice, but was acceptable. Angela said that Mother should notify the school that I would be leaving at the end of the term to start work and, because that was only a week away, I would not be attending again.
Angela said that she would ask Sally to get me a job at the gay and lesbian bar at which Sally performed and that this would tide me over until I progressed with my transition to the point when I could get work elsewhere. She also gave mother the contact details of a doctor who was understanding about shemales and would prescribe hormones. We went home via the shops to purchase some more clothes for me and then had a ritual bonfire of everything male that I owned. I felt elated.
My new life then began. I took the maximum safe dose of hormones and within 3 months my figure started to improve. I spent long hours with Sally and her drag friends and learned much about the more extravagant part of womanhood and mother tempered that and brought me back to reality so that I did not become a man in drag but remained the woman I wanted to be.
Sally’s life seemed to go from one crisis to another. If she had a boyfriend she was on cloud nine but when they cheated on her, as they always did, she was despondent and it adversely affected her performance to the point that eventually she was sacked.
After a year on hormones, my body was becoming more acceptably feminine without the padding although, like Sally, my boobs were not big enough for my liking and my hips were still too slim. I needed to improve both. Also, I needed to find a way of making my Adam’s apple smaller and raising the pitch of my voice. I was shocked when I learned how much the surgery would cost and that was even before any work on my sexual appendages.
Another year went by with me saving everything I could. I was able to find a day job in a café that did not pay much but added to the money I earned at the bar and I got closer and closer to my goal. Finally, Mother said she would lend me the balance as she was now absolutely convinced that I was a girl and there would be no second thoughts from me.
The operations laid me up for several weeks during which time I could not attend either of my jobs so I was deemed to have sacked myself from both. I now had no money at all and would be in dire trouble if I had not been living at home with Mother. She was a brick and helped counsel me psychologically until I finally found a job as a check out girl at a local supermarket. I did look the part though, with my breasts straining inside my tight overall with the buttons undone at the front to revel my cleavage.
I started to go to the gay bar again but this time as a client. I rekindled old friendships with the artists, all of whom were impressed with my improved appearance. Some of the gay men made passes at me but I was not interested. However, I did strike up a relationship with one of the lesbians who was tall and powerful but not very pretty. We made love together almost every night for six months. However, I finally stopped the relationship when I just could not accept her total control of me in every respect. I wanted a fuller life.
What I did miss though was our loving and completely fulfilling sex together. She used to spend time kissing and caressing me until I was begging for more. She played with my boobs which had become the centre of my sexual arousal zone and then she licked the end of my cock at the fraenum as if it were my clitty while massaging my prostate with her finger or a vibrator until my cum poured forth. She wanted similar in return but only when I was finished and she never once asked me to penetrate her with my cock even on the rare occasions that it was stiff enough to do so.
After we had broken up, the only contact I had outside the gay club members was with the people at the check-out in the supermarket. One or two male customers made passes at me but I was not interested. That all changed though when Mother took me on holiday for a week in a cheap hotel in Spain. For this I had to have my passport changed and my name changed by deed poll. It was a nightmare.
Anyway, and to cut a long story short, I met Steve who was staying at the hotel and in a roundabout way discovered that he had been on an unsuccessful shopping expedition to Thailand where he was looking for a shemale wife. He said that he was not truly a homosexual but liked shemales because they were closer to what he felt ideal women should be but, more importantly, should feel and behave. Perhaps, larger than life women were his desire, having extravagant female looks but with male sexual thinking rather than female. I could not understand his thinking but let it go. He did not mind if his shemale still had a cock but ultimately he wanted his wife to want to have a vagina and a full female sexual life with him.
We talked and went out together on several occasions and, finally, I succumbed and let him take me to bed. He was a bit of a rough diamond but very kind. He wanted me to suck him then to let him fuck me but. he did not seem to care about me at all, except for squeezing my boobs a few times, mainly for his enjoyment, I think. I sucked his cock and we fucked and then he climbed off and left me finish myself off with a vibrator. Perhaps a servile Thai would think that to be a satisfactory relationship but I did not. What I did like, however, was the feel of a warm growing cock in my mouth and a satisfying ejaculation inside me when he came. It was not like having a hard-cold unyielding dildo and the thought of being taken by a man who wanted me as a woman was even better.
It was perhaps then that my psyche changed and I started to look at bulges in men’s pants. Who knows, but now I am positively looking for dates with men who will love me completely as the woman. I long to be loved and caressed by a man who will enjoy me as the complete woman I will become in six months’ time when I have my final operation.
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