|
New Girl in Town #8
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
Newsgroups: rec.arts.erotica
From: [email protected].org (Jon Grossberg)
Subject: Bobbi's Story (chapter 8)
Organization: Somewhere just far enough out of Toronto
Date: Wed, 6 May 1992 03:35:32 GMT
Approved: [email protected]
Message-ID: <[email protected]>
Sender: [email protected] (Evan Leibovitch)
Lines: 1020
Archive-Name: bobbi-08
(Note: the original author of these stories prefers to remain anonymous)
W H A T T H E D O C T O R O R D E R E D
It was morning, and I was awake in my bed. The alarm clock had not yet
gone off, but light was peeking in through the window. I stretched to
start to work the sleep from my body, and let memories of Alan from the
night before slide gently through my mind. If I could have had my way,
I would have turned over to nestle in his strong arms this morning, but
he was not lying next to me. He could not be. He was straight, and
thought me the same. He was not the sort of man who would have wil-
lingly woken up with a drag queen like me in his arms.
I glanced over at the clock, and saw that it was just before eight
o'clock. This was late for me to be getting up on a Wednesday morning,
but today was not an ordinary day. I had an appointment to see Dr.
Benjamin at ten-thirty to discuss the possibility of Sexual Reassign-
ment Surgery (SRS) for me. Today could finally start me on the way to
becoming what I really wanted to be; a woman!
I swung my legs off the bed, and sat up just as the alarm went off. I
stopped it, and heard the sounds of Margo puttering about in the kit-
chen making breakfast. I put a robe on over my nightie, and went to
join her. I could use some coffee right now.
Margo was sitting at the table drinking coffee and smoking a cigarette
when I got there. "Well," she said, "so you finally got up. I thought
you were going to sleep all day." I poured myself some coffee, and
answered, "No, I just took a day off from work. I thought I told you I
was seeing the doctor today?" "You did," she said. "I was just need-
ling you. You're going to see about getting your cock cut off. I
still say that you should think hard about that. I understand what you
want, but that's not as easy as it sounds." Margo and I had talked
about this before. "I know that it's not easy," I said, "but I have
thought about it. If nothing else, I have to talk to him to get more
information. He isn't going to do it today in his office, you know."
Margo got a concerned look on her face, and said, "I know that, but
it's just that... Well, I feel sort of responsible for you. I was the
one who got you out in drag in public. You have done very well on your
own up to now, and I just don't want to see you get hurt. That's all."
I had only rarely seen this side of Margo. I looked on her as a sort
of sister, but I was never sure how she really felt toward me. "I
know," I said, "and I appreciate that. I'll make you a deal. I will
not agree to surgery of any sort without talking it over with you
first. Okay?" That seemed to satisfy her for the moment, and the
conversation moved to other things.
"How did the interview go yesterday?," Margo asked. "Great!," I ans-
wered. "I got the job!" I'm just so excited about it. They're going
to be calling me in for test shots next week, and the studio I'm going
to be working for says they may have some other assignments for me
too." I did not tell her about the pornography yet. I wanted to see
what developed first. "Wonderful!," said Margo. "I hope it works out
for you. You've come a long way."
"Aren't you going to work?," I asked knowing that she was usually get-
ting dressed by now. "No," she answered, "I only got in about seven-
thirty. I called Joe, and told him I was sick. I'll have to blow him
twice this week to make up for it, but honey, this black stud that re-
amed out my ass with his cock all last night was worth it! Ten inches
of the hottest and hardest black meat that I have ever had!" We went
on talking about her stud.
"Well," I said at last, "I have to get ready for the doctor. Maybe
I'll see you when I get home?" Margo took a puff of her cigarette, and
said, "Yeah, I should be here. I'm just going to bed. I didn't get
much sleep last night." I smiled. "No, I guess you didn't," I said.
"I'm surprised you can sit from the way you're talking." "Well," said
Margo, "it ain't easy, honey! Did you get any yourself last night?" I
thought again about Alan, and said, "Why yes, I did. I met this cute
straight guy, so I told him I had my period, and could only suck him
off. It was very nice."
Margo got a very strange look on her face, and said, "A straight guy?
Honey, you better watch out about playing in that world until that doc-
tor does cut your dick off! You might get a guy who won't take kindly
to getting his pee-pee licked by what he considers a faggot!" She was
right. I had taken a chance with Alan, but it had been worth it. I
assured her that I would be careful. "Okay," she said, "I don't want
to see my little sister all beaten up or worse!" Margo went off to
bed, and I started to get ready for the doctor. Margo cared more than
I had thought.
I cleared the breakfast dishes, and went to the bathroom for a shower.
That only took a few minutes, and I was back in my bed room. I needed
to look as much like a real woman as possible today too, so I chose
what I would wear carefully. I dipped into my lingerie drawer, and
slid a pair of white satin panties with lace panels at the sides up
over my legs. I reached down, and pulled my penis back as far as it
would stretch into its tuck in my crotch. I did not want any bulges
showing.
I took out a matching white satin and lace push-up bra, and fitted my
tiny breasts into the cups for maximum effect. Then hooked a white
satin garter-belt around my waist, and attached a pair of sheer stock-
ings to it. I chose a dark green silk dress with a small yellow floral
pattern. The dress had short sleeves with only a slight scoop to the
neckline and back, and the skirt fell to just below my knees. I wanted
to look pretty, but not too sexy. Modestly, I put on a white satin
full-slip with lace trim under the dress.
I put on my green eye make-up, but used a bright shade of pink for my
nail polish and lipstick. The dress had a black patent leather belt,
so I wore my black patent leather pumps with the four inch heels, and a
black patent leather handbag.
It was almost quarter of ten by the time I was finished, so I took out
my black jacket, and headed out the door. My heels clicked happily on
the pavement as I walked up to 8th Avenue to find a taxi, but inside I
was nervous as a kitten. I was going, at last, to see the doctor about
completing my transformation from male to female, but that scared me.
It is bad enough to be in need of an operation to correct a medical
problem, but it is quite another thing to ask for one when you are
otherwise healthy. Surgery is frightening under the best of circum-
stances.
I did need this operation! I might not have a medical condition that
most people would recognize, but the disfigurement of that useless lump
of flesh between my legs was as real a medical condition to me as any
other. That is what most people fail to understand about transexuals.
We look on the body parts of the sex into which we are born as disfig-
uring. They are like ugly tumors that need to be removed to allow us
to feel comfortable with our bodies. If the people who criticize tran-
sexuals had a condition that they considered was making them appear
ugly, or in a manner in which they did not want to appear, they would
seek medical attention to have it corrected. It is no different with
transexuals. We do not feel comfortable with the condition of our
bodies, and simply want to correct it.
I hailed a taxi on 8th Avenue, and slid into the back seat. The driver
looked at me in his mirror, but my skirt was a little too long to give
him a show this time. I just told him where I wanted to go, and sat
back to compose myself as we rode. I tried to imagine what the doctor
would do today. I knew that he would not do any surgery, but what
would he do? I was sure that he would want to examine me, but how much
of an examination? What questions would he ask? How should I answer
them? Would he even agree to do the surgery at all?
There were no guarantees in this. Just because I wanted the operation
did not mean that the doctor would do it. I had heard about some girls
who had gone as far away as Morocco to have the surgery done when they
were turned down here. I could not afford to do that. I was not even
sure I could afford to have the operation done here. The doctor's of-
fice was near 70th Street off of Central Park West, so I had time to
think and worry about all of this. My nerves were all on edge when the
cab finally stopped.
I stood for a long moment in front of the door to the doctor's office
before I took a deep breath, and turned the knob. Inside it looked
like any other doctor's office. There were chairs, a potted plant or
two, and the obligatory piled of old magazines. A man and a woman oc-
cupied two of the chairs. They did not look like transexuals, but the
doctor's regular practice was in plastic surgery, so I assumed that
they were there for something involving that. I gave my name to the
receptionist, and took a seat.
I was only waiting for a few minutes when a nurse appeared at the door
to the inner office, and said, "Bobbi? Will you come with me?" I
stood, and followed her through the door. There was a long hallway in-
side with a number of examination rooms off it. She directed me into
one that had a desk and an examination table in it. There was also a
table full of medical equipment, and a changing screen in one corner.
"Sit down," she said, "and Dr. Benjamin will be with you soon." She
left, and I sat down to wait.
The wait was not long, but it seemed like hours. I must have read all
the diplomas on the wall a dozen times out of just sheer nervousness
before I heard the door to the office open, and someone come in. I
turned to see a late middle-aged man walking toward the desk. He was
not tall, was balding, and had a slight paunch around his mid-section,
but the grey around his temples, the strong features of his face, and
the air of authority about him made it appear that I could trust him
with my life. That was, after all, what I was about to do. "Bobbi?,"
he said extending his hand in greeting, "I'm Dr. Benjamin."
I shook his hand without standing up, and adjusted my skirt to get more
comfortable. Dr. Benjamin immediately made a note in my file after
shaking my hand, and then sat behind the desk to look me over. We sat
that way in silence for a few minutes while he seemed to be examining
me all over before he asked, "How long have you been living as a wo-
man?" I cleared my throat, and answered, "About three months." He
made a note in the file, and then asked, "How long have you been a
transvestite?" "About three and a half years," I replied, and this was
also noted in the file.
"Bobbi," Dr. Benjamin began, "what you are asking is not easy, but from
what I've seen so far of you, I think I can help you. I do not see
anything about you that tells me that you are not as you present your-
self. We need to do a lot more first, but we can proceed if you wish.
I assume you are ready?" My heart was pounding. Dr. Benjamin was ag-
reeing to get me started toward what I wanted. I could hardly believe
it! As calmly as I could, I answered, "Yes, doctor. I'm ready to
start."
Dr. Benjamin sat back in his chair, and said, "We have a great deal to
do, and you are going to have to trust me all the way through it. I'll
tell you anything you need to know about any of it, but you are going
to have to cooperate. You must do everything I tell you to do. Can
you do that?" "Yes," I answered. "Will you trust me?," he asked. "I
trust you," I replied. "I just said I'll do exactly what the doctor
ordered." I was on my way.
"Good," Dr. Benjamin said. "Then I need to examine you further. The
examination had to be very detailed and personal. Please stand up, and
walk around the office for me." I stood, and put my purse and jacket
on the other chair. I walked up and down the office, and did a couple
of modeling turns for the doctor while he made notes in my file.
"Please remove your dress and slip for me," he asked. This surprised
me a little, but the circumstances and the look on the doctor's face
kept the situation on a clinical level, and completely non-sexual. I
did as I was asked.
I stood before Dr. Benjamin in just bra, panties, garter-belt, stock-
ings, and heels, and he looked me over carefully making notes all the
time. He asked me to walk again for him, and after I had done so, he
said, "Go behind the screen, and take off all your clothes. Put on the
gown you'll find back there, and come out here." I did as I was told,
and soon I was completely naked except for my make-up and heels. I put
on the gown, and returned to Dr. Benjamin who was standing by the ex-
amination table.
"Please get up on the table, and put your feet in the stirrups," Dr.
Benjamin asked, but you'll have to take off your shoes." The stirrups
were little heel pockets on the ends of two metal arms that extended
from the lower corners of the table. I stepped out of my shoes, and
did as requested. The metal of the stirrups was a little cold, but
that discomfort did not last for long. I was in the same position as
any woman having a gynecological examination.
Dr. Benjamin pulled a stool over to the end of the table between my
legs. He sat on it, and said, "Now, I'm just going to have a look at a
few things. This isn't going to hurt." My penis had popped out of
it's tuck when I had spread my legs to get into the stirrups. Dr. Ben-
jamin took my penis between his fingers, and I could feel him stretch
it out even though I could not see him from the position I was in. He
turned it a few times, and then did the same with my scrotum and balls.
Normally when a man did that I would get sexually excited, but his
touch was very clinical. Even so, my penis moved a little at the
touch. I tried not to let it react too much.
I was glad when he stopped that part of the examination, and stood up.
He pulled back the gown, and went over the rest of my body paying some
particular attention to my tiny breasts. "Please stand up, and remove
the gown," he said. I was soon completely nude, and the doctor had me
walk for him again. I stopped, and stood naked in front of the desk
while he made even more notes in my file.
Dr. Benjamin looked over my nude body once again, and said, "Please put
the gown back on, and sit down." I did as he asked. The office was a
little chilly, and I was glad to have even the meager clothing of the
gown back on again. Dr. Benjamin continued making notes in the file as
I sat in front of his desk. I wondered what he had found in his exam-
ination, but I could not read what he was writing from where I sat. I
was excited over the prospect of getting this started, and I did not
want anything holding it back now.
At last Dr. Benjamin finished his notes. He sat back in his chair, and
said, "We have a lot to do here, but I see nothing that would prevent
us from going further. Despite your male sexual organs, your body has
a lot of female confirmation to it. The way you act, move, and look is
more like a woman than a man, and that tells me that you are in some
way serious about this. We will have to do a full physical work-up on
you, and my nurse will do that when we are finished here. There are
some other things we have to do too. I assume that you want to start
right away?" There was nothing else on my mind! "What do I have to
do?," I asked.
"Well, Bobbi," Dr. Benjamin began, "this is not a short process. It
will take two to three years to complete the program. Are you working
as a woman now?" I did not understand why he was asking this, but I
told him about my job as a stockboy at the department store, and about
the modeling job. He looked thoughtful for a moment.
Dr. Benjamin then gave me the whole story, saying, "We have both legal
and psychological requirements to consider along with the medical. The
law requires that you prove you can live as a woman before I can begin
any surgery. That means that you must both live and work as a woman
for one full year first. You will also have to undergo psychological
counseling all during that time. I have an associate, Dr. Stearns, who
is a psychologist, and works with me on cases like yours. I'll give
you his card. You should see him as soon as possible."
Dr. Benjamin gave me Dr. Stearns card, and then said, "You should also
have a lawyer. There will be things to do like legally changing your
name, and filing papers to attempt to change your sexual status legally
that you will need a lawyer to help you with. I can refer you to two
lawyers who have handled such things in the past for my patients. I
told you that this would not be easy. Do you still want to go on?"
I knew that the process of changing sex was complicated, but this was
the first time I had been confronted with all of it at once. It all
but overwhelmed me, but I was not turning back now. "I'll do whatever
I have to do," I replied.
"All right," Dr. Benjamin said. "Then the next step is for my nurse to
do the medical work-up on you. Fill out these forms, and I'll send her
in." I stopped him, and said, "Doctor, a friend of mine had you do
breast implants for her. Do I have to wait a year for that too?" "Who
was that"," he asked, and I told him that it was Tina.
"Tina was a different case from you," Dr. Benjamin said. "She didn't
want the whole program, and only asked about implants. I think I would
rather do something else for you. If you sign a consent form, we can
start you on hormone therapy today. The hormones will cause your nat-
ural breasts to develop, and let your body make some other changes.
You may, however, experience some dizziness a few hours after the shot,
you cannot drink alcohol for twenty-four hours after it, and you may
experience a lessened sexual desire and response. You will need one
injection a week for the foreseeable future. We would have to do this
anyway once we started the surgery, but the effects will reverse them-
selves if we stop, so we can start it now without any legal problems.
Do you want to start?" That was an easy question. "Yes!," I answered.
"You're almost too agreeable," he said with a laugh. "All right, after
we have your medical done, I'll calculate the dosage, and give you your
first shot. Then I'll have to see you each week for boosters." He
left the room, and I waited for the nurse.
A few minutes later, she arrived, and I was back on the examination
table getting my medical work-up done. She did it all, including blood
and urine samples, quickly, and then said, "You can get dressed now,
Miss," as she left. I had not expected to be addressed as "Miss" by
someone who had seen me as completely naked as the nurse had, but I
guessed that having done cases like mine before, she had said it as a
sort of reassuring courtesy. I know that hearing it pleased me a lot.
I dressed as fast as I could in my excitement, and awaited the doctor's
return.
Instead of the doctor, the nurse came back with a syringe. She rubbed
my arm with alcohol, and gave me the shot. I left the office, and made
an appointment with the receptionist for the following Wednesday eve-
ning to get my next shot. It would become a regular Wednesday ritual
from then on. I was on my way to becoming a woman in every way pos-
sible.
It was such a nice day when I got outside, that I decided to take a
walk in Central Park on the way home. I was in no hurry. It was al-
most noon, and Margo would still be asleep. I really had nothing else
to do today. I thought about going shopping. I really like doing that
when I have little else to do, but the weather was just too nice to be
inside on this early autumn day. It was too late to call Edith about
having lunch, so I settled for walking across the park to visit the
zoo.
The late September air was still tinged with the warmth of summer, so
it was pleasant to wander amid the trees and grass of Central Park
making my way to the zoo. It was also pleasant to feel the eyes of
some of the men that I passed upon me. I had tried not to dress too
sexy today because of my visit to the doctor, but I still drew my share
of looks and turned heads. I wondered what those men would say if they
knew that I had a penis tucked demurely away between my legs under my
skirt, but I also remembered that, with the help of Dr. Benjamin, I
would soon rectify that situation. I imagined that I could already
feel the hormone shot his nurse had given me working on changing my
body, but that would take a lot longer to do its job than the few min-
utes that had passed since I had it.
The zoo was its usual hub of activity when I arrived. I paused in
front of a number of cages to peer in at the inhabitants. I love ani-
mals, and I could not help thinking that I shared something with the
ones here in the zoo. They too were trapped in their cages much the
same way that I was trapped in this body. They could not change their
status, but I had now made a start at changing mine. That last thought
made me feel very goo inside.
I decided to buy a hot dog for lunch from one of the vendors, but as I
was fumbling in my purse for the money to pay him, I dropped my wallet
and some other things on the ground. I started to bend down to pick
then up, and found myself face to face with a policeman who was holding
out my wallet in his hand. "I believe this is your's, Miss?," he said
in a deep voice.
I took the wallet from him saying, "Uhh... Thank you, officer," as he
bent down to retrieve my compact and other things. "You have to be
careful with your wallet here. Thieves would consider a pretty girl
like you an easy mark," he said as he put my things in my hand. My
fingers brushed his as I took my compact from him. They were as strong
as the rest of him also appeared to be. He was in his mid-twenties,
about six feet four inches tall, and had broad muscular shoulders from
which his body tapered down through a taunt mid-section to a slim
waist. His bushy red hair topped a broad, handsome, Irish face that
was a pleasure to look up into. My little penis twitched a bit as I
just stood and stared.
"Yes," I said gaining a grip on the situation, "but that's why we
citizens have the strong arm of the law around to protect us." I was
flirting with him, and he picked right up on it. "Well, you know we
have to file a report on all incidents, so I'll have to ask you a few
questions," he said taking out his pad and pen. "Name?" I smiled
sweetly, and decided to play along. "Bobbi," I replied. "That's a
pretty name," he said. "Mine's Brian. Telephone number?" I thought
about holding back somehow on this, but the gaze of his deep green eyes
was hypnotic. I had given him my telephone number almost before I had
realized it.
"Well, Bobbi," he said as I took a bite of my hot dog, "that's all I
need for now, but I might have to call you for more information later."
I swallowed a bit of hot dog, and said, "You can call me anytime you
like, Officer Brian. It's a pleasure to be under your protection." I
was pushing it. Flirting shamelessly with a straight Irish cop was not
a good idea, but I was just feeling very playful. I guessed that I
could always just turn him down if he called me for a date. I just
enjoyed having the attention of a handsome man, and what girl would not
enjoy that?
We talked for a couple of minutes, and I told him about my aspirations
to a career as a dancer and a model. Then a couple of other policemen
appeared in the distance walking toward us. "Well," said Brian,
"that's my sergeant. I have to go back to the station, and go off
duty. I'll call you for that information, okay?" I smiled up at him
almost towering above me, and said, "Sure. Bye-bye!" I turned, and
walked away with a wiggle in my hips for his benefit. I was sure that
he was watching. I wondered if he would tell his sergeant, so he could
watch too.
I caught a cab outside of the zoo, and went home. Margo was still in
bed when I got there, so I just got a soda from the refrigerator, kic-
ked off my shoes, and settled down to watch a soap opera on the new
color television that Margo had bought. The hormones were already mak-
ing me tired.
Margo finally got up around three o'clock. She got a beer for herself,
and joined me in the living room. "How did it go with the doctor?,"
she asked as she set down her beer after a long first drink, and lit a
cigarette. "Pretty good," I answered. "He said that he would consider
me for surgery if I can pass all the legal and psychological tests, but
he agreed to start me on the hormones right away. I got my first shot
already." Margo looked a little concerned, and said, "Those things
will knock the hell out of you if you're not careful. I was on then
all last year, and they had me all messed up. That's why I have trou-
ble getting a hardon now."
I did not know Margo had taken hormones, so I asked, "What doctor did
you go to?" "Oh," she replied, "I didn't get them from a doctor. Jim-
my Treetops at the bar does it, and he only charges half what the doc-
tors do. A lot of the girls get them from him." Jimmy "Treetops" was
a guy who hung out at "The Gilded Grape" and some Gay bars in the area.
He got his nickname because he was about six feet eight inches tall.
He was some sort of medical technician at a hospital from which he
stole the drugs which he sold for extra income. I did not like him.
"Wouldn't it have been better to go to a real doctor?," I asked. "May-
be so," answered Margo taking another drink of her beer, "but I didn't.
Just be careful. I don't want you going out, and getting hurt." Margo
was getting back into her sisterly mood again. I rather liked her that
way. She always seemed so hard and tough all the time. It was nice to
know there was another side to her.
I did not tell Margo about Brian. After how she had admonished me this
morning about Alan, I did not want another lecture on the perils of
flirting with straight men. She was just about to say something when
the telephone rang. I got up to answer it, and a female voice on the
other end identified herself as Tom's secretary from the photography
studio. "We'd like to set up an appointment for you to come in for
test shots," she said. "I understand that you work full-time, so what
day would be good for you? We'd prefer not to do it in the evening."
I had just had my days off changed to Sunday and Monday, so I suggested
the next Monday. "That would be fine," the voice said. "Could you
make a 9:30AM appointment?" I said I could, and she ended the conver-
sation.
"What was that all about?," asked Margo as I returned to my chair. I
told her, and she said, "You sure are getting into a lot of things.
Don't go, and burn yourself out. Are you coming to the bar with me
tonight?" I was feeling very tired which I supposed was part of the
effect of the hormones doing their work. "No," I said with a sigh, "I
don't feel up to it tonight. I think I'll just stay here." Margo
looked at me with an indifferent look on her face, and said, "Suit
yourself. I'm going to take a shower."
Margo was just leaving the room when the telephone rang again. She
picked up the receiver, and said, "Hello?... Who?... Yes, she's here.
Just a minute." She held her hand over the mouthpiece, turned to me,
and said, "It's for you. Somebody named Peter?"
I sprang from my chair, and grabbed the telephone from Margo. She con-
tinued on her way to the shower, and I put the receiver to my ear nerv-
ously saying, "Hello?" A familiar voice came back, and said, "Bobbi?
Hi, doll! I told you I'd call. How are you doing?"
We chatted pleasantly about nothing for a minute or two, and then he
asked, "What are you doing Saturday night? I thought maybe we could
have dinner, and see a movie." That was what I had hoped he would say.
"Sure!," I replied trying not to appear too anxious. "I have to work
part of the day, but that isn't a problem. What time?" "Well," he
said, "what if I pick you up at six-thirty? We could have an early
dinner, and then go to a movie." I told him that it was fine with me,
and the date was made.
We talked for a minute or two more until at last he said, "I guess I
should get back to work here now, doll. I'll see you on Saturday at
six-thirty." "Okay," I said, "I'll be waiting. Bye-bye!"
Margo left for the bar around six o'clock. I told her about my date
with Peter, and she said, "Okay, sis. I get the message. I'll plan on
leaving the apartment to you that night, and sleep somewhere else." I
started to say that it was not necessary for her to do that, but she
said, "No, you need to be alone with your lover the first time." Then
she left. Deep down, I really wanted to be alone with Peter.
I changed into my warm flannel night gown and fuzzy robe and slippers
to curl up on the sofa to watch television. Lots of thoughts ran
through my head that night. I thought about Dr. Benjamin and what he
was about to do for me, but mostly I thought of Peter. I could hardly
wait for Saturday night.
Lunch with Edith the next day was a buzz of conversation. She wanted
to know all about what had happened with the doctor, and I was eager to
share all the details with her. She seemed fascinated with hearing all
the things that I would have to do on my way to becoming all the woman
that I could be, and would not let me leave out a single bit of the
story. Just before we left the Coffee Shop she said, "You have quite a
lot to do, but I want you to know that I'm here if you need me. Don't
be afraid to ask anything at all of me. That's what mothers are for."
I thanked her for that. I knew I would probably need some help from
her along the way, but I did not yet know how much help I would need
from her later.
Margo too had a little announcement of her own on Thursday night. I
was sitting in the living room while she was getting dressed to go to
"The Gilded Grape" as she did almost every night. She came into the
room, and said, "I won't be here when you come home tomorrow. Uncle
Charlie is taking me and Carol up to his place in Connecticut for the
weekend, and we won't be back until Sunday night, so you have the place
all to yourself all weekend. Have fun!"
Carol was another drag queen from the bar. She and Margo were drinking
buddies, and sometimes turned tricks together. Carol was also very
much into the B&D/S&M scene as a Drag Dominatrix. Uncle Charlie was a
man in his late forties who came to "The Gilded Grape" once in a while.
He had a big penthouse apartment with his wife in the City, and a se-
cluded "summer" home in Connecticut. He liked to take some of the
girls up there for all weekend fuck and suck outings. I think his wife
knew about it, but tolerated it to stay close to his money. She prob-
ably had her own group of studs to play with in the penthouse while he
was gone.
Friday was a quiet day at work, and promised to be a quiet night at
home too. I decided to go to the bar on my own that night after dance
class just to see what was happening, but when I got home the phone was
ringing. I hurried to answer it, and Paul's voice on the other end
said, "Bobbi? So there you are. I'm around the corner at the, err...
bar, and I was wondering if I could, err... see you tonight. My wife
went out for a while, so I, err... can't stay long. Could I, err...
come over?" I knew what he wanted to come over for, but I had agreed
to this sort of relationship, and he was entitled to "collect" for the
favor he had done me with the modeling job. I said yes.
I knew that Paul would not waste any time in getting here, so I had
only a few minutes to get ready for him. I went into my bedroom,
stripped completely, and turned down the bed. I grabbed a black lace
bra with matching garter-belt and panties, and put them on with the
garters under the panties, so the panties could come off without dis-
turbing the garter-belt. A pair of black, fishnet stockings and my
black patent leather pumps completed the outfit. I was just freshening
my make-up when the doorbell rang.
I buzzed Paul in, and waited for him to come up in the elevator. His
eyes got very wide when I opened the door for him in just my lingerie.
The door swung closed behind him as I put my arms around his neck, and
said, "I got the job! Thank you," and kissed him full on the lips.
His hands went right to my crotch, and started feeling about for my
little penis. I spread my legs to let him get a good feel of it, and
then led the way into the bedroom.
Paul was naked, except for his socks, in seconds, and I stepped out of
my panties without taking off anything else. We got onto the bed, and
again he reached for my penis to play with it. I did not really like
when he did that because I did not like to be reminded that I still had
a penis at times like these, but it gave him pleasure. I immediately
went down on him using all of my best blow-job techniques, but blow-
jobs were the only sort of sex that we had ever had together, and I
really wanted him to fuck me.
After a few minutes of sucking him, I lay on my back, and reached for
the Vaseline. Paul got a bright glint in his eyes, and moved to his
knees to get ready. I applied the lubricant to my ass, and slid a pil-
low under my hips to raise my bottom to receive him better. He mounted
me, and placed his prick at the opening of my anus. With one firm
thrust he buried his cock to the hilt deep into my waiting ass.
Paul might have left many other things to be desired in him, but Paul
could fuck! He started by ramming his hard and hot meat in and out of
me with all the power he could, and did not let up all the time he was
in me. It felt like I had a pile driver up my ass, but it felt good
too. He pinned me to the bed with his weight, and held my wrists down
all the time he fucked me.
Then Paul stiffened all over, took a deep gasp of air, and held it. I
felt his cock spasm inside of me, and the slow oozing flow of cum that
was his trademark filling up my bowels with his hot semen. He held
that way for a very long time gasping and moaning all the way through
it. At last I knew what it was like to be fucked by Paul, and I liked
what I was feeling. I wondered if he would always be in this sort of
rush when we had sex.
Paul had to get home to his wife, so he only spent a little while lying
in bed cuddling me, and playing with my penis after he had fucked me.
He went to the bathroom to clean his cock, and then dressed quickly.
We talked a little about the modeling job while he dressed, and I posed
in some sexy positions for him. He kissed me again on the way out, and
handed me a plain, white, sealed envelope. "Don't open it until I'm,
err... gone," he said. Then he left, and I stared at the envelope.
I put the envelope that Paul had given me on the coffee table, and went
to the bathroom to clean up. I was curious to know what was in it, but
Paul had filled me with quite a load of cum, and it was already seeping
out of my ass. I did not want any stains on the chairs. I let as much
of it drip out as I could while sitting on the toilet. Then a few
quick shots of douche up there with the enema ball, and a minute or two
more on the toilet finished the job. It was a technique that every
drag queen should learn early on. Good personal hygiene counts for a
lot, but even more preventative measures are necessary today. A quick
douche was enough in 1966, but I always carry a packet of condoms in my
purse now just in case the guy I am interested in has forgotten his.
It was only about nine o'clock, so there was still lots of time to pop
down to the bar for a quick drink, and some local gossip. I went to
the bedroom, and put my panties back on, re-hooking my garters and
stockings over them, so they were more comfortable. I dressed in a
plain black dress. Every woman still needs a "little black dress" in
her wardrobe. You can accessorize it in any way you like, and create
lots of different looks. I chose my favorite pearl jewelry with black
patent leather belt, purse, and pumps. Blue eye make-up and dark-red
lipstick topped off the look.
Then I remembered Paul's envelope, and sat in a living room chair to
open it. Inside was a typed note that read, "Bobbi, I do not know if I
will have the time to tell you this tonight, so this note should ex-
plain things. I have resigned my position at the department store, and
am taking a new job as Director of Personnel for a large soap manufac-
turing company on Park Avenue. I will have full charge of all person-
nel in their New York City offices. I start on Monday, so you will not
see me at the store anymore. The new job gives me a hefty raise in
pay, but is going to keep me very busy for a month or so. I will prob-
ably not be able to see you during that time. I will call you in a
week, and we can talk more then. Love, Paul. P.S.: Buy yourself some-
thing nice with what I enclose." In the envelope with the note were
five brand new twenty dollar bills. Paul had left me one-hundred
dollars.
A man is supposed to do nice things for his kept woman, but this was
more than nice. Back then, one-hundred dollars represented quite a bit
more money than it even does now. I guessed that he could afford it
with his new job. I knew then exactly what to do with it. I wrote
"Surgery Fund" on the envelope, and put it in the bottom of my lingerie
drawer. A week or so later, I opened a savings account at the bank
with the money, and kept the bank book with the note in the envelope.
I added more money to the account as time went on, but it was Paul's
contribution that had started it. After all, he had said to buy some-
thing nice with it. I could not think of anything nicer to buy than my
total femininity.
I went out to "The Gilded Grape" after putting away the money. The
place was in its usual Friday night flurry of activity. I ordered a
Gin and Tonic from Edie at the front bar, and then saw Patty sitting
alone at a table. I went over to her.
"I was wondering if you were going to be here tonight," Patty said as I
sat down. "You just missed Margo. She and Carol left with Uncle Char-
lie and his new chauffeur. You should see this one! He's an even big-
ger hunk than his last chauffeur. He looks like a bodybuilder." Uncle
Charlie had a reputation for his chauffeurs. He changed them about
every six months, and they were always hunky and Gay. Uncle Charlie
was into more than just drag queens.
"Yes," I replied. "They're all going up to his summer place for the
weekend." Patty lit a cigarette, and said, "Lucky ladies! Old Uncle
Charlie ain't much, but that chauffeur can park his boots under my bed
any time he wants. Toni was in earlier. She asked me to tell you that
there's a rehearsal on Tuesday at seven o'clock. She wants to do a
show next Saturday night. She's going to do a solo number in it too."
We talked about that for a while, and made a lot of other girl talk
too. A few of the guys eyed us up, and I probably could have turned a
couple of tricks for cash, bit I was just not in the mood for that. I
let one of them buy me a drink, and talked with him. Patty went to the
hotel with the other one, and made thirty dollars for it.
I finally went home about one o'clock in the morning. Maybe it was the
hormones, but I was feeling very tired. A lot had happened that week,
but what was really on my mind now was what was yet to come. My date
with Peter was just tomorrow night, and I dreamed of that as I slept.
Saturday morning came at last. The only problem was that I had to go
to work. My days off had changed to Sunday and Monday as of that week,
but that is the way it is in retail. I really wanted to spend the day
primping myself for Peter, but I got myself together to trudge off to
the store for a day in the stockroom. The store was busy that day, but
I floated through my work on a cloud. Edith was off on Saturdays, so I
just had lunch on my own in the store cafeteria. All I could think of
was Peter.
The store closed at three o'clock on Saturdays, and I hurried down to
be one of the first to punch out. I practically flew home, for I was
on such a high from thoughts of my date tonight that I'm sure my feet
did not even touch the ground. Once in the apartment, I immediately
got out of the male clothing that I loathed so much, and into my long
satin robe. That made me feel a lot better, and I sat for a while that
way in the living room before getting dressed.
There would be no quick shower for me today. This was a special day,
and demanded something equally special in the toilette department. I
had bought some strawberry scented bath oil, and treated myself to a
bubble bath with it. I stayed in the tub for a very long time just
letting the bubbles wash away the feelings of the previous part of the
day spent in my male job. I had to find a way to change that. After
all, that was what the doctor ordered.
It was almost five-thirty when I finally got out of the tub. Peter
would be here soon, so I had to get dressed. I had gone so far as to
buy new lingerie for tonight. There was a padded, pink, lace, push-up
bra with matching pink garter-belt, and pink lace panties. I slid on
my sheerest stockings, and did an all over spray of cologne before I
continued dressing. I dabbed some perfume of the same scent as the
cologne at the back of my knees before pulling my stockings up, and did
the same behind my ears, at my wrists, in my tiny bit of cleavage, and
on my thighs. I even put a naughty drop of perfume in my navel just to
be playful. Over all of this went a pink lace full-slip.
My dress was new too, and of a clingy, pale pink, jersey material. The
neckline was a deep enough "V" to show just a hint of cleavage, and the
back dipped to expose some of my shoulder blades. There were little
capped sleeves at the shoulders. The skirt was straight lined, and
came to just above my knees. The dress had a white patent leather
belt, and I had a white patent leather purse with white patent leather
pumps with four inch heels to go with it. Of course I also wore my
white pearls. By six-fifteen I was ready for Peter. I did not have
long to wait.
The doorbell rang about five minutes later, and very nervously, I ans-
wered it. "Hi, doll," came Peter's voice through the intercom from
downstairs, "are you ready?" That was a silly question, but a lady al-
ways keeps a man waiting just a little bit. I do not know why. Maybe
it keeps their interest up, but it is part of the game. "Almost," I
called back through the speaker, "so come on up, and we can leave in a
minute." I pushed the button to buzz him in.
I did not really have anything else to do to get ready, but there is a
sort of choreography to a date. A sort of mating dance that, if done
correctly, will give the highest level of satisfaction and enjoyment to
both of the dancing partners. This little sham of not being quite rea-
dy was one of the mandatory steps in the dance. I could not leave it
out no matter how anxious I was.
I used the time to pop back into my bedroom, and do a quick check to
make sure that everything was on correctly and straight. My heart be-
gan thumping again when the upstairs doorbell rang. Peter had arrived!
I checked one more time to be sure that my skirt was straight, and op-
ened the door. Peter looked so handsome standing there in his dark
blue sports jacket and grey slacks that I started thinking about for-
getting the date, and just falling into his arms. The twinkle in his
eye when he looked at me said very clearly that he was thinking the
same thing. That, however, was not one of the steps that was done at
this point in the mating dance. That was to be saved for the finale.
"You look great, doll!," Peter said exuberantly. "Shall we go?" I had
expected at least a kiss on the cheek in greeting after the passionate
scene that we had made at the apartment door the night he walked me
home, but Peter made no such move toward me. I had assumed that he
would have been anxious to hold me in his arms, and kiss me. Most wo-
men who look like I do have to fight off the attentions of their men,
but here was a man whose arms I wanted to be in, who appeared to be
holding back. Why?
I picked up my white lace shawl, and handed it to Peter. He put it
around me, and for just a second, rested his hands on my shoulders.
That felt very good, but did not last for long. Surely he knew that he
could have all of me that night. Why was he holding back?
There was a famous steak restaurant on 8th Avenue near 44th Street, and
Peter announced that we were going there for dinner. It was only three
blocks from where I lived, so we walked. Summer had just officially
ended, but the chill of Autumn had not yet found the air. It was plea-
sant to walk with my arm crooked in his. I still drew looks from all
the men we passed, but now these stares of lechery at me ended with a
look of envy toward Peter. They all were wishing that they were in his
place.
After dinner, Peter hailed a cab outside of restaurant, and we were off
to the Criterion Theater in Times Square to see a movie. I asked Peter
why he had gotten a taxi since the theater was only about five blocks
away, and it was no faster than walking with all the mid-town traffic
that we had to get through. "Well, doll," he said, " this is our first
real date, and I wanted it to be special for you." He made me feel
very good by saying that.
I really do not remember what movie was playing that night except that
it was some sort of love story. That suited my mood just fine. The
more time I spent with Peter, the more I became convinced that I was
falling in love with him. I cannot say exactly why I was feeling that
way. Peter was not all that different from any of a dozen men that I
knew, but there was something special about him. Maybe it was the lit-
tle things, like what he said to me in the taxi. I do not know. I
only know that was the way I was feeling, and I prayed he was feeling
the same about me.
I was still curious about why he was stalling about the physical affec-
tion from me that was his for the taking. No other man that I had ever
been with in an even remotely romantic or lustful situation had ever
held back. About half way through the movie I felt his arm around my
shoulders. I thought that things were about to heat up between us, but
that was as far as it went. Near the end of the movie he also started
holding my hand. Maybe he was just taking his time.
The show was over a little past eleven-thirty. Out on the street in
front of the theater Peter asked, "Would you like to go for a drink,
doll?" I grabbed my opportunity, and answered, "I'm a little tired of
that bar. Why don't we go back to my place, and have a nightcap the-
re?" "Suits me, doll," replied Peter, and he flagged down a cab which
soon deposited us back in front of the apartment building where I liv-
ed. I handed him my keys to get us in, and in a few minutes, we were
back in my living room.
"What can I get you for that drink?," I asked tossing my shawl over a
chair. "Scotch," Peter replied, "on the rocks." I got some ice from
the freezer, and made our drinks. I was not a big Scotch fan, so I had
my usual Gin and Tonic. Peter had taken a seat at one end of the sofa,
and after handing him his drink, I sat toward the other end. Since he
had held back from me all evening, he would have to work his way down
the couch if he wanted to get close to me now.
We tipped our glasses to each other acknowledging our first sips, and
then Peter said, "Over dinner, you said something about the doctor say-
ing you should have a lawyer as well. I take my bar exams in a month
or so. Maybe I could handle your case?" I had already thought of ask-
ing him about that, so I said, "I'd like that. The doctor said I nee-
ded a name and sexual status change. I'm not sure what that all me-
ans." "Well," said Peter, "the name change is easy. You are entitled,
under the law, to call yourself anything you wish as long as it is not
done with intent to defraud. By filing the papers, and going to court,
you demonstrate that there is no fraud involved, but a change of sexual
status is harder." I gave him a quizzical look, and asked, "Why?"
Peter took a sip of his drink, and said, "Well, doll, no matter how
pretty you look right now, your identification says 'male' on it. The
surgery that the doctor will do is legally regarded as only cosmetic.
In itself it imparts no change of sexual status. You could, as a legal
male, still be drafted, could only legally marry someone who was legal-
ly a female, could not get health or insurance benefits reserved for
females, could not legally use a Ladies Room, and might run afoul of
dozens of archaic little laws depending on where you are and what you
do. The State of New York does not recognize a legal change of sexual
status unless there is demonstrable medical proof that the person in-
volved is a hermaphrodite. It isn't easy, but the papers can be filed
in other places than New York. We'll take care of it when the time
comes."
"How do you know so much about it?," I asked. "Well, doll," Peter re-
plied, "my uncle who runs the law firm I'm with, makes a specialty of
these things. That's how I first found out about the bar where I met
you, but I never expected to find someone there that I wanted as much
as you." It was then that I realized that Peter had slid over to sit
next to me, and had his arm around me again. He did want me tonight.
Things began to happen very quickly now. I leaned my head back against
Peter's arm, and said, "Oh? How much do you want me?" Instantly his
lips were upon mine, and I needed no further answer to my question.
Peter's arms held me tightly. I responded by falling submissively limp
in his embrace, and parting my lips to allow his tongue access to mine.
His hands roamed down my body feeling for some of my most intimate
places through the material of my dress. If he had held things back
before, he was making up for lost time now. Peter looked me deep in
the eyes with that "little boy" look of his that I adored so much, and
said, "Let's make love." I had been aching to hear that all night, so
I replied, "Let me get comfortable."
I stood, and reached behind me to pull down the zipper at the back of
my dress. My little penis was pulsing with every beat of my heart as
the dress slipped from my body, and I stood before the man I loved in
just my new pink lingerie and heels, ready for him to take me as he
willed. I stood that way for only a short while to let him have a good
look, and then moved to sit in his lap. Peter's lips again pressed
upon mine, and his hands went back to caressing and feeling my body. I
could also feel his hard cock pressing into my bottom. "Let's go to
the bedroom," I whispered softly into his ear, and stood to lead the
way.
I turned down the bed, and lay upon it in the most provocative pose
that I could. Peter bent to kiss me, and then stood over me to disro-
be. There may have been lots of "little boy" qualities about him, but
beneath his clothes there lay a seething mass of manhood. Peter was
not a bodybuilder, but he must have worked out to have built a body
like the one he had. My little penis throbbed even more as he stripped
off his undershirt, and I got my first view of his muscular chest with
just a few dark, curly hairs between his smooth pectorals. Soon he was
left with only his briefs, and he lay down next to me on the bed.
Peter took me in his arms again, and we kissed deeply letting our ton-
gues play with each other through our parted lips. Then he reached
behind me to do what few of my lovers ever did, and unhooked my bra.
The bra slipped easily from me, and Peter moved to take one of the
nipples of my tiny, male breasts between his lips. He sucked gently on
it sending little shivers of delight all through me. My nipples have
always been sensitive, but lacking the bulging breasts of a real woman,
few of the men I had ever been with had availed themselves of that
pleasure. It felt wonderful when Peter did it.
Peter also unhooked my garter-belt, and took a moment to pull it and my
stockings down off my legs. "I like my women naked," he said lustfully
as he returned to nursing on my breasts, and feeling the rest of my
body with his hands. I wanted him, and he wanted me. It was my turn
next.
I kneeled over Peter, and stripped away his briefs. The sight that
greeted me was lovely. All eight inches of his circumcised cock was
looking up, and in its own way, smiling at me. I smiled back, and
placed a big, wet kiss right on its tip. Peter snuggled down on the
bed getting more comfortable as if in anticipation of what I was about
to do. I ringed the base of his cock with my index finger and thumb,
and began licking it from base to head like a child would do with a
lollipop. It tasted good, and Peter's moans of pleasure told me that
it must have felt good too. I kept it up for quite a long while, try-
ing to bring him all the pleasure I could.
Peter's balls tasted as good as his cock. I lapped at them with my
tongue, and tickled them with my fingers just for the sheer fun of at
last being able to play with them. I had wanted and dreamed about
Peter's cock, and what it was like for a very long time. I was going
to enjoy it all I could, and he seemed content to let me do all that I
wanted to do. What I wanted to do now was feel that cock in my mouth.
I opened my lips, and took just the head of it between them. I ran my
tongue all around it, savoring the feel of the glans. Besides being
long, Peter's cock was also thick, but just enough to make a good fit
with my lips. I pushed my head down, and took as much of it into my
mouth as I could until I felt it hit the back of my throat. I slowly
let it slide back out across my lips, and then plunged it back in again
as far as it would go. I kept this motion up, bobbing my head up and
down on Peter's cock, and going faster with each stroke as I did. My
hand was gently feeling his balls, and when I felt them throb and get
warm, I pulled back until only the head was in my mouth.
Just as I did, the first spurt of Peter's semen shot across my tongue,
and splashed against the back of my throat. That first spurt was fol-
lowed quickly by a second and a third, each one more copious that the
one before. The cum filled my mouth completely, and then stopped as
suddenly as it had begun. I held Peter's cock in my mouth for a moment
to be sure that he was finished, and then let it slip from my lips. I
rolled the load of cum around my mouth, tasting the flavor of the man I
loved, and then swallowed all of my treasure.
I lay next to Peter on my bed, and he took me in his arms again. He
kissed me deeply, and said, "I told you I liked my women naked." With
that, he slipped his fingers into the waistband of my panties, pulled
them down my legs, and tossed them aside. Now we were both totally
naked. That was the way Peter wanted it, and I would not deny him any-
thing he wanted that night.
Peter pressed his hand between my thighs, and with a bit of reluctance,
I spread my legs to allow him access to my crotch. He touched my lit-
tle penis, but instead of gripping it as some of my other lovers did,
he pressed it under his hand, and massaged the most sensitive spots
with just his middle finger like any man might do with a woman's clit.
I liked that, and I writhed around on the bed in my own spasms of
pleasure. After a few minutes of this, I reached down to find that
Peter's cock had regained its hardness.
Peter reached to the night table, and handed me the jar of Vaseline
that I kept there. He continued fingering me, and sucked some more on
my nipples while I got us lubricated for his next move.
Peter mounted me, and I barely had time to get a pillow under my hips
to elevate my bottom for him before I felt the head of his cock pres-
sing at my anus. I reached down to guide it to its target, and when I
had, I felt him push gently to pop the head past my sphincter. Slowly
Peter worked his cock all the way into me. I was spread almost to my
limit by the thickness of it, but that only made it feel all the bet-
ter. He drilled that big cock of his in and out of me in a slow but
sensuous manner, and our bellies robbing together om my own penis added
to the pleasure.
Then I felt Peter buck hard against me, and plunge his cock all the way
up my ass. My penis too matched each thrust with a twitch of its own.
A spreading, liquid warmth grew inside of me, and another wetness ap-
peared on my stomach as we both came together in a shuddering mutual
orgasm. Peter pressed his cock into me while the climax subsided, and
then collapsed with me pinned to the bed beneath him as we caught our
breath. That was just where I wanted to be.
Peter rolled off of me, and lay back on the bed. I hugged him, and
said, "I hope you're staying the night." He nodded, and I said, "I
don't have any night clothes for you, but I have a nightie I want to
wear." "That's fine," he said. "I usually sleep nude anyway." That
was just fine with me too.
I arose, and went to the bathroom to clean up, and returned with a warm
washcloth to do the same for Peter. I got out my new blue lace nigh-
tie. It was the same one that I had been admiring when I met Alan. I
had gone back to buy it a few days later, and I wanted to wear it for
Peter. I modeled it for his appreciative gaze before I lay back down
next to him.
"Peter," I asked as I lay in his arms, "why did you wait so long before
you kissed me tonight?" "Well, doll," he replied, "this was our first
real date, and I wanted you to know that you could be as coy as any
girl with me that way. A girl doesn't have to get sexual with a man
right away. She teases him along as he works at seducing her. I wan-
ted you to have that on your first real date, and it was more fun that
way for me too."
I kissed him for the pure joy of doing it, and to thank him for the
lesson he had taught me. I liked being seduced his way. I felt just
like the woman I was in his arms, and I loved him all the more for it.
We fell asleep with me cuddled close to him that way. I wanted to be
like this with him often. Peter was just what the doctor ordered!
--
Jon Grossberg - Internet: [email protected].org FidoNet: 1:107/565
--
Mail rec.arts.erotica submissions to [email protected].
Most software will automatically mail your postings to that address.
|
|
