Don's wife, Cynthia wants it all. Money and her new boyfriend. But her husband is in the way. And it is really True Love from Cynthia for Don! Lies lies and more lies, sinks Don's ship so to speak! This story could have a bunch of categories and keywords punched...but you have to figure out which ones in your head!

by Vickie Tern

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Authors foreword: Don't read this if you aren't legally entitled to read this. It contains explicit sex. Mostly right at the outset, and mostly gentle, but still, you aren't supposed to know about such things. There are characters who use obscene language too, nothing you haven't heard before, chances are, but nothing you're allowed to read here. Your parents and your legislators want their thoughts about you to remain pure.

If the events in this story seems to resemble events in the lives of anyone you know, I'm amazed by the coincidence. I'm also sure they would not appreciate your trumpeting that fact to the world.

I appreciate all kinds of comment: [email protected].
 

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Part 1.
 
 
We were screwing, as we often did mornings to take full advantage of my wake-up erections. She was mounted on my crotch and leaning back with her eyes shut, slowly rotating her pelvis on my cock, which had melted into something all hers, deep and warm and wet inside her. Heaven on earth, in our own bed.

I was on my back with my hands reaching out to mold and support her breasts, thumbs brushing casually against her distended nipples. She'd whimper now and then, and when I opened my eyes I'd see hers closed, her beautiful face concentrating on her body's sensations, that pert nose and delicate chin tilted high up, full brown hair tumbling everywhere as she tossed her head to and fro in a rhythm matched to her pelvic ecstasy.

This was our favorite position. Now and then she'd ask me to clamber up between her spread legs and ram her into the mattress, my weight crushing her and my own thrusting our dominating rhythm. But more often she preferred to kneel lightly over me, in complete control of her pleasures. Crouched down on her, I could brush my lips on her neck, and she'd invariably shiver. But while on top I couldn't comfortably caress her breasts, and as she once told me, she always felt pinned down. She didn't like feeling pinned down.

So she was above me with my penis deep inside her, revolving her crotch on mine, a dreamy half-smile fixed on her face. Twenty years married, kids all grown and gone, and still my heart melted to see that smile! I set up a delicate counter revolution that buried my shank far up into her to the root. Just delicious. I closed my eyes and sent my mind down into my crotch to live forever.

Still screwing slowly, she said in a preoccupied voice, as if in passing, "You know, I've been seeing another man."

"'Seeing'?" I opened my eyes. Nothing had changed. Hers were still closed. She was grinding down onto me as always. "What do you mean, 'seeing'?"

"You know. Like now. Fucking!"

"Another man? You're fucking another man?" She was still moving on me, rotating her pelvis, and my slick shank slid in and out of her as she rocked back and forth. I waited. She moaned, "Ahhh, darling!" Once, contented. Then more silence. "Why?"

She looked down on me gravely, then closed her eyes again and pushed. She seemed to smirk, but I realized it was only self-satisfaction, her extra pleasure as she ground her clit hard against my pelvic bone. "Honey, why does anyone fuck? Because I like it!"

She lifted herself up and thrust down, then up, then down, and let out a deep sigh. "Yesss," she hissed in confidence to herself. "I love it!" Then she leaned way forward on top of me, and the base of my cock pivoted against the inside of her mound, its underside now thrust against her wet, velvet vulva. Her hair fell over my face, and her eyes became dark smudges. I looked up into them. Her expression was no longer visible.

"Ohhh!" she said. "My tits! Caress my tits, you sweet man! Caress my nipples!" she whispered. "Kiss me! Push into me! More!"

I did all of those things.

"Don't worry, lover, I don't want to leave you! And I'm trying to arrange it so you won't want to leave me! You're everything I need and everything I want! Deeper, ohhhh, yes, deeper! Yessss!"

Now she was writhing on me, her hair waving back and forth over my face, her tension mounting, her buttocks heaving, my cock carried along inside her helplessly, working up and down and around it relentlessly, passionately, gloriously as my own exquisite sensations poised for their great leap and then overflowed, spurted, hurled themselves into her as she clenched and squeezed and clenched and shouted, "Ohhh, Yesss, Ohhh, Yesss, heavenly, ohhh, heavenly!" And then she collapsed on top of me, her face pressed against my face, arms squeezing my neck, her breasts squashed on mine.

I waited until I could find breath again. "Why, then, if I'm everything?" I asked.

"Everything is good," she said into my neck, muffled. "More of everything is better. Kiss me again, sweetheart!"

I did, but I couldn't believe we were having this conversation! It was unreal! Without thinking, I kissed her as so often before, so many times before when we had just made love and were feeling especially intimate. She kissed me back so very tenderly, as if my mouth were a rare jewel, then after a few more deep breaths she sat back up on me and looked down on me, altogether pleased with both of us. I stared back bewildered, my prick not yet soft, still crammed somewhere inside her.

"My precious!" she said to me. "My darling! I've wanted to tell you for so long now. And now I've told you. I'm so relieved! I've worried it might come between us, but now I feel so relieved!"

"What?" I said. I was dazed. Addled. What questions could I ask? What did I want to know? What not know? "For how long? Tell me again, Cynthia!"

Now she spoke more slowly, patiently, her hands stroking my chest, enjoying the feel of what little chest hair I had. "I've been seeing another man, honey. Fucking him. Rob, you know him, he's one of the younger men at your office. I've quit with my previous. His wife found out and stopped him from coming to see me. We're still friends and she feels sorry for me, but it's the same with them as it was with Bill and Helene, and before that with Scott and Francine. With practically all of our friends, really. The wives all feel sorry for me, but they won't share. Betsy was quite rude, in fact, telling me to keep away from Cal. Actually warned me to stay away! A shame, because Cal has the most beautiful cock I've seen anywhere. Any I've actually fucked, I mean. Even more beautiful than yours."

"You've been unfaithful to me? With other men?" I said it, and immediately could have bitten off my tongue. But I was baffled! "Why?"

Cynthia looked down on me, puzzled and a little annoyed. "I just told you, sweetie! Weren't you listening? I like to fuck! You know that! I love it with you! I adore it with you! But I like it with other men too! So I do it with others! Only one man at a time, of course. Besides you, I mean."

She looked down at me with real affection, and impulsively bent to kiss the tip of my nose. I didn't turn my head up to kiss her back.

"Aww, you're upset! Don't be, sweetheart!" She bent to kiss me again.

"Cynthia!" I tried to get a grip on this lunacy! She'd been sleeping with half the men we knew, and I never knew it, and she didn't seem to think there was anything wrong with it? Their wives felt sorry for her? How could I make sense of this conversation? I tried. My penis still snugged inside her was softening, a little, but it still felt good there. Without realizing it I pressed up against her to secure it inside for as long as possible. "My God, Cynthia! All those men? Our friends? Suppose I were to sleep with all of their wives! How would you like that?" This was the craziest conversation I had ever had! None of it was real!

"I wouldn't like it, lover! Because you're mine! All of that love juice inside you belongs inside me! And I want all of it! All the time! But the last few years, each year there's been less. You know! Some nights I'll climb on you, and there's nothing at all! That's all right, darling, we hug and smooch, and that's just wonderful. I love it, and I love you."

She leaned way over and kissed me again gently, with infinite care, on my lips, and seemed reluctant to stop. I couldn't help but kiss her back. Her mouth was so soft! My heart swelled with love for her, even though my stomach was sinking into the pits!

"But it's always so frustrating for me, those times when you can't get it up. So the next day I'd call up whoever I was seeing at the time, and I'd ask him to fuck my brains out that very day! And whoever it was, he'd try! He'd really try! Younger men can still really do it too, over and over! They remind me of you when you were younger, honey! They sometimes fuck me so hard I can't sit still or see straight for days!"

Her face was rapt with the memory. I tried to feel angry with her, but I couldn't, not from underneath her crotch, my pecker still plugged into her pussy and still holding back trickles and gouts of cum. I tried wriggling out from under, but I only got in deeper.

"Cynthia, that's not right! We're supposed to be faithful to each other! How could you?"

"Don, honey, don't be such a stick! You're my husband! I always prefer you! I always give you first crack at me, if you're able to do anything! Anything at all! Night or day! That's being faithful! And you're the only man I truly love, and the only man I ever will love the way I love you! That's being faithful! If I thought you'd take it this way, I'd never have told you! How can you say I'm not being faithful?"

She was genuinely hurt, not far from tears. I reached up to stroke her face. But I had to try again.

"Honey," I said. "If I could, if we didn't make love so frequently, or at least whenever I can, would you want me to go around sleeping with all those other wives? All of the women we know? I could do that, you know!"

"You're so sweet!" She was teased by the thought, and began to tickle my cheeks and the tip of my nose with the ends of her hair. "No you couldn't!"

"Why not?"

"Because you can't. Not when I'm done with you, you can't." She hesitated. "And also because they know you can't!"

"What?" I was speechless again.

"You may as well get used to the idea, honey. None of the women we know will get into bed with you. They think that you're impotent. They think they know you're impotent. We've all talked about it. I've explained to their husbands why I find fucking them so delicious. Because you can't satisfy me. And sooner or later they tell their wives about me, and the wives tell each other. Everyone knows I'm looking around because you don't perform, sweetie!"

I was silent at this. "That's why they feel sorry for you?" I asked finally.

Cynthia didn't seem to hear me. "Marge, she's a psychologist, remember, she thinks its your gender confusion that causes it. It's been a long time since I told them about how you were wearing my panties. I'm sure that by now they all assume you wear my other clothes too. That you want to be a girl. Marge thinks so. She has all kinds of theories about it, but mainly she thinks it's kind of sweet. Nearly everyone else does too."

"You told them I wear your panties?! When? Whatever for? What else did you tell them?!"

"Oh, a few more things. But why are you so upset? That was years ago! A couple of years, anyhow!"

"Years?!" The wives thought they knew, and so did the husbands. I tried to remember if Bill had been simpering or leering at me in the past few months. But nothing came to mind. Anything when we changed clothes for raquetball at the Club, or changed back again? Did he check out my midriff after a shower? Nothing. But I wouldn't have noticed. Who thinks about such things? "What few more things did you tell them?!"

"Oh, a few more. I see no reason to upset you any more than you are right now. We'll discuss this another time."

I calmed down as quickly as I could. "Cynthia," I said in as measured a tone as I could manage. "I'm not upset. Just curious. Why did you tell them I wear your panties? What was the occasion?"

She looked at me with her eyes wide open. Here it comes, I thought. Cynthia was a youngest child, her daddy's little girl, and the ways she'd twisted him to gratify her whims and avoid punishment all through her growing up had carried over into our marriage. I always thought they were cute when she tried them out on me. I never failed to melt when I was on their receiving end. That darling little girl simplicity she could call on any time was one of the many reasons I loved her.

"Why, Marge saw your panties, honey, that time we were all together at that resort hotel. You and the boys were out playing golf while the girls stayed back and did the laundry and gossiped. A whole week's worth! Remember? All mixed together by the time we were through! Then when we all had to sort out each other's things, Marge picked up some of your panties, and I had to claim them."

"Marge?" My voice rose and cracked, and I must have sounded a little frantic, because Cynthia began looking at me closely, those big beautiful eyes fixed on mine. My cock was soft, but still tucked into her. Would it toughen up again? That hadn't happened for a few years!

I resumed control. "Cynthia, I don't wear your panties."

I was trying to be calm and reasonable and matter-of fact, but all sorts of thoughts tumbled through my head. Marge was there, and Chelsea, Eric's Chelsea. Cathy too. All the couples of our bridge-playing set -- that's what we were there to do, golf and play bridge. And to do laundry too, apparently. And to do me, to undo my reputation. "Why did she think I wore your panties? I don't wear your panties!"

"But you do, sweetheart," she said, still wide-eyed, a reassuring smile beginning to brighten her face. "Hanes Her Way cotton Hi-Leg panties, the same ones I used to wear before you asked me to get sexier down there, and I stocked up on those lacy things you love seeing draped across my ass cheeks and caught tight in my pussy. Remember when you asked me? I thought they were silly, but now I love them. Most men get hard the moment they see me in them!"

She leaned back, then forward, and then she pust have clenched a pussy muscle, because I felt my penis lurch a little. It was returning to life!

She felt it too. "See, even you, just from imagining me in them! You wear some other brands too. I gave all my old cotton panties to you. You never noticed? All those briefs you like to wear, you never noticed that none of them have flies, the way men's briefs do? That there's double fabric too far down in the crotch to do a man much good? Where women get moist?" She wiggled a little.

"No," I said. The mystery was clearing a little, leaving only my reputation among friends murky.

"Well, whenever they came out of the dryer I had to reclaim them, and then the girls got a little silly, and whenever my lacy things were peeled off the pile they'd say 'Here, this must be Don's too,' and we'd laugh and giggle. I'm sure they think we share everything."

"Why didn't you explain to them?"

"Honey, why should I? I could see their attitudes toward you changing, right before my eyes! Some of them used to think you were quite handsome and attractive. They'd tell me so, with that look in their eyes, you know? So I thought, let them think what they think! Then they won't try to take what's mine! Try to play up to you, and maybe cheat me out of one of those moments when you're up and ready for action!"

Again I was silent.

"I didn't lie. Chelsea said she'd love to see you in those frothy tap pants you got me for my birthday, the ones that make you feel so...loving, whenever you see me in them? I told her you'd bought them yourself in Victoria's Secret and that you just love them. They were impressed. In fact they were quiet until Marge asked out of the blue, 'Are his brassieres from Victoria's Secret too? Does he wear a slip?' They're such teases! They were disappointed when I told them no, no slip. But they felt better when I showed them the two brassieres I bought that time you were a little tipsy and nuzzling me and said you wished I wore lower necklines with more cleavage. Remember? I held them up and I said, 'Don wanted these bras, so I got them for him. He loves seeing cleavage when we dress to go out.'"

"Well, sweetie, then they were really impressed! They all started talking at once. 'You two dress to go out? Together? Like that? The same way? My Ellis would never ever! But when you go out, Cynthia, where do you go? What do you do? How does he look?' So I told them usually we go out dancing, but first to a nice restaurant, and after a few drinks and a bottle of wine and a good dinner we feel just lovely, and you look so very lovely at least to me, so we go some place where there's an orchestra and we dance. At first we dance together, I told them, but men begin to cut in to dance with me, so I tell you to go find your own partners. And you do. Like at Joyce and Tim's daughter's wedding, you remember? There are always plenty of singles to dance with. So we may not even see each other for much of the evening. It's so very Romantic!"

"Well, now the girls are sort of solemn. Gail -- she was there too, you remember, your boss's wife, she took over the conversation and everyone else just listened. She got real interested! She asked me if we always leave together after a date like that. I had to tell her 'Not always,' because there was that time we were out with your cousin and his wife, and we got tired, you remember, and you two wanted to see the end of some basketball game on the tube, so you came home later, remember?"

"'One of you uses a hotel room on those occasions?' she asks, and I told her we both do sometimes. It depends on how late it is, and how far we're willing to go for a good time. I mentioned that you're always more eager to spend the night in a hotel than I am. And it's true! You never want to drive back home when we've both had a lot to drink. Isn't that true?"

"Well, when we were going upstairs, Gail told me confidentially that she didn't know we were into kinky things, and that she hoped we'd both come to a dressup dinner for some selected friends some time when she could arrange it. She told me that Geoffrey, your boss, that he looked smashing in a wig and a long gown, and she was anxious to see how you looked. She asked me who does your hair, and I had to tell her you did, when it wasn't mussed, which it is much of the time given the way you get when you're really into things. She said she could understand that, you being a hands on kind of person, and I certainly had to agree to that."

Cynthia smiled to herself and wriggled her bottom into my groin. There was no doubt about it. I was getting harder. She picked up my hands and placed them on her breasts. "Caress me again, lover!" she whispered confidentially. I did just that.

"Well, we've talked about it now and then since that time, all of us, they like to tease me by offering you their dresses and things. Whenever you compliment them on something they're wearing -- and you often do, Don, you're such a gentleman! -- they can't wait to get to the Ladies' with the rest of us and giggle about it, how you'd love for me to buy you the same thing for your next birthday. Mmmmmmmmmm! More!"

I was fully hard again. Cynthia lifted and lowered herself just to make sure, then began plunging at me. That delicious feeling returned to my loins. I flicked her nipples gently in response. She leaned forward and kissed me with passionate intensity.

"Oooh, I do love you, sweetheart! Never doubt it! This kind of talk turns you on, doesn't it? I'll have to remember that! Then last week it was Gail's turn to warn me away from Geoffrey. She understood, she felt sorry for me and all that, she knows how different men have their compulsions, but she wasn't going to tolerate my affair with him. She told me confidentially that he wasn't that much of a lover anyhow, and I had to agree with her, and we got to be quite friendly, gal to gal, comparing notes. She's been around the block a few times too. I told her that Rob had been coming on to me, and she encouraged me to go for it. So that's what I did. And she encouraged me to tell you all about it, that it wasn't fair you were the only one who didn't know what everyone else knows. Or thinks they know. That's why I'm telling you now."

"Oh?" I said. I was feeling a little bitter, but Cynthia had begun to corkscrew her sweet, soft, moist quim into me, and I was having trouble thinking. I kept stroking and cupping her breasts without even realizing it.

"Also because you have to know, now. She's invited us to her house. It's tonight. A dinner party, it's supposed to be a surprise, something about a promotion for you, honey. It must be some kind of costume occasion, formal, because she said we both should wear long gowns and put our hair up properly, and all. That Geoffrey was looking forward to meeting you looking beautiful, the way he'll be dressed. She said you wouldn't regret it."

She was silent for a while, rotating slowly, then faster. Everything became more intense, much more concentrated! When she finally leaned forward to climb higher into the sublime, her ass was in a whirl, frenzied! I had no idea where in all that glorious energy and sensation my cock might be, until we both exploded, shrieking. Both of us! Pure joy!"

When she could breathe again, she continued. "There! Now you're well- drained! No danger now that some other woman'll carry you off and use you. Not until tomorrow the earliest, I know you! Not until the middle of next week. But by then you'll be all mine, I hope, and nobody else's ever!"

She leaned way forward to nuzzle me. I felt numb. I couldn't think. Dinner at my boss's was a rare honor. I'd been only once before, years ago. But wearing a dress?

"I can't do it, Cynthia," I said, torn between regret and fear. "I'd be ridiculous. I'll wear my dinner jacket! Or you'll have to go without me and make my excuses. I can't go dressed like you! Like a woman! I'm a man!"

"You don't have to tell me that, lover! Not right now you don't." Her mouth smiled, lips closed, as if savoring the memory of honey. My prick softened and slithered out, and then cum poured out of her slit and soaked both our crotches. It lubricated the inside of her thighs, and she began rubbing them absent-mindedy on my hips.

She pulled back her gorgeous long brown hair, so it streamed onto her back and shoulders, some strands still sticking onto her skin with perspiration. Still as beautiful as ever, my wife, but what had she done to me? To my reputation? She leaned forward again, but this time she took my head in both her hands before continuing, and stared straight into my eyes, and spoke with intense earnestness.

"You don't have a choice, sweetheart. Don't worry. Tonight you'll only look the way everyone expects you to look. They've known about you for years, remember! Or they think they do. If that's how your boss means to dress, then that's how you'll have to dress too. Or think how embarrassed he'll feel! Gail tells me she's really curious to see how lovely you can look when you're really done up properly! I've boasted about you to her. In fact, she recommended two hotel rooms for later tonight, for us each to stay in after the party. 'Rob will be there,' she said. 'And maybe Don is impotent, but if he's as pretty as you say I'm sure he has some uses still.' I couldn't disagree, whatever it is she has in mind. What do you think?"

I couldn't say. I couldn't say anything.

"It's time you were wearing frillier underwear anyhow," she said. "Just leave everything to me. I've already made the appointments for your hair and nails, and I've already bought you your dress. Slinky satin, like that pale blue gown you told Chelsea you so admired on her. Only yours is cream, with white beading, because you're still a virgin, aren't you, so you can wear white, can't you? As a woman, I mean! Don't worry a bit. You have clear features, and you're not too large. You'll be gorgeous!"

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Part 2.
 
 
I went. Dressed the way women dress. And there followed the worst time of my life, followed by the most confusing, though with compensations I have to confess. Followed by I don't know what, now.

I couldn't believe what cosmetics can do to a man's face when applied by a professional. And that gown was stunning, just as I'd told Chelsea. I did look gorgeous when we mounted the boss's steps and rang the bell. Their butler let us in, perfectly straight-faced, and announced us to everyone assembled.

"Mrs. Donald Ames, and Miss Donna Ames!" he intoned.

Who told him that? As we walked through the doorway and I stumbled down the two steps into Geoffrey and Gail's huge living room, tripped up by my four inch high-heeled evening slippers, but supported on Cynthia's arm as if she were the man and I was the frail woman. Then when I looked up, there was everyone we knew! Standing assembled and facing us! Our entire golf and bridge crowd! The women were in long gowns with their hair piled high up, like mine and Cynthia's, their faces painted sloe-eyed and shadowed and blushed, with their lips bright red, like mine and Cynthia's. We were all gorgeous!

But the men were all wearing ordinary dinner jackets and black ties! The kind of evening wear I'd have worn if Cynthia hadn't told me I had to do it her way. Geoffrey too! No sign of a gown anywhere near him! His dinner jacket was elegantly cut, an Armani, no doubt about it! Decisively, menswear! Only the women were wearing gowns!

And me!

I wanted to die! I tried to shrink into the woodwork. But everyone was standing and looking straight at us, and applauding! Applauding! I stared wide-eyed, and couldn't move.

Geoffrey stepped forward.

"Cynthia and Donna, welcome!" he said in a loud voice. He was delivering a speech, and he expected everyone to listen. "This is an auspicious occasion! For two reasons!"

He turned to Cynthia. "Cynthia, you are one of the bravest women I have ever known. Ever since last week, when you first told Gail that your husband was...ahhh... less of a man and ... ummm... much more of a woman than any of us had previously ever dreamed or suspected, and Gail told me, and told me that now finally you wanted everyone to know, our hearts have gone out to you! You've suffered much, endured much in silence. But I want you to know that we respect you and we love you. There is no stigma attached to your husband's decision to live the rest of his life as a woman. His need to be a woman. To be born transsexual is to endure much, but we are all agreed that it is no disability, and should suffer no penalties. Many men feel a need to cross-dress. But we are awestruck with admiration, Cynthia, that when your husband informed you he wanted to go all the way only a few weeks ago, you decided to stay with him if he'd have you, to preserve your family identity and to maintain the home you two have shared together for so many years."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing, and I replayed the words repeatedly in my head. They came out the same each time.

"Hold your purse at waist level, sweetheart," Cynthia whispered to me. "It's a clutch purse, remember. And keep your elbows close to your sides. And turn one toe out just a bit. It's much more ladylike. You see, over there they're taking pictures of us for the company newsletter, so you'll want to look your best."

My boss turned to me. Now he was holding a champagne flute. So was everyone, I saw. Some were smiling and some were smirking, but everyone had a glass in hand.

"And Donna," he declared. "What can I say? Despite a lifetime of conflict, of anxiety, of struggle against your own nature, of shameful secrecy, at last you've found the courage to be yourself! To live according to your nature, as the woman you know you are, whatever narrow-minded people may think. Your work for all of us, for the Company, for all these years, well, it's been superlative, despite what must have been the distractions, the heartaches of your own divided soul. Just in the past few months you've closed three contracts making up almost a third of our corporate profits for the year! Amazing!"

"Well, even before Cynthia's revelation to us of your true nature, I've been looking for some way to reward such skill, such intelligence, and dedication, and devotion to our common purposes. But I could find nothing really suitable, because as you know, the Board has obliged us to make the next promotions to Corporate Vice President from the ranks of our minority and women employees. And you were neither. Or so it seemed."

"But now we all know better. Our medical and our legal staffs have agreed that you now meet the statutory requirements for promotion, that your plans for sex reassignment surgery -- Cynthia told us about them just this afternoon -- remove any lingering doubt. You're already a lovely woman in your spirit and appearance, and soon you'll also be a lovely woman in all other respects!"

"So Don, farewell! You've been a splendid employee and friend, and we shall miss you. Donna, welcome! Your new office as Vice President for Special Projects will be ready for you when you come to work Monday morning, decorated in a delightfully feminine style, I must say, just as Cynthia and Gail proposed. Because you are the first woman to break through our glass ceiling, an example for all the others we hope will follow! And we share your belief that a woman executive should never hide the fact that she is first of all a woman, even if an utterly feminine kind of woman. Because that way she can prove daily that women can be as effective in business as anyone else, without ceasing to be women! I've told our Board Chairman about this conviction of yours, and he was impressed! He called it forward-looking, evidence of the kind of independent thinking we need to encourage!"

"Moreover, because you deserve it, and also -- I must confess with pride -- to boost our statistics for salaries paid to women employees to the highest in the industry, I'm pleased to announce that the Board has agreed to double your salary and include in it a generous package of stock options. We do reward merit, and we value our valuable employees!"

The boss smiled his most egregious smile. "In conclusion, Donna, I propose a toast. To your newly acknowledged femininity, to the woman you will soon become in body as well as soul, and to our new Corporate Vice President. Donna, I know you won't disappoint us! Welcome!"

Everyone raised their glasses and repeated "Welcome!", and drained them. Then the men, most of them, headed to the bar set up in the foyer for refills or stronger stuff, while the women crowded around me, buzzing and laughing and asking all sorts of questions. "Don't blow it, Donna," Cynthia muttered to me sotto voce. "You know now what's at stake, don't you! Just talk in a high voice, and be pleasant, and try to move with grace, and the whole world is yours! You do deserve it, you know. And this is the only way you're ever going to get it! So accept it, and wait, and I'll explain everything later."

I did. The wives who welcomed me most enthusiastically, I noticed, were the ones Cynthia'd mentioned felt sorry for her, with husbands Cynthia'd slept with. I suppose for them this was a confirmation of sorts, that what Cynthia had told them about my impotence had to be true, that their sympathy wasn't misplaced. Several times various women brought me more champagne as we laughed and chatted and I tried to giggle with them. When I seemed all right, Cynthia began drifting away. Soon she was surrounded by a group of men, all her old lovers I supposed, sparkling and scintillating. I tried to imitate some of her gestures, but decided it would take far more practice. Just try to get through this evening, I said to myself, then get some explanations and decide what to do.

At dinner I was seated between two men, of course. One of them was an elderly bore who sat on the Board and kept realizing and then forgetting that I was the guest of honor. He never did forget to stare down the front of my dress, however, at the two modest mounds of flesh Cynthia had coaxed into visibility with a cunningly designed push-up bra. The other was a hotshot young market analyst on the company's fast-track. He tried and failed several times to find something complimentary to say to me, and when he saw his innuendoes were increasingly resented he turned to entertain someone's simple-minded spouse on his other side. I don't remember swallowing anything on my plate.

Later, when a small orchestra began playing slow music in an alcove, I saw Cynthia dancing with Rob. They were terribly close. She was clasping the back of his neck with both hands, and I saw her pull his head down and kiss him. Her kiss had the same devoted intensity I'd felt when she'd kissed me only that morning, when she'd successfully re-aroused my cock. I was everything to her, she'd assured me then. Never doubt it. So could I doubt it?

As the crowd began to thin, Gail came up and seized my arm. "Donna honey! Come over here and sit down! We must talk!" She dragged me to a far corner and planted me in a huge, soft chair, so we were scarcely visible to anyone else in the room.

"Of course, Gail," I said in my flutey voice. "I'd love to!"

"Don't give me that high-pitched 'I'd love to' crap, Don," she said. "What you'd love is to murder someone, wouldn't you? I would, if I were wearing your high heels right now! Because I know what's going on here, and you obviously don't."

A voice from the real world! At last!

"What's going on here, Gail?" All of a sudden I was all business.

She heard the steel in my voice and smiled. "Well, Donna honey, maybe you're worth that Vice Presidency after all. I've always thought you were a wimp, even though Geoffrey told me you've done some amazing things with customers on no notice at all. That you're really quick off the mark. Sort of like your act tonight! You've almost had me convinced that you really are a transsexual, a real wannabe woman, quite a few times. And I know that it's all improvised on the spot, too! Not that any of that matters any more. You're in! That's what you are now, or will be soon enough, a woman, wannabe or don't wannabe."

"What's going on here, Gail," I repeated a second time, this time laying my long, red-manicured fingers lightly on her sleeve. She looked down at her arm, then up at me.

"When men touch each other, honey, it's often by way of a threat, unless they're gay," she said quietly. "When women touch each other it's by way of sociability, to reassure each other. I hope you know the difference, Donna honey. Because Donna honey, from now on, this is your life! So begin to live it!"

"Please?" I said, my voice softer. I looked pleadingly at her. She looked back at me and took pity.

"OK!" She took a deep breath. "I've been hearing about how your wife has fucked her way through the staff for two years now," she said. "Maybe more. She's very clever! And I've seen what a loyal employee you've been the whole time, working hard, nose to the grindstone, shoulder to the wheel, all those inspirational cliches, never noticing any of it. The old story, the slut wife with the workaholic husband who's always the last to know."

"But I've also seen the two of you together. You make a good couple. You're both obviously deeply in love with each other. And she certainly cares for you! So why does she sleep around? Obviously, it's got to be she's oversexed and you're undersexed, and never the twain shall meet except maybe on weekends. Isn't that right?"

"Some weekdays too," I said, a little hurt. Though not for some time though, I realized. My manhood was being challenged here. I looked at my ruby-tipped fingers. What manhood? "Now and then," I added in a weak voice.

"Well, honey, that's what changes in your life from now on. No more now and then. No more weekends. No more dipping your cock into anyone's pussy ever again! Did you know that?"

"No." I drew myself up. My silicone breast forms were tugging on my bra straps anyhow. "Why do you say that?"

"Why sweetheart, I thought you were quicker on the uptake than that! Didn't you hear Geoffrey's speech? No, probably not, who listens to that windbag? Honeybunch, in a little while longer, no more fucking! Not for you! Not the way men fuck! Hormones will soon wither that stem of yours like a tropical plant in a drought, and then surgery will turn it inside out into a cunt. What's been into cunts becomes a cunt! What fucked gets fucked. There's a sort of poetic justice there, don't you think?"

"Don't look so solemn! There'll be compensations, of course. For one thing, you'll have gorgeous tits, really big ones, guaranteed, with a little prosthetic assistance if you can't grow them full size by yourself. Cynthia tells me you're a tit man. Well, by this time next year you'll be a tit lady! Men will fall all over you, and you'll have your pick. That is, if you at all incline toward men when the hormones have softened you up a little. Some do, some don't, I hear. And you'll have the prettiest, most feminine office on either coast to work in. I've seen it! Anyone who spends an hour in that decor will feel he has to start flouncing around, man or woman. After two days there you may well feel starved for a cock to suck on!"

"Gail," I said, looking her in the eye, trying to regain the high ground, "I don't have to do any of this. I don't know why Cynthia's set me up this way, or where you fit in, but any time after tonight I can walk away. And I mean to. This is humiliating!"

Now Gail put her hands on my arms. Her nails were manicured a different shade, but they were equally beautiful. "Honey, just listen! Walk away from a six-figure salary plus bonuses? Walk away from Beach Resorts and Yachts and the Smart Set and the Good Life? Walk away from finally telling other people how to run things, instead of feeling forced to run things the wrong way? Maybe. But you wouldn't get very far. Not in jail you wouldn't!"

"Because the company would have to bring an action against you for fraud, for misrepresenting your gender and tricking us into misrepresenting statistics for women's salaries to the federal government, for tricking us into promoting you contrary to company policies and commitments, and into paying you for services never rendered. For setting up an elaborate con game. We can prove to any jury that you schemed this with your wife for months. That she's guilty too, and also deserves jail."

She smiled a wicked smile. Conspiratorial, too. "And need I point out that anyone in jail for a scam like this one will end up a woman anyhow, a whore servicing the other inmates? Without getting to wear designer dresses like the one you have on right now? It's just lovely, Donna, incidentally! Really becoming!"

She paused. "And even if the company let you off the hook, consider your reputation from now on. The way you look tonight is your social and corporate identity from here on in. From now on, whenever you're seen wearing men's clothes, you'll seem to be wearing drag! You'll be the dickless, effeminate loser whose wife is on the make for anything in pants!"

I just listened, my head a little lower when she finished talking. She seemed almost sympathetic. Her comment about my gown was obviously intended to cheer me up!

"Please," I said, now much more humbly. "Please, Gail. I don't know what to do. Tell me what's going on."

"Honeybun, live with it. You're fucked! You always will be! I didn't believe it when your wife was dancing in and out of the bedsheets with different men, telling them you're impotent, that you can't get it up, or can't get it up often enough. It's a good ploy. It enlivens her partners' interest and relieves their guilt, because some of them are good friends of yours as I understand it. Sometimes it even hooked their wives' sympathies."

"But a month ago she went too far! She took on my husband! And two weeks ago I found out, and last week we discussed the matter and negotiated a little settlement."

"You see, Geoffrey's susceptible to a hot body like Cynthia's. So I needed to buy her off, or she'd have kept coming on to him, and who knows how it would have ended up. She's not the first woman to turn Geoffrey's head, though she just may be the last." Gail was lost in her thoughts for a moment. Then she said, "Your wife drives a very hard bargain."

"You see, honey, what I wanted was some kind of retribution or revenge. In a manner of speaking. Cynthia stole my husband away from me, so I had to steal hers away from her. But not just for a few nights! For good! I don't forgive easily. Now, you may not know it, but I'm not crazy about sex with men. I can handle Geoffrey all right, but for recreation I prefer women. You didn't know? Maybe nobody knows! Well, you were perfect! I'd heard you were some kind of transvestite in your off hours, you know, word gets around. So I told Cynthia, we'd have to set you up to go all the way. That's how I am! Deprive her of you for good! That's why you aren't going to be a man any more, sweetie. Not for Cynthia, not for anyone. You're a new woman. Maybe mine, if we can get on. One of mine. That was my price."

"Cynthia's price for all this was a promotion for you, with a whopping increase in salary. Not that you don't deserve one. A promotion might have come along after we fulfilled the Board's affirmative action goals, in six or ten more years, with a small salary increment, if you weren't downsized first. But that's what your wife wanted now, if she was to be deprived of your manly services for the rest of her life and yours. A really huge salary! That's reasonable enough, trading sex for money. I did it, lots of women do it."

"So I put a gun to Geoffrey's head, so to speak. It wasn't hard. I told him I'd caught him with his pants draped on his ankles, and he turned pale. But he could easily see the advantages to keeping you on as a top executive, especially if you really became a certifiable woman. And I suppose promoting you helped him discharge his own guilt at getting caught fucking your wife. So we all shook hands and it was a done deal. The rest is history, but someone else will have to write it."

"Donna, you are well and truly pussywhipped! Whipped into behaving like a pussy, too! And whipped into growing a pussy of your very own between your legs!"

She took my hand. "Peace, sweetheart," she said. "Welcome to womanhood! It isn't so bad! You'll love it!" Then as she looked around she added, "But I see the party's over."

I looked around. Everyone was gone. Cynthia too, and Rob.

Gail saw what was on my mind. "They've gone to that hotel I recommended to Cynthia, honey. There's a room reserved there for you and me, too, so let's go! Geoffrey doesn't mind my being bisexual, as long as I don't entertain my lady friends under his roof. That's reasonable. So I'll often spend time at that hotel. It's small and discreet and beautifully appointed. You'll love it."

She stood up. "Come on, honey. This isn't only your coming out night, it's your bridal night. A little bit of additional revenge Cynthia granted me. She screwed my husband, so I screw hers. And this way you get to see the coming attraction of the feature film that follows, Donna the Woman, This Is Your Life!"

I felt trapped. I didn't like feeling trapped. But I was utterly out of my league! I hesitated. Gail reached out her hand, and I took it, and stood up, and teetered for a moment on my heels. She supported me by one elbow until I caught my balance. Then suddenly she leaned forward and kissed me on the mouth. Her lips were fuller than Cynthia's, and softer.

"There you are, honey," she said to me gently. "Remember to take your purse."

"I can't perform tonight," I said. "Cynthia drained me this morning. She's very...passionate."

"I was sure she would," Gail said, smiling at me and tucking her arm under mine. "In fact I told her to do it. I don't want you to be distracted tonight by your cock. No intrusion of manly urges into your new first experience of sex as a lesbian. We'll perform the way women perform. You have a mouth, sweetheart, and hands, and an asshole. That's plenty. We'll find things to do. There's more than one way to skin a pussy! Don't worry, sweetheart."

"Of course like I've said, it's always possible that when you've got a cunt of your own you'll want to use it the old fashioned way. You may not turn out to be a lesbian at all, just one more straight woman filling herself up with straight men! Boring, but who can predict it? Different strokes!"

Gail smiled confidentially to me as she left the house and we settled into her car for the trip to her hotel. "Just between us girls. Geoffrey's upstairs asleep now. That's his punishment for starting up his little affair with Cynthia. She told me about it. Told me the old goat never wanted to sleep at all, just fuck, all night. So every night for the rest of his life I'll slip him a harmless little pill, and he'll be asleep even before he notices I'm not even in bed with him. And one of these days I mean to have silicone balls installed in his scrotum instead of the ones that're there now. He'll never know, but his cock will never salute anthing ever again! No more nookie for my Geoffrey! And all the more time freed up for me to get mine!"

She leaned over and kissed me again, this time passionately. "I told you I don't forgive easily!" she said.
 
 
Part 3.
 
 
The next morning when I pulled into our driveway there was a strange car blocking my way into the garage. Rob's. They'd spent the night fucking each other under my roof? I felt the hood -- the engine was still quite warm. No, they'd been in their hotel room, just as I'd been in mine.

I got out of the car and staggered up the walk, not only because of those heels, but because I had to walk spraddle-legged. My God, my asshole was sore! Gail had spent half the night plunging a fat rubber dildo in and out of it, my "boy pussy" she called it, until finally I had come in a very strange way, an incredibly intense seizure of my whole body, ethereal sort of, and then came a release and a trickling of fluids from my penis without it once getting erect!

Gail exulted when it happened. "Now you're a woman, honey! And don't let anyone tell you different! That's a woman's orgasm. You can have as many as you want, as often as you want! Now where's that pretty mouth of yours? I want that tongue inside my cunt again NOW!"

When she wasn't fucking me Gail wanted me to suck her pussy, to lick it and poke my tongue into it. Then when she'd had enough straight "tonguefucking," as she called it, she wanted me to force it into her anus. "Geoffrey kisses my ass, honey," she said. "You can do better than that! You'll see soon enough! Keep at it!" It finally happened just after dawn. She was sitting on my face with her cheeks spread wide apart when my tongue finally penetrated her rear, and her sphincters clamped down to hold it inside her. The taste was strange, but she treated me with great affection after I pushed in and out and licked her hole clean. It must have felt especially nice to her, because she told me she wanted to see me some more, since I had this talent, if I didn't mind. I didn't answer. My own hole was still drippy from the enema she'd given me to make way for her dildo, and there was nothing I could do about that. It still felt stretched wide open as I waddled into the house.

Cynthia and Rob were sitting in the living room when I came in limping and kicked off my heels, and then just stood there looking at first one, then the other of them. They'd been talking together quietly.

"Sweetie, you're back!" Cynthia leaped up and ran over and threw her arms around me. "I can't wait to hear all about it! Was it fun? Was it awful? Gail told me she'd clue you in and then break you in, so you'd know why we had to do what we did, why she thinks so, anyhow, why you're really and truly going to become a woman, and she promised she'd give you a little taste of what it's like. Things like that. You'd never have agreed to any of it, I know. But now, doesn't it make sense to you? Doesn't it? I do hope you like getting fucked! Tell me you liked it, honey! Please!"

She stood there, looking into my eyes. I looked into hers. She'd betrayed me in so many ways I couldn't begin to count them! But some of it was for my sake. She loved me, no doubt about that. It was all there in her eyes -- her worry, her concern for me, her hopes for our future, and the teeniest delighted gleam at the practical joke she'd played on me, sort of. And above all, her deepest, deepest affection. I could have drowned in that! I kissed her quickly, gently, twice, once on each eyelid.

"Oh, sweetheart!" she whispered. "Oh, dearest sweetheart!" And she kissed me full on the mouth.

Then she stood back. "I see you've lost your cherry," she said with a twinkle in her eye. "There's a bloodstain on your dress, in back. You shouldn't wear evening gowns when you're making love, or too soon after, honey. Or anything, really, unless you've got a tampon for afterward. The fluids leak. Gail must have gotten a little severe with those tender membranes inside your boy pussy. She did tell me that she likes to fuck her partners hard! Well, strip, and I'll set it to soak before it the stain sets too badly."

"Cynthia," I said. "Not now. You have a guest!" I glared at Rob. My rival. He'd been doing to Cynthia what Gail had done to me! What if she'd enjoyed it as much as I did?

"Oh, sweetie, Rob isn't a guest. Rob's here to stay! We're engaged! I've been engaged to him in my heart for a long time now, ever since there was only you at home, my lovely husband, my lovely husband who's never been able to provide for my needs, and who gets less able each year! I've sometimes felt we were engaged before we were born! It's a spiritual thing!"

I was confused.

"You know Rob's not married any more. First he wore his wife out sexually, and then she didn't want him. I heard she'd turned lesbian. Then she threw him out when I started up with him. Was it two years ago? Less? Honey, Rob is all I've ever wanted or needed for sex. I want you because you're so very sweet, and Rob because he can fuck me senseless! And I've been true to the two of you ever since any of us met. It's always been only you two. I've wanted us to live together for so very long! And now we can!"

"Because I do love you, Donna precious! Even if I were married to Rob right now, I'd still never want to share you with another woman. Not while you're still a man! I just can't bear the thought of some other woman clamping her hips onto that darling prick of yours, and feeling it move around inside her! It's mine! It's mine till death do us part! That's the way it is!"

"That's the way it is right now, anyhow. Gail probably explained it to you, what's going to happen to that dear little thing down there? Pretty soon there'll be no more sex between us, honey. Not when your hormones and your surgery make you more of a woman and no man at all. That's when we'll get divorced, and if things work out I'll marry Rob. But we won't separate, ever, I hope. You'll still live here, sweetheart! We'll still be good friends. Loving friends. Very best girlfriends."

"But then there'll be no more sex. You see, I can't do what Gail does. I'm not much for oral sex or dildoes or other girlie things like that, you know that, sweetie. With me it's always been a stiff dick deep in my wazoo, or else someone else's stiff dick stuck deep inside me! I can sit on a cock, and roll around on one, and slide up and down on one all day long! And all night! I've never had enough of it!"

"And make no mistake, Rob's is impressive. Not just that it's so huge you really can't not know when it's in you. It's that you can't move at all when it's all the way in you, just grunt! It's that it never seems to need to lie down, and when it does, it wakes up again after hardly any time at all! Rob can fuck four times, six times a day! And cum each time, and then fuck again! And at night the same! And again the next day!"

"Donna, how could any girl ever say no to a man like that? I've loved him ever since he came to work for your Company, that first Christmas office party. The bulge in his pants looked like Santa Claus's sack, and he invited me to reach inside to see if there was a present there for me! Was there ever? He's actually too much!"

"Anyhow, honeybun, that's why Rob is moving in with us! We need to live together for a while before we get married. You know. Just to make sure. And because I just might want him four, six times a day, now and then!"

She smiled at that. "Here, let me take care of your dress, while you two get acquainted all over again. You're Miss Vice President Donna, now, lover! Rob works for you! When he isn't working for me, that is! Rob, Donna is my best friend. Remember that. No more secrets from her. She shares everything with me. Even things that are very precious. Treat her with respect, always."

I carefully unsnapped and unzipped and unbuttoned my beaded gown, my bridal gown Gail had called it when we arrived in her suite and it became obvious she meant to deflower me. Cynthia took it and was gone.

I turned to Rob and sat down just across from him. He'd been listening to everything Cynthia'd said, looking at me with mild interest. I saw no mockery or scorn in his eyes.

"That's a very pretty slip, Donna," he said. "My ex had one just like it! Cynthia was so happy when she found it in Victoria's Secret a week ago, after she'd made her deal with Gail. She said it was a perfect match for the bras and things she'd already bought for you for when the big moment came. As it did last night. Drink?"

I shook my head. The elaborate hairdo the salon had pinned up now all tumbled down. Extra hair in it, "falls" and "rats" they called them. I'd prefer a clipped woman's hairstyle, I thought to myself, as I pinned it back up. There are some cute ones. Unless I can find some way out of this. I don't see any, though. "Too early for a drink," I said.

"Coffee, then." Rob went into the kitchen and brought back a small tray with coffee, milk, sugar, a spoon, and even a napkin spread across the bottom of the tray. He really was trying to be solicitous! "I don't know yet how you take it," he said quietly.

He sat down and continued his narrative. "Donna, Cynthia wasn't just happy when she found that white dress of yours, she was ecstatic! 'It's Don, it really is!' she kept saying. 'It's perfect for him!' She's been so happy, shopping for you, planning all kinds of things for last night, and for when you're eventually a woman! And I can't say she wasn't right about the dress. You know, with your slim hips, you'll be a real knockout when your boobs come in! Like a model!"

He meant well, but his encouragement wasn't welcome. "So you were in on this, Rob? From the beginning?"

"No. Well, yes, once Cynthia decided that she couldn't live without coming home to my cock every evening, and having it available all day every weekend. But it was all her planning. I only made suggestions. A year ago or so, when the beginnings occurred to her, when she was spreading it around that she was fucking everyone in sight, I helped her make it credible by setting up some stories with a few friends and their wives who were willing to cooperate. They couldn't figure why she wanted that reputation, but they did spread the word. She's got to be a remarkable woman, they'd tell me when I asked for their help. But I guess you already know that."

"Yes," I said. I was bewildered again, but I knew that Top Management never lets Junior Management know that. "So she never did sleep around, eh?"

"No. Just me. And you, of course. With me on call, why would she ever want anyone else?"

"Why'd she want me to believe she was sleeping around?"

Rob just looked at me. "Two reasons. One was so you couldn't feel jealous of any one man, and then try to do something stupid about it! Something violent. She wanted to protect me from you. And protect you from yourself, too. She tells me you can be a terror when you're mad, testosterone-driven she calls it, and that's why she wants your balls gone real soon, maybe as early as next week. The way she puts it, when fighting bulls become steers, they're no longer interested in fighting. Anyhow, she wanted you to blame her for whatever infidelities you heard about, not the supposed men involved. And not me. So you'd figure it was all her doing, not mine. She never mentioned me at all until just a few days ago, I'll bet."

"Not until yesterday morning, no," I said. "When we were fucking she mentioned it. Not before." It was only yesterday morning? "I never heard about any of the others either. She had to tell me about them. The word never got back to me."

Rob grinned. "Well, that's you. Hardworking and trusting, and outside the gossip loop. When you were fucking she told you, eh? I guess with you when she's fucking she can still use her brains. Clever of her. Nobody ever gets mad in the middle of a good fuck, she must have figured. Anyhow, that was the main reason she wanted to seem to be a loose woman."

"The other reason was to make it sound credible that she was screwing Geoffrey, for when the word got back to Gail. She had to get Gail's attention, and then stay in her line of sight! She had to seem to be a really serious threat so Gail would be willing to go all out and pay a steep price to stop her! And look at you, Miss Vice President! She sure did!"

"She wasn't screwing Geoffrey?"

"Of course not. That old fart? Whatever for? She was prepared to do it, if it came to that. But it wasn't necessary. She flirted with Geoffrey once, and then when Gail confronted him about the so-called 'affair' he denied everything, then came apart and admitted everything. Cynthia told Gail particulars of some pretty kinky stuff they'd supposedly done together. Well, Geoffrey's played around with so many secretaries that when Gail described his kinks he got all flustered and confirmed everything his dirty mind had ever done or imagined about any woman, as if it were solid fact. Gail still thinks they spent some time in the sack together?"

"Yes. She means to keep him asleep every night, and pretty soon castrate him."

"Tough broad. But I guess you know that just from last night!"

"I guess," I said, shifting uneasily on my bottom. It still hurt. Probably it was still leaking into my panties. I'd better ask Cynthia to lend me a tampon, I thought.

Rob noticed. "No, I don't just mean that she likes to ream ass and call that sex. I mean she emasculates men whenever she can! Look at you, for openers. You're a woman, in only one night. And your balls aren't long for this world either!"

I was silent. Was I already mourning their loss? "Who's responsible for that?" I asked. "Was that Cynthia selling my balls to Gail in order to buy my promotion, and my salary package, and a better life for us on my new income?"

"In a way." Rob leaned forward, now looking quite serious, ready to talk man to man. "We knew way back that would have to be a price you'd pay when she left you for me. If she had to leave you. Or something like that price. Because she loves you and she doesn't want to hurt you!"

"What?" I asked, baffled yet again.

"You see, soon after we found each other, when we were head over heels, enraptured, when we couldn't either of us ever get enough of each other, she told me what she wanted to do to you, so that when she finally divorced you and married me, you wouldn't mind."

I leaned forward too. "What was that?"

"She wanted to change your taste in women into a taste for men. To teach you to enjoy sex with men. So that by the time she left you for me you wouldn't even notice she was gone! So you'd be so happy with your nancy boys you wouldn't even remember to send her a Christmas card! She loves you, remember. She can't stand to see you hurt!"

"Is that possible? To make a straight man gay?"

"Maybe, if there are already latent tendencies. With different mood altering drugs and hypno-therapy and positive reinforcement, and the right kind of conditioning. She'd already started you on a drug that would keep you from getting erections -- she's been giving you small doses ever since, she tells me, to help keep you from straying. She's feels so very possessive about you! And she'd already lined up a doctor to provide an antidote and some gay guy's rear end simultaneously, so you'd get the notion that only a man's buns would turn you on ever again. That you could only cum again inside some guy's ass, not even in your own hand. Things like that."

I wondered if that would be preferable to where I was now, sitting in stretched out pantyhose and a slip and wearing an empty bra, leaking into my panties, new breasts and a vagina already in the offing, talking to my wife's lover. Or else in jail and disgrace, certainly for me, probably for Cynthia too.

"Why'd she decide I'd be better off as a woman?" I asked. "Because that's what she is?"

"Partly. But it was partly my idea."

"Your idea?!" My apparently famous temper began to rise up. My rival had schemed with my wife to get me out of the way by turning me into a woman? It sounded like one of those pornographic fantasies you read on the Net, or hear about on the sleazier talk shows, Geraldo or Jerry Springer. "You son of a bitch!"

"Now hold on." Rob remained even-tempered, even equable. "This was some time ago, remember. I was still married. But my wife was already prepared to divorce me, because she'd already taken up with someone else. With the boss's wife! With Gail! That's how I found out that Gail swings both ways. Or really, swings toward women, with gestures toward men!"

I was listening.

"So a much better idea occurred to us. Make you a woman, and a success at work, and a success in the sack with the boss's wife, and if you work at it, a success in your new gender too. Then you won't have to join a persecuted minority like the gays. You could have a respectable new life, and she wouldn't have to leave you, and you wouldn't ever have to leave her. Well, it took a long while, but the plan all came together. The payoff was just last night. With no effort needed on your part at all, I have to point out, and with only the barest cooperation! Cynthia did it all herself, all for you! She's quite a woman, your wife!"

"And yes, she thinks she's giving you a tremendous gift. It's a lot of fun, being a woman. She'd certainly be the first to say so. Just buying clothes and decorating yourself. And teasing men. And scheming schemes when everyone thinks you're a ditz. It can make for a pretty full life! Can't it?"

"I wouldn't know. Not yet, anyhow."

"Well, you will. Cynthia means for you to go shopping with her this afternoon. You two best girlfriends out enjoying your first day together! You'll need some power suits for your first day at the office, and some other things, right off. And lessons in everything feminine -- she's hired a tutor for you, to keep you busy while ... ahhh ...the two of us keep ourselves busy with each other. There's no escaping it now, Donna. Since you're a woman, you'll need to learn how to do things that all women do. And enjoy things that women enjoy. Share everything Cynthia enjoys."

"I see."

"Maybe not yet, Donna. Let me try to be clearer."

He leaned forward intently, until our heads almost touched. "I did just say it, if you heard me. You see, Cynthia really and truly loves you. In fact, she asked me to let you know that if you ever you feel inclined, when your new plumbing is all in place, or even now, just from the excitement of living a whole new kind of life, if you ever want to know just why she had to leave you for me, well, I should be available to help you understand. And I am available to help you understand. Even right now."

"For example, why don't you just reach over here and unzip my fly, and reach in, and take out my cock. Just hold it -- you'll need both hands. Heft it. Feel the heat, and feel it swell up. Maybe squeeze it. Just once. She'd love for you to hold a real man's cock in your hands for once. She's sure that once you've done that, you'll know why things have to be the way they are. And how bright the future can be for all three of us. Here, I'll unzip it. You can do everything else. Really, you owe it to Cynthia to see for yourself. And if I may say so, you owe it to yourself!"

I was shocked! What an indecent proposal! But it wasn't his proposal, it was Cynthia's. A sudden movement caught the corner of my eye, and I looked up toward the front hall. There leaning against a door post, quietly watching us, was Cynthia! How long had she been there? Who knew? She'd been listening closely though. I could tell, because she was looking straight at me, her eyes shining with a love I could see was absolutely undiminished by her love life with Rob! And she'd heard every word Rob had just said. I could tell, because her expression was so eager, so hopeful!

"I know why!" I said. "Why you left me here with Rob! It's because you don't care for oral sex, even with a stud like Rob, but he does, and you want to know his needs are well-attended? Here at home, so he won't stray? Is that it, Cynthia? Is that why?"

"Yes, honey! Yes, there's that! There's always been that. But your needs too, sweetheart! I love you too! I want you to be happy too! Every way imaginable, now and later on, too! Do you love me that much? Oh, honey, please?"

I hesitated. Then I managed to smile, a little kittenishly I hoped. "Maybe," I said. "And maybe not. What's in it for me?"

When she realized I was teasing her, Cynthia's adorable face broke into the most incandescent smile! Radiant! Utterly blinding! My last resentments melted away!

"Oh my darling!" she said, rushing forward toward both of us, her arms outstretched. "My sweetest angel! Let me show you!"
 
 

 
 
True Love  © 1998 by Vickie Tern. May be archived wherever hearts feel free and access is equally free.

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