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Message-ID: <28984asstr$982811403@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: vickietern@aol.com (VickieTern)
Subject: {ASSM} NEW TG: Perfect by Vickie Tern 10/10 M/F F/m femdom
Date: Wed, 21 Feb 2001 22:10:03 -0500
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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NEW TG: Perfect by Vickie Tern 10/10 M/F F/m femdom


This kind of story shouldn't be read by anyone who shouldn't read 
this kind of story.  No exceptions!

(c) 2001 by Vickie Tern.  May be copied to any free archive.  All comment
welcome (VickieTern@aol.com).


                                 x.

Two hours later I was standing by the altar in the midst of the
ceremony, still daydreaming in the indolence of my new complete
femininity, overjoyed to have discovered who I really was despite
who I thought I was.  It was lovely.  

And then with no warning came the worst moment of my life.  

The wedding guests were seated, and the pews were decorated with
white ribbons and pale yellow bows.  The bride's processional party
had gathered behind, waiting for the organ cue,  Gayle's father was
in full regalia up front among the baskets and sprays of flowers,
his embroidered and gilt-woven ministerial gown looking more
Givenchy than ecclesiastical.  Chris as the groom and Steve as his
best man arrived up front in full morning coat and cravat and stood
waiting.  The music began, and I walked down in stately procession
and took my indicated place. And I smiled at Steve, the dear, dear
man, and he smiled back at me, and we smiled at each other serenely
while unnoticed by either of us the groomsmen in black and
bridesmaids in pink arrived and lined up behind us.  I was on the
girls' side, one of them, one of the lovely girls in a beautiful
gown, like Gayle I supposed, feeling very special.  As I'd been
instructed, I handed my bouquet behind me, and someone took it.  

There was a pause.  The audience hushed.

Then the organ began playing a loud but solemn "Here Comes the
Bride," and all heads turned to watch.  

And a little flower girl in pink with white socks and sensible
white Mary Janes, smiling self-consciously, someone's seven year
old cousin, came sprinkling flower petals.  

Then all alone came Sue, all white, a hooded and deeply veiled
vision in white, carrying in her arms a huge white bouquet, white
roses, snow drops, baby's breath, slowly treading forward on the
white petal-strewn carpet.  The bride proceeding to her sacrifice,
her ritual deflowering in due time by the groom who stood there
waiting for her.  Chris, his plump and florid face seeming a little
choked by his wing collar, was watching Sue move slowly forward. 
Steve told me I'd had him last night.  In my mouth?  In my ass?  A
few times, both?  No recollection -- thank God for those pills
Gretchen had fed me until I'd finally learned how to live without
them by accepting myself as I am. Beautiful.  Feminine.  Desired. 
Myself.

Sue reached the altar and stood next to me, and her groom stepped
forward to stand next to her. They both faced Gayle's father.

"Dearly beloved," he began.  And as always happens when I hear a
religious liturgy intoned, I stopped listening and began
daydreaming.  About my own wedding some day to Gayle. No longer
myself in a morning coat or tails but now in a full resplendant
bridal gown, my face and hair done exquisitely, much as they were
now.  Modestly, sweetly holding both of Gayle's hands while words
were uttered over us that would weld us into one flesh forever.  

Chris and Sue had decided on a double ring ceremony, and Sue handed
me her bouquet to hand on when the moment came for the rings, each
one separately blessed, to be placed on each finger.  As was done. 
"With this ring I thee wed," each of them told the other in a
barely audible voice.  Gayle's father intoned more sounds while I
sank back into my happy thoughts, that I was beautiful and
beautifully dressed, and that the girl of my dreams loved me for
what I had become for her, the girl of her dreams.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife," Gayle's father declared
aloud, his voice resonant, speaking for God, as God, echoing God's
edict.  "And what God hath joined, let no man nor woman put as
under!"  There was a noticeable stir among the audience.  It was
done.  No one would dare put it asunder.  I wondered if Gayle, one
of the bridesmaids behind me, would feel tempted by the example
before her to seek to be pronounced wife and wife with me.  Soon. 
Not by her father, anyhow, I thought.  Should we both wear white? 
Or pink for her and blue for me?  Maybe this very dress, it fits so
beautifully.

There was handsome, beefy Chris looking at me expectantly, and I
realized I had just heard the Minister tell him "You may kiss the
bride."  There was an awkward pause, and I remembered that at this
moment I was instructed to reach over the bride's shoulders from
behind, lift the veil over her head, and drape it behind her, her
face now that of a married woman, finally fit to be seen.  I
smiled, reached across, and did that.  Sue stepped toward her
beloved, and they took each other in each other's arms, and they
kissed deeply. 

The congregation applauded as with a radiant smile they separated
and turned to face the aisle to begin their recessional.  I saw
then that the bride was not Sue.  

The bride was Gayle.  She had become Gayle.  Was I still dreaming? 
A nightmare!  I shook my head!  She was Gayle!  My Gayle!  My Gayle
had just married Chris while I had stood by calmly and watched! 
She was married!  This was Gayle's wedding!  Not to me!  

Gayle was standing next to Chris beaming her joy as I took all this
in, astonished!  Then they took each others' hands to proceed back
down the aisle, and the organ churned out Mendelssohn's joy in
utter abandonment.  For a moment Gayle just stood there.  She
looked at me with a wide smile.  I heard her say, "Thank you,
Allie.  Thank you for everything!  You're a pet!  I love you!"  

Then the two of them ran down the aisle away from me together!   

I was dazed.  I don't know how I got to the the wedding reception
at the town's largest hotel, or to the dinner and dancing that
followed.  I braced myself against the wall while others dashed
here and there, every few minutes blotting my mascara and taking
deep breaths to keep from sobbing.  I have never felt so utterly
alone!  So utterly betrayed!  Deeply hurt, enraged, I thought of
rushing back to the Inn and tearing off my beautiful full skirted
dress with its bodice fitted to my breasts and its lovely flounce
and ... but I couldn't!  I couldn't just put on pants again and
just be a man again and leave town!  The gown was so very lovely! 
My breasts were so lovely!  And there was nowhere for me to go.

Gretchen came to stand next to me as we both watched Chris take my
Gayle by her hand and lead her into their first dance, the first
dance of the rest of their lives together.  A sob escaped me.

"All women cry at weddings, Allie," Gretchen said softly.  "Go
right ahead."

"Oh, Gretchen!" I started to say in response to her sympathetic
voice, and I almost broke down.  But then I realized that Gretchen
must have known about this all along.  Together with Gayle she'd
manipulated me into becoming what I was, a woman, unalterably a
woman, a hopeful woman, and now a lost woman!  "Gretchen, why?" was
all I could get out.  Not angrily.  Broken-hearted.

"Because, Allie!"  Her voice was low, solemn.

"No, that's not an answer!"  My voice became high, shrill.

"Don't you trust her, Allie?" she replied.  "Don't you trust that
she has her reasons?"

"What good are her reasons now?" I managed to gasp out between my
suppressed sobs.  "I've lost her!"  And I began to wail.

Gretchen spoke sharply, and brought me up short.  "Do you regret
anything she's done till now?  Do you really regret what you are
now?"

I paused.  I had to answer honestly. "No," I said.  "I regret
nothing!"

"You don't regret that she's betrayed you repeatedly since you
drove here together?  Setting you up to fuck me?  Setting you up to
suck your first cock ritually in front of a hundred cheering women,
and like it?  Setting you up to get screwed fore and aft and
sideways all through last night by maybe two dozen guys, until the
pleasure and the power of it overcame any feelings of violation,
and you felt honored to be used like a woman?  Proud of your
womnan's body?"  

I had to shake my head forcefully.  "No regrets!" I said.

"You're still filled with jism.  Doesn't it feel good to remember
that your tampons are still soaking it up?"

I nodded.  I couldn't speak.  I should have felt humiliated.  But
instead, my morale rose.  I still wanted to be everything she'd
made me.  I no longer felt betrayed.  Rather, abandoned.  Forsaken. 
Terribly alone.

"Then be happy for Gayle.  Be grateful to her.  She's just made the
marriage of the century for this town, probably for the whole
State, and she's remade you into something you're proud of, and
she's set you up in a whole new career.  Even set you up with the
most powerful cock in town to suck on now and then.  You wanted to
marry her.  Well, marriage is founded on love and trust.  Love her
and trust her even though you feel you're an utter fool to do so!" 
Gretchen paused.  "That's what you've done until now, and you know
now that in the early days you really were an utter fool to trust
her."

I thought back to those days, when Gayle was teasing me out of my
masculinity step by step, turning me into a girl step by step with
my consent but without my realizing it.  I'd been her creature. 
Now I was her creation.  I had to trust her.

We stood together a while longer, watching all the powers of the
town enjoy themselves, all the older respectable wealthy folk
circulating and slapping each other on the back and kissing each
other's cheeks, and preening, and watching all of the younger ones
go off to dance or as happens at weddings, go off to do other more
private things in the upstairs hotel bedrooms.  They were my social
set now.  I'd been Gayle's Maid of Honor at the wedding of the
century.  Everyone would feel honored to know me.  I wondered where
Steve had gone.  I wanted him to ask me to dance.  I watched
Gretchen take a husky hunk by the arm and chat him up, and move him
onto the dance floor, and then when I looked again they were
nowhere to be seen.  She'd done with me whatever Gayle had asked
her to do with me.  Seduce me, and thereby disabuse me of any
possessiveness I felt for Gayle.  Or I might think Gayle felt for
me.  Prepare me to share her.  Prepare me to let her go.

When the time came for Gayle to throw her bridal bouquet, I was
chatting with a few of the mothers and their daughters, asking them
about some of the men I saw wandering the edges of the dance floor. 
I didn't notice at first that Gayle had come up right in front of
me.  All the other girls massed alongside and behind me, shrieking
their delight, and Gayle then tossed her mass of flowers --
straight at me!  It couldn't miss!  It filled my arms!  She smiled
at me and disappeared.  It was a last sweet gesture.  Maybe a
message of some kind?  

Eventually Gayle and Chris reappeared wearing travelling clothes
and waved to everyone, and everyone threw rice at them and followed
them out to the front of the hotel, and they looked happy and waved
yet again, and then got into a car parked by the curb.  They were
headed for the airport and the Virgin Islands for the next two
weeks. Two weeks spent in each other's arms.  

The car was pasted with pompoms and soaped with "Just married"
signs and trailing a few plastic pop bottles and a soup can tied to
a rear panel.  They drove off.  I stood out front in my beautiful
gown in the early evening chill, and watched them drive away, the
soup can rattle fading into the distance and then disappearing. 
They were gone.

I had been deserted.  I knew she'd be returning.  But not to me. 
She'd live with Chris in that large house with two entrances, and
we'd see each other on social occasions, maybe at dinner parties in
that very house, and we'd smile at each other for old time's sake. 
But I was alone.  I would sleep alone.  I stood by the curb
thinking, I don't want to go back to the party.  I want to go to
the Inn and change, and then fall face down on my bed and cry my
heart out.
 
"Allie," a man's voice behind me said gently.  "This isn't easy for
you, is it?"

I turned around.  It was Steve.  He had already changed to an open
necked sport shirt and a brown tweed jacket and a neat pair of
brushed suede pants.  

"No" I replied. "Not at all."

"You miss her already I bet."

"I do.  She's gone."

"In a way.  Would you like to go somewhere quiet for a drink and
some conversation?  A wedding can be so depressing afterward for
friends of the bride and groom who aren't themselves married.  We
always wish them well, but...."

I looked closely at him.  Men in brown tweed always seem
understanding and kindly disposed, I thought to myself.  It was
still early.

"Yes, Steve, I would like some company.  But can you take me to the
Inn first?  I need to change into something a little less
demanding."  I fluffed out the layers of tulle and ribbon and satin
that rocked back and forth from my hips to the ground like a giant
bell, my legs the clapper.  He nodded and went to get his car. 
While I waited, I fluffed out my hair.

We were both silent on the drive to the hotel.  Steve wanted to
respect my mood, but he also seemed to share it.  He indicated
silently a parking space where he'd be waiting for me, and when I
got out I stood and watched his car pull into that space and then
... wait.  He didn't mean to abandon me too.  That was reassuring. 
But also there was no escaping it, I would need to be sociable a
little bit longer.  

Once in my room I cast off my voluminous dress and tossed it on a
chair, then on impulse I changed out of the corset that had trussed
me into that gorgeous gown and sustained me through the ceremony,
and instead put on the sexiest black lace bra, panties, and garter
belt I owned, and then rolled on my stockings with lacy tops.
Because I'm an attractive girl, I told myself determinedly -- men
can't wait to be intimate with me!   And I stroked heavy eyeliner
on my eyes, and with a fingertip stroked shine on my eyelids.  I'd
at least feel desireable to me!  Then I changed into a short
decollote cocktail dress, one I'd brought with me even though it
was way too flirty for Gayle's parents' ever to see, and I touched
my hair.  And then went down to the car.

"Wow!" Steve said when he saw me.  "Allie, you are the most
beautiful girl I've seen since I arrived back here!  And you know
there were lots of lovely girls there this afternoon."

Wow yourself, I said to myself.  Maybe it was a line, though he
seemed sincere.  I'd find out.  And anyhow, if we were headed for
a bar somewhere, at least I could get plastered.  I checked the
long list of "don't say" words I'd been given during my long
journey through femininity to arrive finally here, in a car with a
man who'd fucked me sweetly but I scarcely knew.  Yes, a woman can
get "plastered," or "sozzled."  Men can get "pissed" or
"shit-faced."  

"I intend to get tiddly," I told Steve as we drove to whatever
destination.

"I know," Steve said.  "So do I."

Now what did that mean?  

Steve then surprised me.  He said.  "You miss Gayle.  And I miss
Chris.  They both knew we'd feel this way, and the last thing Gayle
told me as they drove off was, "Get to know Allie.  You'll find
she's well worth your knowing.  And let her find out the same about
you."

Gayle could talk like that.  Polite meaningless-seeming words that
were freighted with important meanings nevertheless.  "Do you know
what she meant by that?" I asked Steve.

"Yes, I think so, Allie.  Wait till we get where we're going and we
each have something alcoholic in our hands.

I was surprised when we arrived.  The bar was subdued and well
appointed, not crowded, but comfortably filled with well-dressed
and well-behaved people.  Young people much like ourselves.  As my
eyes got accustomed to the gloom I could see a small dance floor in
the middle distance.  There were people dancing to muffled,
tasteful music.  We picked up drinks at the bar and Steve led me to
a booth.  I sat where I could still see the dance floor, while
Steve sat with his back to it, facing me.  Little by little I made
out couples dancing.  Men with women,  Men with men.  Women with
women.  

"This is a gay bar!" I said aloud.  Another?  Like Kirstie's, only
for dancing and companionship, not for entertainment?  Two of them
in the midst of this straitlaced town?

"And lesbian.  And bi.  And transgendered, yes," Steve replied
calmly.  He leaned forward.  "This where we all come to meet our
friends."

I listened wide-eyed, silent now.

"Allie, I'm gay."  

I waited.

"And you're newly transgendered, a new girl.  I know.  And to
complete this round of re-introductions, so we both know
everything, you need to know this too.  My roommate Chris, the man
who just this day married your roommate Gayle, he's gay too.  Well,
really bi I guess.  He'll park his thing anywhere, but he's always
willing to reciprocate, to let others park their things anywhere in
him.  So we get on just fine, Chris and I.  We always have, ever
since eighth grade when we first found out what we especially like
about each other."  

I just stared.  

"There are bars like this in every town, meeting places for people
who're different.  Even in this town,  The Minister of All Souls
Church doesn't know, of course.  He never comes here.  He doesn't
believe that people should consume alcoholic beverages in public,
so he doesn't think they do.  He preserves his innocence.  So of
course he knows nothing about Chris, or about me.  Any more than he
knows anything about you."

"Wow!" was all I could say, dazed by what Steve was saying.  It had
enormous implications.  

Suddenly I found my voice.  "When was this wedding planned?  Why?" 
I made sure I sounded gentle, curious, no way resentful. It was
easy.  Because unexpectedly, that was how I felt.  

"Last summer.  Chris and Gayle had no choice.  A family obligation. 
Ben wanted the marriage for respectability, once and for all to
quell the unfounded rumors about his son.  And for Gayle's father
the marriage was a union of the secular and the sacred.  All Souls
Church would finally find financial security, and the owner of ME
enterprises would secure a strong voice to plead for him in the
hereafter, when he'd surely need one.  It was a match made in
heaven.  But it needed additional arrangements."

"You know I'm sure that it's customary for the bride to give her
Maid of Honor some special gift, a token of appreciation for all
she's been though on her friend's behalf.  A gift of love, as a
matter of fact.  Just as a bridegroom does for his Best Man.  Well,
she didn't forget her gift of love to you, Allie.  She left it with
me."

"Oh?" I said.  Now it was coming.

"You're very lovely, Allie.  Chris is a bull, and he's a fine man,
and I enjoy being with him, and I look forward to many years yet
when the two of us will enjoy each other just as Gayle is enjoying
him, probably, right now.  But I've missed being with gentler
people. I've missed delicacy, and beauty.  I've missed the
femininity of some of my partners before Chris and I decided to go
steady.  So he and Gayle worked it out.  A solid marital
arrangement.  Fifty-fifty.  Chris and I will be together half the
time, and if you're willing, during that time you and Gayle will be
together"

I hadn't touched my drink, but my head was swimming.  Steve reached
for my hand and held it.  And didn't release it.  He had very large
hands.  His touch was warm and gentle.

"Gayle told me to tell you that you aren't altogether a woman yet. 
That you'll need to know the love of a real man before you can be
a complete woman.  Someone you can love too.  To love to feel him
inside you.  To want to feel him inside you.  To know that he wants
you, and you want him!   To have the supreme confidence that comes
from knowing you're desireable and loved!  When that happens you'll
complete the journey Gayle planned for you.  When you've been as
intimate with a man as you and Gayle have been with each other, in
the same ways, and as loving, and have learned to love it.  Perhaps
even to love it as much.

I looked up into Steve's eyes.  They were as soft and warm and kind
as his hands.  His temperament seemed to be as tweedy as his sport
coat.  He really was rather handsome.  And he knew that I was
beautiful.  He'd said so.  As he held my hand, I felt especially
beautiful.  It was a warm feeling.  Special.  And I have to admit
it, the idea that I was still under Gale's tutelage aroused me. 
This man she had prepared me to accept over these past months,
without my knowing it, aroused me.

"Allie, I'm the little personal gift Gayle wanted me to give you as
her beloved Maid of Honor and dearest friend.  And now that I've
seen you and spoken to you, I'm delighted and honored that she
thinks so highly of me."  

The more I saw of this wonderful man, the longer he spoke, the more
I felt the same way.  But I indicated nothing.  A girl should never
seem too easy.   

"Chris already had me.  What to do?  He knew that while I love him
dearly, he's a rare exception in my life.  That I've always
preferred femme men, gay transvestites or transsexuals, men who
want to be women or believe that's what they are.  So he wanted me
to have such a lover for the times he's with Gayle.  He wanted me
to be happy even when we were separated.  And Gayle needed someone
to be with when she wasn't with Chris, someone devoted and
companionable, preferably also with a stiff cock.  Best of all
would be some one person willing to become what we both needed. 
Someone bisexual, intelligent and passionate and loving but also
delicate and beautiful."

I listened.  I realized that Gayle must have known this moment was
coming all along.  From the moment she'd approached me in that
coffee shop after class, she'd known there would come a time when
the woman she wanted to bed down with, formerly a man, would need
to be abandoned so she could be with her husband.  And that the man
her husband bedded down with would be feeling equally deserted.

"We looked, but there aren't any such men.  Gayle was near despair
when she first saw you in that business school class.  But she told
Chris after talking with you in some coffee shop that it might all
work out after all.  Then when she went jogging with you, and then
went to bed with you, she knew it.  Her word for you as you've
developed your potential and then realized it, as you've moved from
being a clever, decent and compliant young man to becoming a
passionate and sensitive and beautiful young woman has always been
the same.  Each time she's spoken to Chris to reassure him about
your progress, she's called you 'Perfect.'  Perfect in every
conceivable way.  With you as you are, Chris's and Gayle's parents
will never need to guess what their son is, or what I am, or you
once were, or what we've been planning, or why.  They'll preserve
their innocence.  If you want to be what you are, we can all be
happy."

Here it comes, I thought.  I felt somehow deeply satisfied.

"Allie, if you're willing, Gayle and Chris agree that you'd be
perfect as the rare, delicate, precious gift that Chris would like
me to have.  If you'll have me."  

I knew I should feel annoyed to learn that I've been taken for
granted, used, for this.  But I didn't feel annoyed.  I felt
privileged.  Cherished.  Cared for.  Tended as carefully and
tenderly as a beautiful flower raised for many months to become the
grace note of a single beautiful occasion.  I wouldn't ever have
Gayle for my own exclusively, I knew that now.  That had been a
dream.  I'd have settled for a half a loaf.  But all along Gayle
had wanted me to have more than half a loaf.  She'd wanted me to
have two half-loaves.   

With that realization, I knew I should be blushing with pleased
embarrassment.  But I wasn't.  Instead I was remembering that on
impulse earlier this evening, I'd put on my sexiest black undies. 
I wondered if Steve was responsive to sexy black underwear.  Did he
ever secretly wear any himself?  Something in his politeness, his
gentleness, the fact that he was the chosen and faithful partner to
a massive bull of a man, told me that he might welcome surrender to
a either a man's or a woman's domination.  Especially a woman he
persisted in thinking was still in some sense a man.

I thought too about Chris.  What was there in Steve that paired
them so well?  If I liked Steve, was it possible I might enjoy
Chris too?  Gayle did.  And Gayle and I had always enjoyed the same
things.

"And I want you to know right now," Steve told me.  "Now that I've
met you, I agree with Gayle.  You're perfect.  My head is swimming
at my incredible good luck that we're here now, tonight."

I suddenly realized that logically, inescapably implicit in all
this was a proposal of marriage.  Respectability would require that
we live as separate married couples, no doubt in that house Chris
and Gayle had prepared for us, the one with two entrances but
inside, almost certainly, no dividing walls.  But I would not be
taken for granted.  I decided immediately that Steve would have to
propose to me properly, formally, on his knees.  And once I had him
on his knees, I was sure I could find other uses for him.  

Enough speculation, I told myself.  Time to find out some answers. 
Steve was still gently holding my hand in his two large hands.  I
placed my other hand on his and carefully lifted them both to one
of my breasts, its upper curves warm and bare.  His eyes widened,
and then he closed them again, the better to concentrate on the
erotic sensations sent all through his body by his fingertips.  I
let those fingertips brush my erect nipple in passing, and a
yearning sensation pierced me from that nipple all the way through
to my groin.  Steve moaned slightly as he felt what I felt.  He too
was beginning an erection.  Perfect.

I stood up, still holding both his hands.  "I think I'm lucky too,
Steve," I said, staring steadily into his gentle eyes, never taking
my gaze off him, until finally he looked away, a bit embarrassed. 
Was it Steve who was blushing this time?  "Both of us are lucky. 
We've both lost the loves of our lives, in a way, but we've both
found something too.  We've found each other, haven't we?  And we
need each other.  I'm still feeling lonely, and I'm sure you are
too.  I want to be held tonight.  Held close.  I need to be held
close.  Would you like to dance?"

END

(c) 2001 by Vickie Tern.  May be copied to free archives.  Any
others, ask (VickieTern@aol.com).


VickieTern@AOL.COM

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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