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Message-ID: <28989asstr$982818602@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: vickietern@aol.com (VickieTern)
Subject: {ASSM} NEW TG: Perfect by Vickie Tern 7/10 M/F F/m femdom
Date: Thu, 22 Feb 2001 00:10:02 -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 7/10 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).


                             vii.

"It'll be a long weekend, Allie.  Five days, Wednesday through
Sunday, so bring clothes for at least that long."  

"All right," I said.  After much shopping, with Gayle, Meg, even
Connie, on my own as I gained confidence, my closet was full and I
loved everything in it.  The morning ritual of selecting an outfit
for the day was so much more fun than just putting on clothes,
especially when Gayle praised some daring combination that came off
with flair.  Thinking about fashion yet comfort for the trip, I
took down some designer jeans that had always turned heads when I
wore them.

"No pants at all of any kind, sweetheart," Gayle said with a little
regret in her voice.  "Some of the Church Board members think pants
on women are an abomination.  So, dresses and skirts only, and of
course stockings -- bare legs are for summer.  Some cocktail
dresses for social occasions.  For more casual, try to go as girly
as you can.  Skirts all above the knee, cute, pert, kittenish,
flirty, those are what younger women wear in my town."  

"Sexy not allowed?"

"Sexy is very allowed, Allie.  I know it sounds peculiar to a big
city girl like you, but in a town our size, to want to be
attractive to men is a proper girly thing, so sexy is altogether
proper.  So take your prettiest lingerie and an exotic nightgown or
two.  That miniskirt I love that shows off those cute round rear
cheeks of yours whenever you bend over -- could those hormones be
rounding your butt already?  And those teasing French lace panties
that don't quite cover the curves.  I want all the men to admire
you.  I want to see pricks standing straight up when you pass by,
like telephone poles on a highway.  That formfit elasticized blouse
you can't wear even with a bra, the one that wraps around your
breasts and nipples like a glove and thrusts you out forward and
leaves nothing to the imagination?  That's ideal.  You have a
gorgeous figure now, sweetheart, with your small waist and large
boobs.  Flaunt it.  You can even look a little whorish.  Make the
men drool.  Make me proud!"

"Gayle, I'll get raped!"

"Not by these men.  Not by most of them.  You'll see.  They're all
very proper, all look and no touch.  Lead us into temptation is
what they pray daily, because then when they're done leering they
can remember to resist and feel proud of themselves.  That way they
think they've earned Brownie Points with the Head Honcho upstairs. 
They think He thinks that absolute virtue consists in having no fun
at all." 

"You grew up in a strange place, Gayle.  No wonder you behave a
little strange sometimes."

Gayle beamed at me.  "Takes one to know one, lover," she said.  "We
found each other."

"You found me," I corrected her.

"Little by little you found yourself, and became what you now want
to be," she said.  "Don't you?  But I made you what you are today,
I admit it.  I hope you're satisfied."

"Very."  I went over to her and took her around her narrow waist,
and she took me around mine, and we pressed our crotches against
each other.  That hallway mirror image of us came back to mind. 
Two women in love.  I gave her a light kiss on the lips, which she
returned.

Then I broke off.  "Nothing decent to wear at all?"  

"Decent is allowed.  It's boring for the men, but some women
insist.  Older women wear proper.  Us city girls are something they
do accept now finally, but they still need to swallow hard to get
used to us, women who wear power suits and severely tailored
blouses and sit in offices telling men on the phone to cut the crap
and deliver the goods.  And sit at home telling their husbands the
same thing.  But most girls who remain there grow up to run
households and be attractive to men and have an affair or two, and
meanwhile remain girls until they're grandmas.  And most boys grow
up to run businesses and head families and remain boys all their
lives because they don't know how else to be.  Anyone with any
pizzazz leaves home.  A few come back afterward, you'll meet one or
two.  You'll see."    

We rented a car for the four hour drive to the comfortably
prosperous town where Gayle's family lived.  As we left Gayle's
apartment she looked around slowly and regretfully, as if
committing each wall-hanging and article of furniture to memory.

"It's only for five days," I told her, trying to console her for
some unnamable loss she seemed to be anticipating.  She nodded,
then turned toward me and looked me over the same way.  I'd done my
hair especially carefully that morning, thinking ironically that as
Gayle's parents' potential son-in-law I wanted to look especially
beautiful, to make a good impression on them.  My hairdo formed a
pretty halo around my delicately made-up face.  I'd gone especially
heavy on the eye make-up.  Dana's secret recipe, sauce for the
feminine mystique.

"You look lovely, Allie," she said.

"Thank you," I replied.  She seemed in a strange mood indeed!

"Allie,...." she began, as if a crack had opened in some dam, and
the first trickle of water had appeared of what would shortly be a
deluge while the whole dam crumbled.  Then she took a deep breath,
and the crack disappeared.  But she still felt under pressure, I
could tell.

"Allie, you do trust me, don't you?"

"You know I do," I said, as intensely and devotedly as I could feel
she needed to hear it.  "Absolutely!"

"Absolutely, no matter what?"

"Absolutely!" I told her.

"Because Allie, this is not going to be easy on you, this trip.  It
may seem a little boring, much of it, but believe me, Allie, you
will not be bored.  Shocked, bewildered, betrayed, gratified, but
not bored.  This is going to be one of the most difficult
experiences of your life, at least since you lost your parents. 
But there's no other way.  You have to go through it to arrive
where I need you.  It's just...it's just...."

"What?" I said as gently and quietly as I could.  She seemed
agonized, my poor darling.

"Just remember," she said, beginning to recover herself from
whatever it was.  "Just remember that I love you, and you love me,
and you'll see when we emerge that we'll be living together happily
ever after, making a life for ourselves exactly as you've hoped. 
Not exactly the way you've imagined it, that's all.  Different.  In
some ways better."  She smiled to herself.  "But you can't know
that yet.  You can't even imagine it."

Now I was absolutely baffled!

She had now concluded this strange speech.  "I've made all the
arrangements.  I know I'm right!  But you'll just have to trust me. 
You do, don't you?"

"I do," I said solemnly.

"Then darling, I now pronounce us woman and wife.  You wanted a
marriage, didn't you?  Well, there it is.  Now let's get in the
car."

Gayle took the wheel.  As we drove off I saw Gayle's wistful mood
evaporate, leaving behind the capable woman I'd first seen in that
personnel class we took together months back, and the lover I'd
come to know since then.

"It's like this, Allie.  We won't see a lot of each other this
weekend.  You'll be staying at the local Inn, and I'll be staying
at my folks' place, in fact I'll be sleeping in the same room I
slept in as a girl.  You know, the same banners and teddy bears and
posters of cute guy rock stars I'd put up before I knew what I
really wanted.  They've kept it that way as a shrine to me.  I'll
always be their little girl.  You know how it is."  

She glanced at me.  "No, poor Allie, you don't know.  You never
were a teenage girl yourself, were you?  Well, cheer up.  Now you
can be just that.  I want you to enjoy being a teenage girl.  More
than that!"  She glanced at me again, and licked her lips.  "I've
arranged it.  When we're done you'll be just like me, a woman with
a past!"  Now she looked at me yet again and grinned mischievously. 
"More mystery!  But you'll love it I suspect.  I'm sure you won't
be bored." 

More mystery indeed!  But at least it sounded like fun.

Then she added, "We'll see each other probably only on three
occasions this weekend once I drop you off at the Inn.  Always with
lots of others crowding around.  I'll be entirely occupied by
family and things.  There'll be only the Thanksgiving dinner, which
will be a mob scene, and then Friday night the ladies are planning
something, and Sunday in Church will be another kind of mob scene."

I made a disappointed noise.  She glanced at me again, still
gripping the wheel firmly.  "Sweet Allie, don't you worry.  You'll
be busy every moment, same as me.  You won't have much free time to
miss me, I promise you that!"

She nodded to herself, then looked at me again with a superbly
commanding expression .  "I made you what you are today, Allie, and
I know you're satisfied.  But don't think I'm done!  We're getting
close.  Fix your lipstick."  Then her eyes went back onto the road
ahead.

As we approached the outskirts of town Gayle gave me a quick
briefing on the people I'd meet.  Her father was Minister of All
Souls Church, attended by everyone who mattered in the community,
the strait-laced and righteous and the very wealthy, who were the
honorary righteous.  Most of the town's civic leaders belonged. 
The Church Treasurer was also the President of the Fiscal Security
Bank, and yjr Church's Board Chairman Ben was the head of
Mercantile Enterprises, the town's largest employer, and also
Gayle's parents' closest friend.  We drove past "ME" signs on
warehouses and packaging plants and office buildings it seemed
forever before crossing a railroad track and then, finally,
entering a more residential neighborhood.  

"The head of ME as they call it is Ben, the founder.  He has more
money than anyone.  He could buy the town but doesn't need to,
because everyone already feels bought, they do what he wants. 
You'll meet him, he's a lady's man -- watch out for him.  His son
and heir's Chris, you'll see him at our family Thanksgiving dinner
and afterward too.  Our parents expect certain things from us, but
neither of us feels committed -- we have certain understandings,
Chris and I.  Watch out for him too.  He makes plays for girls
whenever others can see him do it.  It can be embarrassing."

"This is the 'Chris' who's been looking forward to 'the big
event'?"

"He's the one.  Anyhow, to be anyone in my town you have to belong
to my father's church.  That means you must practice unassailable
virtue as attested by my father, who never sees anything but virtue
anywhere anyhow.  Which is why I had to leave home to find out what
I really wanted and how to get it."  She smiled, pleased, and
glanced at me again.  "Which is how come I found you.  Here we
are!"  

She pulled in at the Inn's front entrance and waited.  I got out,
and a boy in uniform came to put my luggage on a wheeled cart. 
Gayle waited, feeling for a way to say something.

I leaned in to kiss her goodbye for now, and she pulled back
slightly, amused.  "Two women kissing?  They'd talk about it for
weeks."  Then she gave me an intense look, loving but pitying. 
"You're a lovely girl now, Allie, remember that.  Say it."  

Odd.  But why not say it?  "I'm a lovely girl."

"No matter what!  And remember, you told me that you trusted me. 
Say that again!"

"I trust you, Gayle!"

"Good.  You do that!  Bye bye, baby!  Love you"  And she drove off.


Bye bye, I called out to her in my mind, wistfully.  

"Bye bye to lots of things, baby!" came a voice behind me. "Your
innocence for openers!" 

I turned as rapidly as my high heels allowed.  "Gretchen!  You're
here too?"

Gretchen was there all right, dressed fashionably as always, with
a provocative twist to her body as always. "I wouldn't miss it,
Allie honey!  And I'm necessary, moreover.  Gayle didn't tell you? 
I'm your guide to this weekend's various events. I've got the car,
and I know what's going on where and you haven't got a clue. have
you?  That didn't occur to you?  I guess not.  Gayle's made all the
arrangements ever since you met her, so you haven't had to think
for yourself or take any initiatives, have you?  You just do
whatever Gale says, don't you?  Well, she asked me to look after
you, so you just do whatever I say.  You have quite a time coming." 


I didn't want to answer, so I didn't.

She looked me over, her expression ironically amused as always
whenever she saw me.  "You look absolutely adorable, Allie.  You're
the prettiest boy here.  I'm sure you're the only man in this town
who at this moment is standing on a sidewalk wearing lipstick and
high heels and a short, flirty skirt, showing his cleavage and
waiting for the action.  The other local weekend crossdressers are
still in their factories and offices I'd guess.  Gayle told you to
flaunt those new boobs of yours so you'd look authentic?  Like a
woman, not a man?"

"I am a woman, Gretchen."  But suddenly I felt naked, exposed.  The
way Gretchen talked, brassy, skeptical, in your face always, I
became vaguely aware that my womanhood, my self-image, was more
fragile than I'd thought it.  It seemed to depend on what other
people thought me.  With Gayle or Meg or Connie I had no doubt that
I was one of them.  With Gretchen I was starting to feel like an
imposter.  A near-miss.

"Not yet you aren't a woman, sweetie.  Not to me!  You're what
Gayle wants, a sweet sissy boy who's been drifting and dreaming his
way into thinking he's a sweet girl and is just about persuaded. 
But don't worry, this weekend we'll make a real woman of you. 
Let's get you checked in." 

It was rather a nice place, as I looked around the lobby.  Oak and
marble, well appointed, comfortably affluent without seeming
opulent.  I said so to Gretchen, wondering if my room would look
that way too.  For once she was silent.  We both followed the
bell-hop, and when he opened the door I saw there were someone's
dresses draped on a chair, and a vanity case in the bathroom.  I
looked around puzzled as the attendant put my bags onto a rack for
me, then left.

"It's 'our' room, sweetie, not just yours.  We share.  This is
Thanksgiving weekend, they're full up."

"There's only the one bed," I said.  Except for that girl I'd dated
once who left me for a hunk, Gayle was the only girl I had ever
shared a bed with.  And intimacy with Gayle was a private matter
between us alone, unique, and precious to me for that reason.  I
cherished it.  I was true to her.  I wasn't too happy about this. 
"I'm faithful to Gayle" I said determinedly, staring at the bed.

Now Gretchen really was amused.  "What're you worried about, Allie? 
Two women snuggling together?  Don't worry, we won't snuggle.  And
this bed's just right for a man who likes to wear dresses, I see. 
Queen-sized."

Then impatiently, "Unpack and let's go find something to drink --
I hear they have a nice cocktail lounge, and the restaurant's
pretty good too.  There'll be no alcohol at Gayle's house.  Maybe
we should buy a flask to carry around?"

I'm really not sure how what happened next happened.  We were
seated in the "Pow-wow Room."  Gretchen ordered Maragaritas for
both of us, double sized -- a "ladies' drink" she called it -- and
while we sipped them and ordered another round she quizzed me about
my sex life.  

"I'm curious," she told me.  "You didn't originally want to be a
girl, did you?  It all happened because Gayle wanted you to be a
girl?"

"Pretty much.  Because Gayle wanted it for me.  But at every step
she made sure it was what I wanted too."

"I'll bet she did.  You'll pardon me Allie, but you do sound naive. 
How well do you know girls?  Did you sleep around much when you
were still pretending you were a man?  Before Gayle made you into
her girlfriend?"

This was going to be a long weekend, I could see.  "No," I said. 
"There was only one before Gayle, really.  And she left me for
another guy.  'A really buff guy' she called him.  I'm not."

"Tell me about it.  A buff guy's nailpolish doesn't usually match
his lipstick the way yours does, does it?  Well, did you try
sleeping with really buff guys yourself after she left you, to see
what the appeal might be?  Or did you wait until you owned a few
pretty party dresses, and then start dating them?"

"I've never dated men!  I'm not gay, Gretchen!"

"But you're supposed to be a woman, Allie.  Don't women manage to
sleep with men now and then without being gay?"

I had no answer to that.  Gretchen was trying to confuse me.  I was
getting confused.

"Didn't I hear that you once felt attracted to a man in a coffee
shop, someone you picked up while you were being true to Gayle?

How had she heard of that!?  "I turned him down," I said, before I
realized I'd confirmed the rumor for her.

"You turned that one down and then regretted it?" Gretchen said.
"And then never went trolling for another?"  She sounded
incredulous.

I was silent.

"I've seen you dance and flirt with guys when we're out together."

"It's what's expected!"

"But fun, too?"

I was silent.

"So do you know what you are really?  A little boy with a crush on
a girl who'll do anything to please her.  A natural submissive. 
She gets you to act out until you can convince yourself you're a
genuine wannabe woman, maybe.  Maybe even a gay man still in the
closet, hiding out even from himself?  You know, maybe I'm wrong
about you, Allie.  Maybe you're sincere after all.  Sincerely
confused!  Let's have one more of these things and then find the
restaurant."  

She ordered a third double Margarita for each of us.  For both of
us.  I was starting to come unfocussed.  I shook my head a few
times to clear it.  It didn't clear.  I told Gretchen.

"Too much stress, I'd say.  Too much fear.  You're a guy who'll
soon be meeting Gayle's parents and lots of other strangers while
wearing panties and a bra and all the fittings out in the open,
with his hair done up to look pretty.  A guy because all you've
ever really done that real women do is shop and get your hair done. 
And that's not being a woman."

"Thass not so," I said.  "Talk to lotsa women 'n girls all a time. 
Like a girl."

Gretchen didn't relent.  "But this time you're in person, not just
over the phone, not just voice to voice.  You may think you're
expressing your true self through your make-up and clothes and
voice and all, but it's all stage costume.  What you're really
doing is hiding!  Sure you're nervous.  Here, take one of these."

She handed me a teeny white pill.  "While you're here you'll need
some of these.  I'll decide when.  It's kind of like Prozac, but
stronger.  You won't feel less confused but you'll worry a lot
less.  Go with the flow.  That's what we want."  She watched
closely while I swallowed it.  "There.  Add alcohol to that pill
and stir and you'll find you're a little suggestible too, inclined
to say 'Sure, why not,' whenever anyone wants you to do anything. 
But that's the point, isn't it?"

What point?  I nodded.  And I don't remember too clearly all of
what happened after that.

She led me into a restaurant and we had dinner with wine and I
couldn't slice my meat because my knife and fork kept getting mixed
up in the wrong hands.  Gretchen came around to my side of the
table and said never mind Allie you're a dear anyhow, just suck on
them.  So I did, lying there on my back on the bed with my breasts
exposed to her hands and they were feeling so wonderful, so very
wonderful, her hands, with my hands tied to the bedposts and her
breast in my mouth.  Then mine in hers, first one then the other,
and my nipples so luxuriously responsive and erotic that my whole
body went into a kind of orgasmic spasm.  I was a single tense
clenched bundle of glory until she stopped fondling them. I opened
my eyes to see her perched over my crotch.  

When she saw I was finally focussed she said deliberately, "You
love Gayle, don't you Allie."

"Mmmmmmm!" I told her.  She was naked.  That wasn't right. But I
was too.

"And you're always faithful to Gayle, aren't you.  No sex with
anyone else!" 

"Always!"  And tears came to my eyes.  Gayle was everything to me! 
I was hers.

"Of course, always!" she said smugly, and she fitted my erect pole
into the opening of her pussy and slowly and carefully slid herself
down onto it.  I sighed.  It was warm and wet and slick, like
coming home to Gayle, only to Gretchen..  When she got all the way
down, she wriggled and touched my nipples, and again involuntarily
my hips rose up to push against her crotch, my whole body stiff and
tense and extended into ecstasy.  Then when she lifted herself up
I saw my cock emerge glistening. Then she came down again.  Then
up.  I was her personal dildo.

It felt good.  I wanted to help her, so I began to move with her. 
Faster, all the while she watched me steadily to time my orgasm
with hers, faster and faster until I screamed out "Oh God! Oh God!
Oh God!" and she closed her eyes satisfied as I spurted and spurted
into her.  

"Oh, God!"  A wall of remorse suddenly fell on me!  A whole
building!  What have I done?  How could I do this?

Gretchen smiled satisfied and said, "There we are, Allie.  Now
you're no longer a virgin in your own mind!  Your first night away
from Gayle and you fuck her best friend!  Welcome to Infidelity
City."

Oh, God! "I didn't want to.  I didn't want to," I said despairing,
over and over.

"Tell me about it.  I'll put my pussy on your mouth.  Tell my pussy
all about it.  Persuade my pussy that you didn't want to.  See if
it listens."

She wriggled forward until her crotch was directly over my mouth,
then lowered herself and clamped her pussy lips onto my lips.  She
was slick with the flavor of my cum, familiar to me from Gayle's
usually telling me to lick myself back into me to rejuvenate
myself.  But she was slick with the flavor of her own juices too,
deep and musky, not Gayle's.  She was trying to annoint me with
them, to make me hers.  I closed my mouth tight.  That amused her. 
She looked down at my face, still twisted in agony over my betrayal
of Gayle, and she pinched my nose.  A moment later I opened my
mouth to gasp air.  She sat down firmly and squeezed her thighs on
my head, and I was clamped to her, and then she squeezed something
inside her and a large glob of semen and pussy juice passed from
inside her vagina directly into my mouth.  She continued to pinch
my nose, and I was choking. I swallowed it.

"There now.  Now eat the rest of your dinner, Allie sweetheart, all
of it.  Lick it all up.  Persuade me not to tell Gayle."

To my shame, I tried to lick up all the evidence.  To persuade
Gretchen not to tell.  I spend the next half hour slurping her
juices and mine out of her.  She enjoyed it and she enjoyed her
triumph over me, both, in orgasms she celebrated each time by
urging me to suck and lick even more dedicatedly!  I felt defeated. 
By my own desire to suck on her.  By my own body's betrayal of me. 
By my own faith in the purity of my feelings for Gayle, too.  As we
finally separated to sleep, by mutual consent we turned our backs
on each other, and Gretchen uttered a judgement. 

"Allie, as a man, you're all right.  I can see why Gayle wanted to
harness this loyalty of yours, make it jump through hoops and sit
up and beg.  But as Gayle's new woman?  As a man-turned-woman who
wants to marry her?  What do you think you are now?  Could she
possibly want to marry you?  An available slut?  Any woman's
cuntsucker?  Answer me!  Go back to being a man!"

My eyes were shut, tight shut to hold back tears.  "I shouldn't
have done it.  I don't deserve her!" I began to wail.  "I'm ...!"

"No, that's true," Gretchen interrupted.  "You don't deserve her! 
And she was never going to marry you.  Don't think we're done, yet,
sissie-boy.  There are lots of things you need to know and she
needs to know you know!  Here, take another of these, it'll help
you sleep."   And she handed me another pill.  Demoralized, I
swallowed it.  And slept.

The next morning I still felt addled, as if I hadn't slept much at
all.  All that alcohol and guilt.  Guilt for what?  And then I
remembered.  I started to cry.  And once I began crying I couldn't
stop.

Gretchen heard my strange racked whining, and I suppose it woke her
up.  When I lifted my head for a moment I saw her propped on one
elbow and staring at me, her bed partner, a supposed woman who now
lay next to her with her shaking and  sobbing.  I lifted my face to
stare tearfully at the ceiling, as if beseeching help, and then
flung myself down again.  I couldn't stop,  This was not me!  But
it was me!  One long anguished wail!

"It's time to get up, Allie," Gretchen said.  Her voice was gentle,
subdued, surprisingly compassionate.  Did she sympathize with me? 
"There's more for you today!"

"Why?  Why?  Why?  Why?" I cried out in terrible grief, beating my
pillow with my fist with each as if punishing myself or punishing
Gretchen for doing this awful, this terrible thing to me. 

"Because!" was all Gretchen would say.  Considering what she had
just done, done to me, her voice sounded sorrowful.  That seemed to
me odd.  I looked at her.

She saw and her eyes glazed into impassivity.  Then, "What's your
problem, sissy boy?  You got a good fuck, and you gave as good as
you got!  Get up and pull yourself together!  The big Thanksgiving
Dinner is gathering at Gayle's parents house.  We've got a way to
go, so take your medicine like a man and let's get started!"

When I went into the bathroom I saw she meant it literally, another
little white pill lay alongside my birth control compact and
make-up kit.  I took it and soon felt better.  Whatever had
happened, whatever would happen, it wasn't my fault and it didn't
matter.  I was smiling vaguely when I returned to lay out my dress
and other things, the black silk two-piece Gayle and I had decided
was exactly right for the Minister's table.  Gretchen was wearing
dark purple, and I told her the color suited her.  She kissed me on
the cheek and smiled too.

end 7/10
VickieTern@AOL.COM

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