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Message-ID: <43586asstr$1059264603@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: vickietern@aol.com (VickieTern)
Subject: {ASSM} Last Summer by Vickie Tern 5/11 TG femdom wife
Date: Sat, 26 Jul 2003 20:10:03 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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                          Last Summer

                        by Vickie Tern



                             v.

My excitement continued for the whole summer.  Mainly because of
Craig.  Each week I'd join him for lunch and soon afterward we'd
join our bodies, quarrel and nudge and joust with each other in
every way conceivable hour after hour.  I'd plaster myself to him. 
Bliss.  Then for the rest of the week I'd cope with my remorse by
helping my husband become a better woman, a cuter girl, my own
sissy girlfriend, someone I happened to live with but owed no
marital obligations.  And that was enormous fun too, introducing
him to the world of women, to my world, and encouraging him to go
out and explore it on his own just a little.  Just a little!  My
darling Scottie!  He did end up looking as cute as Mort!

I did go a little too far, I think.  More than once.  I'm sure I
went too far.  

Not too far with Craig, there was no place that far I could go with
Craig, and believe me we tried!  Our need to challenge each other's
stamina and responsiveness was often feverish, obsessive.  It
peaked with two months to go, an incredible two weeks we spent
rolling around on each other on his sailing yacht.  I hardly
thought about Scottie at all then, off in Texas getting
electrolysis on his beard and body hair, getting his body filled
out, getting the other little revisions I'd asked for.  After those
two weeks, for the remaining months we went at it ferociously, hot
and heavy and exhausting.  No longer insatiably, though.  And all
through August it did wind down as I'd anticipated. 

With Scott it was something else.  I loved my sessions with Craig,
and now and then I felt especially bad that I was cuckolding my
husband for a more manly man.  I know it was perverse, but then I'd
want to punish him for making me feel that way.  Not Craig, Scott! 
He tried diligently to be true to his promise to me, to do
everything I asked.  He was so compliant in fact that I found
myself tempted to go to extremes with him, as if he were Craig and
I was testing him, not my beloved and loving partner for life. 
Sometimes I hoped he'd resist me so I could accuse him of bad faith
and end our agreement in a rage, or do something really extreme and
that way maybe feel better about the whole thing.  But he never
resisted.  He hesitated a few times, and he looked at me with deep
questioning eyes a few times, but in the end he did everything I
asked.

What I tried to do without thinking it through was wipe him out of
sight and mind as a man and make him into someone else to whom I
felt no obligations.  So when we woke from that first Sunday
morning I sent my hubbie downstairs in my housecoat to fix
breakfast and phoned Doreen at her home.  Doreen was my
hairdresser, with a small beauty shop we all went to, Cheryl and
Mort too.  I loved what she had done with Mort when they got back
from their honeymoon and it became apparent that Mort needed a
style of his own for the long haul.  She had marvelous instincts
for hair like Scottie's, full and not too short.  I wanted him
ultra-feminine from the outset, not merely unisexual.  A smart,
stylish cut at least, it was plenty long enough for that.  And
blonde with platinum highlights.  Yes, just a bit trampy, implying
he could be a fun girl, given the right partner.  I'd always wanted
a girlfriend like that.

Doreen got as excited as I was.

"And he agreed to all that, really?  You are a clever one, Amanda! 
All right, I'll clear my schedule for Tuesday, day after tomorrow,
and we'll do everything all at once.  You won't know him."

"I hope not," I replied, buoyed up by her enthusiasm.  "That's the
idea.  He shouldn't know himself, either.  I want him thinking he's
someone else, someone feminine, so he can enjoy his new life while
he's got it."

"We can take care of that too, honey, in a way.  There's this
little pill my doctor recommended when I was picking fights with my
boyfriend all the time for no reason at all and he was getting
ready to break up with me.  A really effective tranquilizer.  It
slowed him down and mellowed him out so nicely that afterward even
when I treated him like dirt he didn't seem to mind.  Your Scottie
will love the way it feels, at least until he gets used to his new
look.  They're relaxing.  Lots of my customers use them now when
they come in for lengthy procedures, so they won't get impatient or
bored.  Then whatever I do seems actually seems fascinating, they
really get into it.  We'll see how your Scottie likes them.  How
many piercings?"

"I think just one for each ear lobe for now.  Go slow at first.  But
a sleeper that sparkles, that draws attention to his face."

"Don't worry, with the hairdo I'll give him he'd stop traffic even
with no earrings or make-up at all.  Oh, yes, permanent make-up,
save him bother when he doesn't want to dress up but needs to look
decent?

"I don't know, Doreen.  This is only for the summer.  But I don't
want anything he can wipe off.  He needs to know that this is it,
this is what he is, this is how he looks, go with it.  For the
summer anyhow."

"Oh, Amanda, you know that short of tattooing, no permanent makeup
is permanent.  I mean, even plucked eyebrows grow out eventually. 
I've got a new product I can use.  I'll give him a break --
eye liner, and a tint on his lips, and a touch of shadow on his
lids, so he'll always look decent even first thing in the morning,
even before he gets up and puts on his make-up for the day.  You'll
be glad, if you're tempted to a morning quickie with the girl you
find in bed with you, because he'll look pretty and it won't smear. 
And if he forgets his face altogether when he goes out he'll still
look like one of us."

That sounded reasonable.  If his face always looked made up, he'd
get accustomed to it and not give it a second thought, except when
he was gilding the lily by adding more.  And if he suspected
anything he couldn't revenge himself by going out male to cheat on
me.  Yes.  With no place to hide, he'd be committed.  "OK," I told
her.  "Great.  Whatever."

"Great!  He'll love it!  No other piercings?  Not on his nipples? 
No ring through his you know what?"

A ring through his you know what?  For what?  To lead him around by
a leash?  That amused me.  "No, that won't be necessary, Doreen. 
He's already promised to do whatever I tell him for the next three
months, and he's a man of his word.  A woman of his word I suppose,
now." 

"A woman?  Well, there'll be no mistaking him for anything else
when I'm finished with him.  You do know that my stylings are
classics, always fashionable.  They last.  Most women like them so
well they keep them for the rest of their lives.  He just might
decide to do that.  Do you have other plans for him too?  Our new
lady friend?"  Her voice now got mischievous.  "Do you mean to
bitch him?"

Bitch him?  Oh, that!  "Not right now, no.  We'll see," I answered
automatically.  It wouldn't hurt to think about it, maybe work
toward it, it occurred to me.  Scott might be willing eventually,
if I made it seem that he'd already agreed to it.  It was what
women do, after all, get fucked by men.  I smiled.  Craig would
never consent to such a thing.  He was utterly uptight about his
manhood, and with good reason -- he had more of it than he could
manage as it was!  He'd hated it when I'd slid my finger into his
ass, and that's why I was determined to use a dildo on him next
time, he'd hate that even more.  I wanted to goad him into an
outright refusal, that would score one for me, though the chances
were he'd cooperate in order to deny me that triumph.  The same way
I was committed to doing everything he wanted whether I wanted to
or no.  I even looked forward to it!  But Craig wouldn't consent to
bringing in a third party, male or female.  That wasn't in the
deal.

But I did want to dildo-fuck Craig at least once, to try to
humiliate him.  Scottie certainly, so he could know how a woman
feels with a man in her.  No doubt I'd begin his penetration with
my smallest dildo and then work up gradually into a decent size. 
That way he'd be reliving the experience of girls who become
sexually active at puberty, when boys still have little cocks, who
then take in bigger and bigger through their adolescence as the
boys grow up.  I could use the occasion to teach him how to douche,
how to stay sweet-smelling down there.  Yes!

Then when he's gotten to like it maybe actually mate him to another
man?  To a real man, I mean?  Let him feel a real cock inside
himself?  Well, that would take more thought.  If he gets into a
bitchy mood and needs to be put down properly, maybe.  Or as a
reward?

"Bitch him?  We'll see," I repeated.  "Oh, yes, and Doreen, would
you schedule him for a long session every Saturday afternoon from
now on, till the end of the summer?  Tell him you need to redo his
hair or his nails, or give him a facial, whatever?  I'll want to
know exactly where he is all of every Saturday afternoon."

"Certainly," Doreen said.  "I have a new warm oil skin treatment
that takes a few hours easily.  No problem.  We'll pamper your dear
man!  Most of my women doze through it, and then they're delighted
when they wake up to find their skin is as soft and smooth as
butter.  You'll both love it!  But Amanda, why do you want him in
some known place every Saturday?  Are you thinking of being
naughty?"

I had to smile at that.  A woman has no secrets from her
hairdresser.  "No, Doreen, I'm not thinking about it, not any
more."

"Oh?"  Here was real dishy dirt, and Doreen's voice got intimate
and excited.  "How wonderful!  Who's the guy?"

Not yet.  "You don't know him yet," I said.  Maybe she and her
boyfriend would be interested in a threesome or foursome some time? 
It might be a way to get at Craig.  Use him up quickly, then use
the other man real slow while Craig watches and gnashes his teeth
at his impotence?  Worth considering.  No, Craig would never
consent even to voyeuristic titillation -- this was a war between
him and me strictly.  

I cut her off with "Oh dear, Doreen, well, we'll talk about this
another time, I have to run, bye!" and hung up.  

I had to smile though.  Now Doreen was in on the conspiracy.  Now
she knew enough to enjoy feminizing Scott for me, for my sake.  So
she'd really put her heart and imagination into her makeover
session with him.  My poor Scottie will end up just gorgeous!

Yes, that would be his name as a girl.  It was cute, and every time
I use it for the rest of our lives, it'll remind both of us of this
little excursion he's making.  And remind me of my fling with
Craig.

When I got downstairs, there was Scottie making a third batch of
waffles, the other two with maple syrup and sausages already on the
table.  My housecoat was a little tight on him -- well, no matter,
he'll soon have one of his own, I was thinking -- but it flowed
beautifully from his slim hips.  "You look nice, honey," I
reassured him.  "But you won't want to come down to breakfast
without wearing a little make-up too.  Like me right now, just a
faint touch of lipstick and mascara for your own morale for when
you look in the mirror.  I'm arranging to make that part of it easy
for you,  OK?"

"You're really serious about this, aren't you?" he replied,
glancing up at me and studying my face, seeing that it was true, I
was wearing make-up he'd never previously noticed.  Good, I was
thinking.  He needs to get self conscious about when and when not
and how much.  Now he'll study every woman's make-up for every
conceivable situation, and learn accordingly.  The way we all did
when we were teenagers.  Still do I suppose.

"I'm quite serious," I said.  "You'll see.  Aren't you serious
about it?"

"I guess."

"Honey, guessing won't cut it!  You'll need to want it!  For the
next three months, I want you to throw yourself into it the way you
throw yourself into all your other projects.  Totally!"

"Those are research projects, Mandy," he said mildly.  "They're for
advancing human knowledge, or at least satisfying my curiosity
about things.  This is something else."

"You've never been curious about how things are on my side of the
street?  Well, you'd better begin to be!  Think of it as a research
project.  You can't?"

"I guess I can," he replied.  His face took on the speculative,
abstracted look I'd seen before when he was deep into one or
another of his things.  I waited.  It would be better all around if
he could find his own reasons for doing what I'd worked out for
him.  He suddenly came to and began to speak rapidly.  "Yes, I can. 
Maybe there's a book in it.  Not a best seller, maybe, but
provocative in a twisted way.  It's a novel way to study gender
differentiation and discrimination in our culture.  I remember
there was a man back in the sixties who pretended to be black in
order to study racial discrimination at first hand, and wrote a
book about it called 'Black Like Me.'  This could be research for
"A Girl Like Me," maybe.  I'd do everything I usually do, go where
I usually go, but look and act like a woman to see how people treat
me.  That might work if I can disguise myself well-enough."

I had mixed feelings about this.  His enthusiastic cooperation
would make this process much easier.  But I didn't want him merely
looking like a woman, deliberately imitating one but remaining
himself.  I wanted him feeling like one, as unlike the man I
married as he could get, as unlike the man I was fucking too, at
least while this thing between me and Craig held strong.  I wanted
him so emasculated in his own mind as well as mine that he wouldn't
figure as a man in either.  So I'd have no inhibitions about sex
with Craig even if my Scottie came to know about it.  Even if he
were there watching us!  

Still, this was more than the half-a-loaf I'd have settled for.  I
decided to take this one day at a time, as I'd been doing.

"You've got a lot to learn, Scottie dear," I said laconically. 
"And the first thing will be to enjoy feeling different.  Today
we'll relax into it.  As soon as you've cleared away here, go
upstairs and take a shower and shave yourself everywhere.  Not your
eyebrows, we'll shape them later, but everywhere else.  Yes, your
family jewels too.  I want you to feel like a little boy again down
there, not at all like a man."  

He raised an eyebrow but nodded.  

I gave it further thought.  "I mean, I want you to feel like a
little girl!  Or better yet, like a young woman, a pretty young
woman who feels shy about her femininity because it's all so new. 
So do a Bikini shave too, but leave a teeny patch of hair around
your clit.  Starting now you're a pretty girl.  You're not my
husband!  Starting now I have no husband."  

It felt good saying that, as long as I knew it wasn't literally
true.  But Scottie's eyes widened and his shoulders flinched ever
so slightly.  Good, that was gratifying, it sounded real enough to
hurt him!  I loved it, that response!  He loved me!  I'd be
depending on that love during the next few months.  Really testing
it!

"I love you, sweetheart, never forget that.  But if this is to work
you can't be my husband.  You can be my sister, or better still, my
dearest girlfriend."  I smiled.  "My lesbian lover.  Because I
still want to have sex with you."

He looked relieved.  After a moment he said.  "All right, Mandy,
whatever it is you're doing, whatever you need, I'll do it.  I
don't want to lose you.  I want you to be happy."

I couldn't help it, I rushed straight into his arms at that, and we
held each other tight for the longest time, and neither of us could
say anything.  But slowly my mind returned, and even as we stood
there hugging each other I found myself thinking, maybe that's not
a bad idea, Scottie writing a book about it.  That way he'll have
to keep a journal, and I'll know how things are going with him by
reading it now and then.

We broke apart, and I then spoke more gently to my marvelous
Scottie.  More reassuringly.  "You'll use my depilatory, the pink
'Nair' on my side of the cabinet, which is now your side of the
cabinet too.  Spread it on and after about fifteen minutes shower
it off.  Then take a nice hot soak with my Lilac bath oil and pat
yourself dry, no rubbing, treat your skin from now on with
delicacy, remember.  Oh, and the whole time, honey, sing or talk to
yourself in a falsetto voice -- once it feels comfortable we'll
lower it a little, and then it'll sound quite convincingly feminine
I'm sure.  Tell yourself over and over, 'I'm Mandy's girlfriend
Scottie!'  Just keep repeating that in the sweetest voice you can
find.  Then I'll come up to help you powder yourself, and then
we'll begin your 'Girlhood 101' seminar for today, basic makeup,
posture, movement, and clothes."  

Clothes would be an issue.  His shoulders and arms were wider than
mine -- sleeveless styles would be out until he's lost some weight. 
But he can wear my things otherwise, we're about the same size. 
Yes.  And we'll supplement them tomorrow with items that will match
the way I want him to look, not ditzy but a little bewildered,
respectable but still a little daring, borderline brazen.  And
whatever else, I must shake that masculine self-confidence of his
even while I encourage his pride in his femininity.  Maybe I'll
take a few days off to get him started, things are slow now at the
office.  We'll see.

When I went upstairs a while later Scottie was standing stark naked
in front of my bureau, one drawer open, doubtfully fingering a pair
of lace panties.  

"That's exactly right, honey," I told him.  "From now on, this is
your life.  Here, maybe this bra will fit you until you can get
your own, and those panties will do just fine.  Tomorrow we'll
shop, so you can be properly dressed for Doreen on Tuesday.  That's
when you have your very first beauty salon appointment."

"I have an appointment with Doreen?" he asked, surprised.  "Your
hairdresser?"  His voice was a little flutey, but it was already
better than Minnie Mouse's.  I loved it.  Craig's was a rich,
growling baritone.  For manly authority, Scottie's voice was
already no competition, out of the running!

"Your hairdresser now too, baby," I replied.  "And then some. 
Surely you don't want to walk around town in a dress and lipstick
looking the way you do now, do you?"

Actually, he didn't look too bad.  I looked him over carefully,
seeing him this way for the first time.  Utterly hairless now, with
a slim figure and a relatively small face for a man.  I loved that
face.  Not much muscle, especially compared to Craig, who worked
out and was a hunk.  Scott could lie on top of me with his full
weight without crushing me, even when we were doing it doggie
style.  Unlike Craig, who had to do pushups while pushing into me,
and had gotten a severe muscle cramp fucking my ass doggie style,
because I'd refused to let him rest his body on my back.  I smiled
secretly and shook my head to clear it of that memory.  Scottie was
a trifle thick around the middle for a girl, but a few days away
from fries and fried things would tend to that.  He really would
come out lovely!  

It was then that I began wondering how he'd look with a few real
curves on his body.  Temporary curves maybe, but still, enough to
fill out his hips and his rear end.  And his chest of course.  He
needed something hanging from his chest.  Enough at least to fill
a bra.  Glue-on prosthetic breasts?  That would deprive us of
nipple play when we were in bed.  I was looking forward to certain
lesbian-like relationships with him, and I knew he had erotic
sensitivities in that region.  Temporary implants?  So he'd always
be aware of their weight, of what he was?  Maybe.

I didn't regret them, but my original reasons for emasculating
Scottie had been shameful and I knew it.  Now I was glad to see a
decent reason beginning to overshadow the others.  I realized that
I now wanted to see my Scottie given the most attractive woman's
appearance possible not just from any animosity I might feel that
he made me feel guilty for betraying him, not just so he'd seem
ridiculously effeminate in my eyes, no competition with Craig, but
from simple good will.  Since he was going to be a woman for a few
months, he should look his best and enjoy it.  I wanted my lovely
Scottie to look and feel lovely!

"No, I guess not," Scottie said.

I'd been looking him over so intently, thinking about curves, that
I'd forgotten what he was agreeing to.  "You guess not what?" I
asked.  I reluctantly put away my mental image of my naked Scottie
flaunting new ripe tits and a rounded ass.

"I don't want to walk around town wearing a dress and lipstick," he
replied.  "Not at all.  Certainly not looking the way I do."

"No of course not, baby," I replied.  "I'd never ask you to do
that.  But you won't mind wearing a dress and lipstick after
Doreen's done with you!  Believe me!  Even in jeans and a T-shirt,
you'll be gorgeous.  Men will be falling all over their feet to
open doors for you."

Scottie grinned at that notion.  Then more seriously he asked,
"Have I choice, Mandy?"

I grinned back.  "No, honey.  This is what I want.  You're a love
to agree to it.  An absolute darling.  I'll never forget it, never! 
We'll both be the better for it.  So put on those panties you're
holding and let's see how your bra fits.  I love your voice, but
now let's just lower it a bit more until it begins to crack, then
hold it there."

"Here?"  He sounded like an old crone.  A witch.  I was amused.

"There would be fine, with a little more sweetness added in."

"I feel foolish, Mandy."

"No, now you sound lovely, not at all foolish.  Here, let's fill
your bra with these old shoulder pads of mine until we can work out
some other way to enhance your girlish figure....  There, good
enough.  And this blouse and skirt and these sandals....  Now fluff
your hair a little after you brush it down.  See how I do mine? ...
There you are!  Not yet ready for the cover of Cosmo, but you'll
do, honey!"  

For my purposes anyhow, I thought.  It might have been better for
me if he had looked a little ridiculous.  But he didn't.  Rather,
his improvised look was pleasantly androgynous.  This will be easy,
I said to myself.  He'll look much prettier than Mort when Doreen
is finished with him.

We spent the rest of the day doing make-up and movement lessons. 
Scottie soon mastered elementary eye shadow and advanced lip liner,
and he practiced sitting, standing, walking, and reaching for
things with his legs together, elbows close to the body, wrists
cocked back with fingers extended but curved, all of the things
girls learn from each other without even noticing.  I taught him
how to look casually feminine, comfortable, how to sit with his
thighs together but his calves splayed wide apart.  It took time --
men's joints don't bend like women's -- but he looked really cute
when he finally mastered it.  He said he felt foolish during much
of what we did, but as with all other things he diligently studied
and practiced until he looked and behaved altogether natural, to
the manner born.  Wait till Doreen sees what she has to work with,
I exulted to myself!  Only one day, and my Scottie is a doll!  I do
love him!

All the while we talked girl talk.  I wanted him to feel
comfortable chatting with other women, the way Mort was, not
chivalrous and faintly flirtatious as usual but friendly, open,
delighted to listen and eager to share.  We talked about make-up,
clothes, recipes -- Scott was a fine cook, nothing for him to learn
there -- but mostly people.  Mostly relationships.  Eventually the
conversation turned to guys.  I saw to it.

"Must we?" Scottie asked when I raised the subject by asking if
there were any interesting fellas who worked at the small college
where he taught, men who might seem interested in him.  "I get very
uncomfortable talking about other men's personal lives."

"I should hope so," I replied.  "I would too if I were a man.  But
I'm a woman."  And pointedly I added, "Like you!  And women love to
talk about how men feel about them!"

He looked chastened.  

"Here's a lecture, your style.  We gossip about four kinds of men,"
I said.  "Married and unmarried, interesting and uninteresting, in
In all four combinations of these things.  For instance, there's
this supplier I deal with.  He's quite handsome, an ex football
player I think, and the secretaries send messages back and forth to
each other whenever he's in the building.  You know, he has a huge
ego and vast self-confidence, flirts even when he doesn't mean it,
and makes everything he says a challenge calling for a clever
come-back.  He's already slept with one of the married women in our
office, and who knows how many more would if they could.  If they
thought they could handle him."  

I must have looked especially satisfied as I said that, because
Scottie said nothing.  He just looked at me.  A mistake?  I moved
quickly to cover myself.  "I'm convinced that he's nowhere near as
good as he thinks he is.  Are there any men where you work who
sleep around?  Any women?"

"Some," Scottie said.  "Some unmarried colleagues date
undergraduates, though they aren't supposed to.  Some girls collect
them, and some would rather seduce them than study.  But mostly my
unmarried colleagues date each other, or they see people in town. 
Some married colleagues do too I'm afraid."

"Among your faculty do men date men, and women date women?  Or do
they keep to the more usual arrangements?"

"All four kinds of arrangements, as you say, in different
combinations," Scott said, amused. 

"And you haven't?"

"Of course not, Mandy.  I'm married.  I have all the woman I can
handle right here, especially right now!  I don't want any others."

That was a reassuring, a marvelous compliment.  I should have felt
pleased.  But my uneasy conscience heard it as a rebuke, and I
resented it a little.  "Are you saying you're a lesbian in a firm
relationship with another woman?" I asked him tartly.  "As a woman,
shouldn't you at least try a man, see what men are like?  See if
you can attract one, or at least have fun flirting with them?"  
Doreen's suggestion rose to mind again.  Should I deliberately try
to bitch him?  Should I want to?  Would I be denying him an
experience if I didn't?  That was the first thing Cheryl did with
Mort, get him as involved with other men as she was.  Of course
that was as much for her convenience as his enjoyment.

I broke off the catechism as if it had been a mere random sampling
of girl talk.  "You see, honey, that's what women talk about,
relationships.  Other people's mostly, but sometimes our own.  It's
called gossip, and it's more fun than talking business or sports or
gadgets all day the way men do, and we find out so much more about
what makes other people tick and what we think about them.  Here,
now strip back down to your bra and let's see what other blouses I
have I can offer you.  This one should fit....  And this one too,
isn't it pretty?  Try it with a plaid skirt."

We assembled a quite respectable stack of clothing for him to wear
until we could buy him his own.  I included no slacks, because he
needed to get accustomed to skirts.  Regrettably, I thought as I
put back a pair of tight stirrup pants.  He's thin enough for pants
like these, but his tush isn't round enough to make them look
attractive.  Yet.

end 5/11
VickieTern@AOL.COM

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reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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