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From: vickietern@aol.com (VickieTern)
Subject: {ASSM} Shy by Vickie Tern 6/6 TG Femdom
Date: Thu, 23 Oct 2003 21:10:08 -0400
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Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

Shy by Vickie Tern TG Femdom 6/6

Don't read this if you shouldn't or you don't want to.  Do if you
do.  I'd appreciate knowing what you think (VickieTern@aol.com).






                               vi.

Dawn made great progress over the next few days.  We called on one
of our brains, a guy named Darryl who'd was doing a Master's in
psych, and Darryl gave him an all-day hypno-therapy session,
auto-suggestion treatments aimed at enhancing whatever he imagined
girls feel when they're excited by being with guys.  We had to
break down any irrelevant aversion he might have to getting groped
by a guy.  And it worked better than anyone dreamed!  His mind
became putty!  Once he got into this trance he flounced in and out
of whatever room he was in whenever one of us called him, each time
moving as graciously as a princess.  

So we went further.  Darryl told him he really was a girl, and we
set him up that night with two guys.  One of them was Gary, Kevin's
bisexual partner, the one with the impressive prick.  Gary told us
afterward that Sally was doing incredible dildo work with him, that
he'd never been inside such a distended asshole.  Then we sent him
down the hall to visit with a musician who played an acoustic
guitar and wrote folk songs, a guy so far out of it he thought Dawn
really was a girl.  He wrote a song about it, something about how
sweet her hair and head looked, bobbing beneath his belly.  That's
the only line I remember.

Now Dawn had done it all and didn't even know it.

So back to Darryl for debriefing and gradual awakening, and further
hypnotic conditioning.  It had been a risk, but it worked.  Easier
than expected.  Darryl figured Dawn was probably bisexual down
under, like lots more guys than you'd think.  Maybe even latent gay
-- after all, except for his sessions with Sally he'd never
confirmed his heterosexuality, and what he did with Sally was more
often gay than straight.  And after all, he'd agreed to pretend to
be a girl.  So it wasn't too difficult to persuade him that getting
fucked and giving blow jobs to guys was normal behavior.  Dawn
didn't remember sucking or getting fucked by either guy the next
morning, not any of it.  But his subconscious knew what he'd done,
Darryl assured us.  When Marty made his moves on him, it would all
seem vaguely familiar and pleasurable.

So each night for the next week Sally fucked him senseless with her
dildo.  And each morning he threw up from his pills and patches. 
But what could we do about that?  His figure wouldn't be ready for
Marty before the Grunge Dawg concert, but Marty wouldn't mind, and
afterward he'd still need to look like a girl, wouldn't he?   The
more he looked like a girl, the less self-conscious he'd be when he
was with other girls, wasn't that so?  And wasn't that what our
mothers wanted for him?

He sometimes lapsed and acted not like a girl but an effeminate
man, so we tried to teach him to act like a whore with attitude. 
We taught him to move in a more limber, fluid way, to toss his
wrists and his head whenever he spoke, and to keep his legs
together and shoot one hip way out whenever he stood still.  We
contributed odds and ends of clothes to his wardrobe and then sent
him out shopping for more.  Also for jewelry.  He nodded solemnly
each time we sent him out to destroy more of his own manhood, and
once he came back proudly prancing in a pair of high-heeled fuck-me
pumps.  Another time he came back with his hair done
professionally, more or less the same style I'd chosen for him, but
trimmed neater, clinging closer to his neck and easier to pin up
for a more formal look.  He was a knockout.  And he took real
pleasure in that fact.  His eyes sparkled when we admired each new
item he acquired to enhance his new life.

He started talking to us and our friends, even to our guys, with no
self-consciousness at all.  Easy and gracious.  I had to think
about that for a while, and I finally decided it was because he
wasn't being himself.  And that, I realized, had been his problem. 
Being himself.  He'd been a dork.  I'd never liked him, no one had
ever liked him, and he'd agreed with us, he didn't like himself
either.  He'd try to put himself forward and make friends, but with
no self-confidence he'd withhold himself too, so he'd end up
paralyzed and tongue-tied.  

Beth talked with him some, and then explained it all to the rest of
us.  His Dad had been his only parent for some years, and his Dad
was a tough man who'd made all sorts of demands on him no small kid
could possibly handle.  So his Dad was always disappointed, and his
little son knew it.  He grew up with no self-esteem, is the way
Beth put it.  When my Aunt Tracy married his father she managed to
take the pressure off him, but it was too late.  When he got into
his teens he couldn't handle being a guy, being feisty, competing
with other guys, taking all the initiatives guys have to take and
assuming all the responsibilities.  Or thinking he had to be and do
all those things, you know guys.  He'd never even once called a
girl for a date -- he just couldn't.  And he was such a dweeb no
girl had ever schemed to get him to call her the way girls do, and
of course no girl had called him directly.  So he'd never gone out
with a girl.  Not once.  How sad can it get?

But now with our help he had lots of girlfriends.  It was easy for
him to be sociable, witty, delightful, once he felt himself
accepted by other girls as a girl.  Especially as our girl, clever
and loved and appreciated.  Guys started to stop by to chat with
him after class, and he began to enjoy it.  Sally told me that he'd 
begun to raise his hand in class and ask or answer questions
easily, and that once he'd even gotten up the nerve to disagree
with a Professor.  He did it sweetly, in that flute-like voice he'd
cultivated, and he was wrong as the professor explained to him
gently, but he was nevertheless proud afterward that he'd spoken
up.  So as far as I was concerned, he was cured. I'd done my thing
as asked, and my mother and my aunt ought to be altogether
satisfied when they found out.  My mother had made it plain that
she didn't want to know how I did it, and she'd put no restrictions
on how I did it.  "Just do it!" -- those were her words.

And as a bonus I now had these Grunge Dawg tickets.  I invited a
stud Elvira had broken in beautifully, a tireless hulk who loved
good music and knew how to service a girl's body all night, who
really got off on both!  And me and my guy and Gail and her guy and
Dawn and Marty smoked a little pot and then went to the concert. It
was terrific!  We all had a ball!  Later on too!  All of us!

Marty it turned out was one incredible person, a large, handsome
Ken doll, muscular, tender, real buff.  And a beautiful person too,
polite and witty, everything any girl dreams about, except for this
one thing about him, that he liked girls only as friends, and that
he liked only guys as sex partners.  

He and Dawn hit it off immediately!  Dawn may have been a
stuttering creep as a guy, but he was a fabulous girl
conversationally, comfortable in any role that was not him.  And
comfortable to be a girl in other ways too, even though his
hormones hadn't yet had time to do more than smooth out a few rough
places in his skin.  They teased each other a little, and then for
Marty it got serious almost immediately!  He'd never met a guy like
Dawn before, and he was absolutely smitten!  He wrapped both his
arms around him during some of the slow numbers, and while they
listened they swayed back and forth together dreamy, as if they
were one body.

Which they later became.  We went to a disco bar afterward and
smoked a little more, and then we split off.  My date was fabulous
-- I  made a note to myself to run anyone I ever sleep with again
through Elvira's School for Stud Muffins first.  Gail was already
engaged to her guy, our Webster College team captain, so there was
nothing special at all about the way they spent the time smooching,
then disappeared together.  But I was still a little surprised when
Dawn went off with Marty and then never came home that night at
all.  Not even the following morning, when my guy finally left my
room, leaving me absolutely exhausted from all the orgasms he'd
given me, amazed that I'd survived the really towering ones.  I
finally got a few hours sleep.

I opened my eyes some time that afternoon, I could tell by the
sun's shadows on the wall.  It was like awakening a couple of weeks
ago, all over again, nearly.  Because there at the foot of my bed
was Don, Dawn I mean this time, this lovely girl with sparkling
eyes and a secret smile on her face, beaming down at me.  Her hair
was a little disheveled and her make-up was almost gone, but she
still had mysterious shadows slathered around her eyes.  She was
still wearing the tight girls' stretch jeans she'd bought for her
big date, the kind that snug into your crack and leave no doubt
there's a twat underneath -- we'd had to haul Dawn's cock and balls
way back between his legs and hold them there with duct tape to
give him the kind of crotch he needed to fit them.  But right off
I saw that this girl's package was bulging there despite the
elastic in the jeans.  Only then did I realize she wasn't a girl at
all, she was still Dawn, and that some time during the night the
duct tape had been decreed unnecessary.  She was glowing!  Dawn, I
had to remind myself as I stared at his crotch, is a boy.  She's a
boy we made into a girl.  And that's what he is now.  Isn't he?

I no longer knew what he was.  I'm not sure he did either.

When he saw I was at last awake he smiled.  "No, I'm not in trouble
this time," he said, anticipating my first question.

"No?" I asked.  "You're not engaged?  Like with Sally?"

"Oh yes!" he replied.  "Oh yes!  I am!  He's wonderful.  I wanted
you to be the first to know.  And to thank you for everything
you've done for me!"

I came fully awake.  "Dawn," I said.  "Look here.  You've slept
with him.  With Marty.  Well, good!  It's no surprise, I think you
know that by now.  I've heard he's really terrific in bed if you're
a guy and not a girl.  But that doesn't mean you have to marry him! 
If every girl married every boy she ever slept with, she'd have to
hire a hotel to live in with them all!  Lots of girls would,
anyhow.  I would!"

"No, Jennifer.  You don't understand.  I mean we're engaged, really
engaged!  Sure I slept with him, but Sally's been explaining to me
for days now, fucking is just something people do to enjoy
themselves together.  It isn't like living your life together.  But
with Marty it's different.  It feels so much different!  This
morning he proposed and I accepted.  He's wonderful!  I'm so
happy!"

"Dawn, Marty's a nice guy and all, but you hardly know him!"  My
God listen to me!  Every daughter really does end up sounding like
her mother!  I should shoot myself before it gets any worse!

"I know one thing, Jen," Dawn replied with an almost religious
solemnity.  "We're two of a kind.  Yes, we love each other, but it
seems too that we were made for each other.  Body and soul, we're
a perfect fit, Marty and me.  We discovered that last night."

I knew exactly what he meant, and just lay there silent.  What
could anyone say to that?  Then "Does Sally know yet?"

"No.  But she's been telling me for days now that once I know I'm
a girl we can't be lovers any more.  Because she isn't a lesbian. 
And girls should have boys as lovers.  That's why she was using
those dildoes on me.  To help me decide."

"And you've now decided.  You're a girl."
 
"Yes.  I've suspected it ever since you introduced me to Darryl and
he gave me those relaxing exercises.  I don't know, but after those
sessions I began to get such delicious feelings about boys.  Funny
feelings, funny imaginations, as if I'd already ...."  

"Yes, I know how it is," I said.  "I'm a girl too, remember?"  I
decided I'd better change the subject before Daryll's methods rose
up out of Dawn's subconscious and explained to his conscious memory
that even before Marty he'd already been fucked by a real guy, and
already sucked off a real cock.  "When will you tell your folks?" 

Should I tell my mother first, I was wondering, before he tells
his?  Ask her to ease the shock?  No, this was her doing too, in a
way.  Better to let Dawn handle it her way.  Don, I mean.  His way. 
Whatever.

"About the engagement?  Soon, I guess.  But maybe not till next
summer.  I'll transfer to State and be Marty's steady girl there,
and we'll announce our engagement to the world when he graduates,
and then I'll finish my degree wherever he finds a job, and then
we'll get married.  All very proper and sensible.  But I mean,
first things first.  Remember, my mother doesn't know yet how
College life has changed me.  My folks still think I'm a shy boy,
afraid ever to say or do anything.  Because that's what I was.  And
now, thanks to you, look at me."

"That's what I'm doing," was all I could say,

"I mean, now I love who I am!  I'm not afraid of anything! 
Especially now.  And I owe it all to you!"

Jesus!  After his mother burns up the wires to my mother, I was
thinking, I'll be grounded for life!  Called home from College and
tossed into a dungeon and left to rot!  Even though I never asked
for this assignment, and I only did the best I could when my mother
forced it on me.  This is so unfair!  But it had been fun!

"I think you should take full credit for your own happiness, Dawn,"
I said soberly and slowly.  "This is all your choice and your
achievement.  I don't think you should mention me at all when you
talk to your folks.  Especially when you talk to your mother or my
mother!"  

Dawn was reluctant, but he finally nodded.  "If you say so,
Jennifer.  Whatever you say!  But I know how much I owe you!  I'll
never forget!  Oh Jen, he's so wonderful!"

"I'm so happy for you," was all I could say.  "But I could do with
some more sleep."  I turned over and closed my eyes, again
muttering 'Jesus!' to myself.  Dawn went off to break the news to
Sally, hoping she wouldn't be heartbroken when she heard.  She bore
up somehow.

In fact there was no problem at all with our families.  When Don
came home for Thanksgiving, Dawn I mean, his mother saw immediately
what had happened to him.  Of course, and she instantly surmised
how it had happened.  My Aunt Tracy is a lot like me -- she figures
things fast.  So for her son's sake she acted as if nothing
whatever had changed, as if she'd always had a daughter, and she
sat on Don's father so hard that he uttered not a peep the whole
time Dawn was home.  The very morning he arrived she swallowed
hard, then suggested ways for him to use his makeup more subtly,
and she praised the little gray cardigan he was wearing over his
silk blouse.  At that point they both broke down and cried, and
then had a real mother-daughter heart-to-heart.  Before he returned
to Webster to finish the semester she'd introduced him to her
gynecologist, who put him on milder hormones so he could preserve
erectile functioning for Marty's sake, even while still growing
breasts genuine enough to take suspicion away from Marty forever. 
And she introduced him to her hairdresser, who gave him a cute,
trouble-free layered shag better fitted to his face than the hairdo
I'd devised.  Mine had done its work.  And Marty liked short hair
on her.

My mother said nothing at all to me all through that whole
Thanksgiving, just looked at me oddly now and then.  But finally,
after coming back from a visit to her sister, she sat me down and
then spoke carefully to me.  "I just saw Don.  He seems happy
enough.  He gets on well with all sorts of girls, I hear.  And he
says he's grateful to you and your roommates for taking him in. 
You did take him in, didn't you?"  

I replied equally carefully, "Dawn, you mean.  Yes, we did.  And
yes, she's very happy now, I think.  And yes, she does get on well
with girls.  Guys too."

My mother considered the matter further.  Then she said suddenly,
"Jen, do you think, if I tell you that I've set aside money enough
for you to buy a small car you can take back to college, do you
think you can manage to buy a small car and not an elephant or a
bus or a whole railroad train?" 

Oh my God!  "I'm sure of it, Mom," I said.  "Oh, Mom!"

And then we had a mother-daughter hugging session of our own,
crying with joy and appreciation and love the whole time.  And we
never again said another word to each other about what I'd done to
Dawn.

Everything else went as expected.  Dawn remained in our suite the
whole rest of that year, a full-fledged member of our Sextette, and
we watched his body flower into a lovely young womanhood.  All of
it except for that massive weight of meat he kept discreetly hidden
under full skirts.  As a Sextette we borrowed each other's nail
polish and other stuff freely, the way we always did, and Dawn sent
Brian on errands for her the way we all did.  She even advised
Brian on the kinds of make-up to wear when he was servicing Elvira
-- I'd given Brian to Elvira to thank her for her contributions to
our Dawn project, and Elvira had indeed feminized him as she'd
promised.  But Dawn wasn't interested in our stables, any of them,
not even for idle amusement.  She was a proper girl, absolutely
faithful to her Marty!  Even Elvira forgave her the need to kiss
her pussy or her ass each morning -- making a boy do subservient,
humiliating things like that was just great, but it was no fun
making a girl do them.  What was the point?

Eventually I wrote this story up for Gender Studies credit, but I
only got a B minus, and I had to argue the grade up from a C,
because the professor thought I'd made the whole thing up.  Then
when I turned the same paper in again for Creative Writing credit
I got an even lower grade because the professor didn't think I'd
made "the fantasy" seem plausible.  Talk about unfair?  I couldn't
wait for Elvira to hack into Academic Records and give me the
grades I really deserved.

Dawn transferred to State at the end of the year as planned, and
she and Marty announced their engagement the year he graduated, as
planned, and Dawn's still proud that that was the year she was
elected Homecoming Queen.  

They married as planned too.  Beth's father performed the ceremony
and Dawn's Mom gave her away, her father didn't want any part of
it.  The whole original Quintette attended of course, proudly, as
Maids of Honor.  Dawn was demure yet sexy in figure-hugging white
satin, figure-hugging because her breasts and bum had come in
gloriously and Marty was proud to show them off, and white because
she still thought she'd been a virgin until Grunge Dawg night, so
she still assumed she was marrying her first and only boy friend. 
Though we all knew that if she'd in fact been a virgin that night,
she might still be one.  I wore shocking pink of course.  Elvira
wore a black leather mini and thigh-high boots, and after the
reception dinner she departed with two male guests in tow, one of
them another dreary cousin of mine she thought she could put to
good use.  Maybe she'll straighten him out, I was thinking as they
left.  Maureen brought her brother, who turned out to be a living
doll!  In a way, I was thinking, he's more responsible for all this
than any of us -- he was our original inspiration.  But who can
tell? 

Dawn loves her life now, and I'm proud to say I helped her find it. 
Without me he'd still be Don, probably one more shy, stuttering,
underpaid accountant, married to some mousy reject of a woman who
never combs her hair, watches soap operas all day, and nags him all
night.  But after we separated her from her former self Dawn was
able to develop marvelous social skills, and she soon moved up in
the world.  Trading on his football fame, Marty became a luxury car
salesman, and he now owns three dealerships.  He knows what I did
for Dawn, and he's told me repeatedly that I'll never have to pay
for a car as long as I live.  Though to tell the truth, I still
prefer the little Honda my mother bought me -- it slips easily
between and around all sorts of obstacles to get where it's going,
and I like that.  As Marty's wife, Dawn is now hostess to some of
the state's most powerful people, and she leads a fashionable and
glamorous life.  She's even getting into politics, elected to the
local city council and so on, that kind of thing.  She may some day
end up governor!  

At least that's what Sally tells me, and Sally's a frequent guest
in their home, so she should know.  Marty also appreciates
everything Sally did for his wife during that first crucial couple
of weeks, and he wants her to share in their happiness, especially
when he's away on business and Dawn gets lonely.  So Sally still
visits them whenever she wishes.  She still sometimes plays living
dildo with Dawn's cock, pushing it up into herself as deep as she
can and marveling that Marty is right, that it feels as good as
ever.  She no longer thrusts her own dildo up Dawn's ass -- that's
Marty's area exclusively, and she respects the sanctity of marriage. 
But Dawn still loves to play lickety split with Sally's pussy all
night, and she gets lots of opportunities.  

At least that's what Sally tells me.  So that's what I'm telling
you.  You can believe me or not.  Believe all of it or none of it
for that matter, not just the part about how happy things turned
out for Dawn.  But if like my professors you think none of this
ever really happened, you really need to ask yourself, could I
possibly have made all this up?

End

(c) 2003, by Vickie Tern.  May be copied to free archives freely.

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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