index


Message-ID: <47181asstr$1079759403@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: vickietern@aol.com (VickieTern)
Subject: {ASSM} Wife by Vickie Tern 10/13 TG femdom
Lines: 505
Date: Sat, 20 Mar 2004 00:10:03 -0500
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

An Unfaithful Wife
by Vickie Tern


10/13



"No breast forms?" I asked.  "No stuffing?  You said I need tits,
didn't you?"

"No," she said.  "No breast forms for you.  I want to cop a feel of
your nipples whenever I feel like it, and I want you to love the
feeling every time.  Even when it happens in public.  You'll prefer
access too.  Your nipples are very sensitive.  We don't want to
cover them with padding."

I couldn't argue.  I loved the delicate touch of her fingertips on
my nipples.  The previous night's play had been heaven.

"Won't I look a little flat-chested then?" I asked.  Having finally
agreed to be her girl as well as her husband, I felt relieved of
the burden of choice.  I felt lighthearted.  "Doesn't a plain Jane
like me need to offer the world unquestionable evidence that I'm a
girl so they won't wonder if I'm really a boy in drag? 
Unquestionable evidence such as tits?"

"Be patient, honey.  They'll be there, sooner than you think."

Something in her tone of voice stopped me.  She wasn't jesting. 
She was serious.  I looked at her.

"Sweetheart, you just said it.  'Whatever it takes.'  And 'I want
what you want.'  And you meant it, I know you did.  I hope so now
with all my heart."

"Yes," I said.  "I did.  And I do mean it."  Here comes something
serious, I was thinking.  The room suddenly seemed still.  Neither
of us moved.

"Your tits are on the way.  You're looking at them now.  You're
feeling them whenever I touch your nipples.  They're growing larger
and more sensitive every day, your nipples and your breasts too."

I looked down.  It was true.  The bra Cassie'd given me had shaped
and contained and thrust forward into small mounds what I'd thought
was flab.   It wasn't.  My bra cups were full, and what I'd thought
was flab wasn't anywhere elsewhere evident on my chest -- my bra
cups contained all of it.  It hadn't been flab but breasts.

"I'm growing breasts," I said.  My voice sounded too deep for a
statement like that.

Cassie looked at me, quiet, not quite tense, and nodded.  "Yes, you
are," she said.

"How?" I asked.  

"It came to me when you first started sucking off Mr. D, as one
more way you could become what you were ashamed and yet pleased to
imagine you were.  The cum you've been swallowing contains female
hormones.  The more cum you've been willing to swallow, the more
female hormones you've absorbed.  Each squirt of Mr. D's cock and
Jerry's has been laced with estrogen and progestin.  Lots.  You've
been willingly swallowing several doses daily for months, and
taking more into your ass too, using Jerry's prick as a
high-colonic suppository.  You're already on your second gallon of
Jerry's cum you know.  Sometimes for fun I've filled my vagina with
it for you, and you've licked that out too.  If you'd wanted to be
a gay man with your lovers, that would have been different.  But
you haven't been a gay man.  You've been a girl.  More of a girl
than you realized."  

I sat silent.  Then, as quietly as I could ask, "Cassie, why?"

"You know why, sweetie.  I've told you over and over.  Because deep
down, with all that male humiliation and pain and outrage and
betrayal you love, you really do want to undermine your own
manhood.  You're happy to be rid of it, with all its obligations
and tensions.  That's why you do the female things I tell you, why
you surrender yourself to me and your own imagined femininity.  I
want to help you make it real."

That might be true.  But it wasn't enough reason.  "You want to
help me make it real," I repeated, a little annoyed.  "Why? 
Because you love me and want me to have everything I want?  That
won't wash.  You know I don't want it as much as you want it."

"No, honey, you fear it as much as you want it.  But there's
another reason that has to do with me."

"What could that be?"  

"I've told you.  You haven't listened.  Because I love you more
than life itself and I never want to lose you, and this way we can
stay together for the rest of our lives."

"Cassie, you've said that before.  How does this keep us together?"

"Because you're marvelous.  You can change.  You have changed
already.  I can't."

"What does that mean?"

Cassie sat silent, looking at me.  Then said simply, "Honey, you're
filling a B cup now.  Your mother was a C cup, to judge by your
family pictures, so that's where you'll probably end up.  But you
and Jerry have gotten on so well lately, you've swallowed so much
of him, that you could end up a D.  You'll find all three sizes in
your underwear drawer.  From now on wear them, for decency's sake
when you're out in public.  And for your own sake too, or else in
a year or so you'll find that your boobs sag below your belly."   


She'd changed the subject.  I was feeling tricked.  I'd made
choices, true, but not this one.  Not exactly.  I had to ask one
more question.

"Honey, is this reversible?  Do I now have a choice?"

She looked at me, and said simply, "Your body's proportions are
set, sweetheart.  Those hips, that tush, those luscious curves that
already attract so much attention when you wear tight pants and
wiggle when you walk.  They're yours for life now, as long as you
watch your calories.  Your softened, feminized facial features  --
you never noticed that happening? --  the same.  There's breast
reduction surgery of course, but that could cost you your nipple
sensitivity, and I know you won't want to give that up.  So no, it
isn't reversible.  You could have been a gay man, but there came a
time to choose and you felt more comfortable as a woman, and that's
what you're becoming.  More and more."  

She still sounded tentative, as if fearful that I might do
something drastic.  "You did agree to act out feminine sexuality,
you know.  And much of what goes along with it.  You chose to go
along.  And you do love it.  You can't deny that." 

I paused and absorbed the full implications.  "This is what you
want?" I asked, staring her straight into her face.  "You arranged
this because this is what you want?"

"Yes," she said, staring straight back.  But her voice quavered.

"Because you love me?" I said.  This time my voice quavered.

"With all my heart, dearest!"  She was near tears.  The way she
said it, I couldn't doubt she meant it.  "More than life itself," 
she added.  I knew she meant that too.  

It's a sentimental cliche whenever anyone says it, but this time I
thought I might actually be holding a life in my hands.  I had to
speak very carefully.  I felt trapped and humiliated, but that
strange glow in my belly betrayed me.  Perversely, I couldn't deny
it, I was pleased.  

"Will I know some day why?" I asked.

"You know already," she replied.  "You just don't want to believe
what you know."

I couldn't deal with that.  Not at all.  Not yet.  Another long
pause.

"The cum I've tasted in you?  That wasn't some other man's after
all?"

Cassie looked slantwise at me.  "I didn't say that, darling."  

If I was willing, she intended to continue this game!  

"Well," I said.  Then silence.  I was thinking.  I was trying to
accept all this as inevitable.  What would a real man do if the
woman he loved had done this to him?  Yes, of course, but what did
I want to do?  

Preserve what I do have.  Go with it.  Maybe even enjoy the
disgrace.  Maybe even exult in it!  See what else happens!

My God!  And I once called myself a man?

I had to say it quickly or I'd never say it.  I did love her, and
she was still looking at me hopefully, but anxiously too,
frightened.

"Cassie, I can't."  Her face started to collapse, so I went on
hurriedly.  "I don't have a thing to wear.  Can you lend me a
blouse and skirt, or at least a dress for my morning session with
Jerry?  We always have breakfast together, you know, Jerry and I. 
He provides the breakfast."

"Yes," Cassie said.  "Oh, yes!  Oh, darling, yes!  Everything
you'll ever want, always!"  

And like a tidal river bursting its banks, she rushed formard and
flowed all over me, covering me with kisses.

I could only hug her back and say no more.  We stared into each
other's faces for the longest time.  Her mascara hadn't run at all,
so probably neither had mine.  I knew by her face, without looking
into a mirror, that despite all our tears I was still pretty.  To
judge by the way Cassie was looking at me at that moment, I was
radiantly beautiful.  As she certainly was.

When we'd done with kissing each other and unfolded from each
other's arms, Cassie reached into her closet and completed my
outfit with a simple flowered T shirt and a denim skirt.  "That's
good enough for Jerry," she said.  "He's only a man, men never
really notice what we're wearing anyhow." 

She was in much better humor, at last.  "Work your womanly wiles on
him, gorgeous," she told me.  "Seduce him.  I want to watch."

Jerry was now waiting for me in the guest bedroom.  His erection
when he saw me and I took it into my mouth was no larger, and his
climactic cum spurted no more profusely when I hugged him to
climax.  I swallowed it all, its hormones and my own incipient
womanhood, glancing over to where Cassie was watching.  I saw that
she saw.  This time she saw me deliberately committing myself to
womanhood, not just fantasying.  She saw I'd forgiven her.

For me it was also different.  I was no longer a feminized man
committed to self-abasement.  As I stroked and positioned that
cock, I felt more coy and more slyly calculating, and when I began
to lick its huge knob I felt oddly triumphant!  As a man I'd been
Jerry's lover only to comply with Cassie's kinky insistence that I
explore my insecurities, and I'd always been a little ashamed of
the pleasures I took from him.  Sucking Jerry's cock had been a
form of performance art,  self-enactment as a gay man or as a
compliant woman defined as myself, self-abasement for the delusive
thrill of it.  But as a woman it was different.  I was sucking him
to express my own sexuality and empowerment, to learn more about
how to manipulate men and how to appreciate them.  I granted Jerry
the privilege of intimacy with my mouth, and I enjoyed his
gratitude as it spurted down my throat. 

Cassie watched, and could tell it was different for me now. 
"You'll be perfect," she whispered as I licked the last of Jerry's
cum off my lips.  "You'll enjoy making men groan whenever you flick
your tongue.  But now, sweetheart, it's time for Jerry to give you
your very first full fuck as a woman."

I was eager to try that too.  I pulled off my bridal panties,
pulled Jerry down on top of me, and unhesitatingly guided him into
me.  There then followed a wild time!  I humped and gyrated under
him, and pushed at his hips in a mad effort to get him to fuck my
most sensitive places.  He responded to every push with a shove. 
At my peak, in full orgasm, my ass spasmed repeatedly on his long,
fat sausage as that thing squirted more estrogen cum deep into me,
into my guts.  Then I couldn't help it, I had to crush my lips
against his lips and kiss him passionately.  This beautiful man had
made me a woman!  Never mind that he wasn't real!  I loved him for
the all the pleasure he had given me -- nothing else mattered.

I was still recovering my breath when I felt Cassie hand gently
stroking my hair.  I lifted ny head to press it against her hand,
blissfully, like a petted puppy.  "You're so beautiful,
sweetheart," she said quietly.  "You're so much like me."


************


When she first advised me to wear bras so my new breasts wouldn't
sag, Cassie'd also warned me wear them for decency's sake "in
public."  That had worried me.  This transformation and the shame
and glory entailed was still a private matter.  Except for my
forgetful hip-weaving the day her bridge club met, my subjugation
and feminizing had happened privately in our own home, indoors. 
But bras and breasts are visible.  To take actual womanhood into
the streets or some other public place, to be seen as what I was
becoming, that seemed unthinkable.  

No longer.  When dinner time came around Cassie phoned for a pizza
while I prepared a salad.  Then when the pizza delivery boy came
she happened to be on the phone talking about escrows with a
client.

"You get it, honey!" she called out.

"But ...!" I began.

"You'll have to!  You're still in full make-up, and your boobs show
through the T-shirt.  You're a girl!  Just fluff your hair and
smile at him.  Make his day!"  

There was nothing for it, I pushed up my hair a few times and
opened the door, stood there boldly a moment, then took the box and
paid the boy and tipped him.  Barely glancing at me, he said,
"Thank you, ma'am!" and quickly disappeared down our walk back to
his little delivery car.  

That was my inaugural appearance in the outer world.  My maiden
voyage.

When I told Cassie, she was delighted and kissed me.  "You've been
seen!  Your first outing!  Now we need a real coming out party!"

"What do you mean?" I asked, afraid I knew just what she meant.

"You need to believe in yourself.  That you are what you're
becoming.  What you seem to be already.  The easiest way is to see
for yourself that others believe that's what you are."  She smiled. 
"That sounds complicated.  What it means is, we all grow into other
people's expectations for us, the way puppies grow into oversized
feet, and you're growing into your boobs.  When others think you're
a girl, you'll forget to feel self-conscious about it.  When it
seems normal, natural, and ordinary for everyone to think you're a
girl, that's when you'll truly believe it yourself."

There was something wrong here.  "Cassie," I said.  "I thought what
you wanted for me was humiliation, because along with it comes this
perverse joy!  Now you want me to accept all this as a
commonplace?"

"Only the feminized part of you.  I want everyone who knew you to
forget you were ever a man, and I want everyone else to assume
you're woman.  You too.  But then it won't be over, love. 
Remember, you'll still feel aroused and humiliated whenever you
suspect I'm having sex somewhere with a real man.  In fact you'll
feel all the more impotent -- if I may use the word -- when that
happens.  Because you won't even be the semblance of a real man any
more.  A real man's jealousy or indignation or anger won't be
anything you can lay claim to any more, so you'll feel all the more
helpless and deprived.  Maybe envious instead of jealous?"

That hurt.  "What do you mean, Cassie?  I'm still a real man
inside!"

"Are you, sweetie?  A real man wearing full makeup and a cute denim
skirt and a round rear and a flowered top with little mounds poking
out?  Swallowing female hormones you suck from a man's prick?  If
you were any kind of man you'd be mortified to let your wife see
you prancing and primping around the house as you do, even though
she herself first proposed it.  But you're quite at ease with it
now, aren't you.  No self-consciousness about it at all.  Isn't
that so?" 

It was so.  

"Then again, we've been sharing Jerry for how long now?  When I see
you lying under him with your legs spread wide, moaning and pumping
your hips at him frantically, do you think I think you're a real
man at that moment?  You've rounded a corner, honey.  You shouldn't
be ashamed to be thought a woman any more.  The man in you may have
been ashamed -- all that threatened male ego!  I wanted to get you
past that, and you seem to be.  Now that you're persuaded you're a
woman, or becoming one, you've got no real manhood left to defend,
do you?"

I thought I did, but I couldn't let Cassie know that.  I was still
a little ashamed of the way I looked even though I now took pride
in my appearance when Cassie approved it.  I looked like a woman,
mostly.  But my mirror still saw a man pretending to be a woman. 
I didn't want to be seen by anyone else.  

"And I love you this way!  I love it when you believe you're a
woman.  It strengthens you.  You yourself pointed it out.  Women
don't feel insecure about their appeal to other women, the way men
do.  There's no contest."

That wasn't exactly what I'd said.  Or if it was, it somehow wasn't
what I'd meant.

"We need to nurture your new belief in yourself.  You need to know
that others see and accept what you've become.  So to finish dinner
we're going out for cake and coffee to that lovely little dessert
store by the delicatessen at the end of the street.  We'll walk,
it's only two blocks."

There was an edge in her voice that I recognized -- no
contradictory opinions tolerated.  So I said rather hopelessly,
"Cassie, I'm comfortable looking and acting the way I do, and it's
becoming the way I am, and I appreciate everything you've done for
me that way, but I can't appear in public looking like this!"  

A sick fear was taking shape in my gut.  I was pathetic enough,
pussywhipped into dressing and behaving like this, even thinking
that's what I was.  But the outside world would see me as a
ludicrous freak. 

"Of course you can.  And you will.   You'll be fine.  Your make-up
is perfect, no retouching needed.  Maybe you should change your
skirt -- Jerry wrinkled it while he was banging you earlier
tonight, there are reasons why we undress for sex, and you should
know them even if Jerry doesn't.  I'll bring you another.  Your T
shirt's fine -- it displays your little breasts quite nicely.  So
how can anyone doubt you?  Would you feel more comfortable if I
gave you a push-up bra with a touch of cleavage?  You've agreed to
live the rest of your life as a woman, so let it all hang out?"  

"Cassie!  I never said ...!"

But I did wear another skirt, and the push-up bra she brought me
enlarged my breasts and gave them a touch of cleavage.  We walked
out to the sidewalk as she insisted, past lawns and houses like our
own, and down the length of our street into the small lighted mall
at the far end.  She insisted I walk with my chest thrust way out
-- "You are not a teen-age girl with bad posture," she said. 
"Don't try to hide inside yourself.  Stand tall and be proud,
honey."

"I'm a little scared," I told her.

"Of what?  Now that you're out, the world awaits.  Tomorrow we'll
get your ears pierced, maybe your nails done.  Commit you so you
can't even dream you were once a man.  You'll be fine when you know
there's no choice, no going back."

"Cassie, there's always choice."

"Not for you any more, sweetheart."  Cassie's voice was level and
serious.  "I needed your cooperation and I've gotten it, and now
you're doing this to yourself.  Soon all your exit doors will be
closed, sealed shut, and then you'll be mine forever, you'll never
be able to leave me, no matter what."  

I still didn't understand most of that, but since I had no
intention of leaving Cassie ever, it didn't matter.  I was still
apprehensive, deathly afraid the whole time that a neighbor would
see us and recognize me.  But sidewalks in the suburbs are for kids
on bicycles, joggers, children awaiting school busses, cleaning
help, and on rare occasion strolling couples like us.  We passed no
one.  

As we launched toward the distant haven of a dessert and coffee
shop Cassie reminded me to keep my hips in motion and thighs
together, one foot in front of the other, not merely ahead and
alongside.  It wasn't necessary.  I'd had lots of practice for
months, and I was so accustomed I hadn't been aware of it even that
day Cassie's bridge club got an eyefull.  But now, swaying down our
long street, fearful of exposure, still wondering why Cassie wanted
me this way, I became  extremely self-conscious.  Without intending
to, I overdid it.  I swiveled down the street with my rear end
wagging to and fro in an obscene invitation to every passerby.  

Fortunately, the few who noticed didn't try their luck with me --
my proper if attractive companion may have inhibited them somewhat. 
Cassie was altogether at ease.  She maintained a constant
girl-to-girl chatter about friends I scarcely knew, a new associate
at the office who was seducing his way down the secretarial pool,
a contract dispute she was mediating, and her problems shopping for
sexy underwear that wasn't whorish to wear on special occasions.

"Such as what?"  I asked, as suspicious as always but trying not to
let it show.

"We'll find some for you too, honey," was all she replied.

As we crossed into populated areas and into the coffee shop, Cassie
congratulated me but also cautioned me.  "You're a very attractive
young woman," she said.  "There's no need to feel ashamed or
embarrassed by that fact.  Men will approach you, no question of
it.  If so, for now maintain a polite distance.  There's no need to
invite their attention.  Which is to say, there's no reason for you
to wave your hips about quite that openly.  Not yet.  Wait.  Once
your ass rounds out a bit more, I'm sure every man who sees you
from the rear will be eager to replace Jerry in your affections and
your asshole."

"I wish you wouldn't talk about me attracting men," I said.  "I'm
not not gay, I'm only a girl, remember."

She grinned at that, and I realized what I'd just said.  Then she
continued.  "You'll find out what men think you are.  No fear. 
When it comes time to unveil your full-grown tits and your gorgeous
new rear end, you'll surely be there."

Our expedition may have made me a little apprehensive, but it was
actually pleasant, uneventful.  No one in the little coffee shop
glanced up when two young women entered and sat down, me with my
knees decorously touching as instructed.  The waitress took our
order -- I gave mine in a squeak -- and returned with our
cappucinos.  We chatted in low voices, Cassie maintaining a steady
stream of advice, her tone of voice reassuring, more to keep me
calm than to invite conversation, the way a teenage girl speaks to
a skittish horse.  By the time we got up to stroll home I felt
comfortable in this new world, no longer concerned I might be seen
as the wrong gender.  Whichever that might be.

Then as we left the coffee shop, a man who was just entering held
the door open for us.  "Ladies," he said, as I passed him by
quickly.  Cassie took her time, then paused in the doorway, so
close that he could neither move nor release the door.  "Thank
you," she said, looking up at him pleasantly, her face not six
inches away from his.  "It's lovely to know that a real gentleman
lives in this neighborhood!"  She had that challenging, intent,
flirtatious look I'd seen so often at her office parties.

I was suddenly aware that I was helpless.  There was nothing I
could do to assert a husbandly authority over a flirtatious wife
without revealing myself, without enduring public humiliation.  Was
this why Cassie had maneuvered me into the streets in a skirt?  To
free herself to pick up men under my nose while I stood by?  To
accustom me to helpless passivity and provide me with yet another
moment of perverse arousal?

She wasn't finished.  "Do you come to this coffee shop often?"

"Every night," he said.  "I live nearby.  Do you?"

"Yes, we do," she replied.  "My friend here and I."  She kept her
eyes on his, and waited.

end 10/13
VickieTern@AOL.COM

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ------ send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com>|
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html> Moderators: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|ASSM Archive at <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org>   Hosted by <http://www.asstr-mirror.org> |
|Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d; look for subject {ASSD}|
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+