The Right Thing?

You know, I’ll never be certain that I did the right thing . . . or that’s what I’m thinking now, at least. I seem always to have fluctuated between being one thing and wanting to be another, or . . . if that is possible, vice versa.

This present situation started with a guy I suppose you could call a genius, if you can define the term, I used to know . . . still know, drat it, but not the same way as I used to. Anyway, this man was into psychology and hypnosis, neither of which I believe in at all. He’d invented some stuff, things that I could not, didn’t really want, to comprehend. Just the same, he showed me some of his inventions that, although I don’t believe them, he actually made happen. I think it’s all those pills and stuff, but he said it was his psychological analysis of my mind that made me so ambivalent about my present condition.

I thought psychology was supposed to cure people of things like being a nut, or drugs and alcohol, or being excessively worried, and things like that. But he said . . . his name’s Manoel Barranca, by the way . . . Manoel said that it could also influence the way a person thinks, if applied using a combination of one of his screwy inventions,  psychology and hypnosis.

Anyway, I was feeling kinda down for a period there, so what did I do? Tried to get really drunk, which with me is a very bad sign. I mean, like, I can’t hold my booze, but I think I can and while tanked to the ears, I am without doubt the most charming, irresistible man a woman ever saw! Uh-huh. Well, it seems I tried to hit on this one woman and this big bruiser of a guy she was with took more than mild exception to my pass. He hit me hard, but although I’m small I’m wiry and tanked up as I was I thought I could handle him and the six guys he’d come in with. MannyCI found out some time later it was MannyCgrabbed me and hauled me the hell out of there. I heardCnot from MannyCthat he’d put an end to the guy’s trying to kick me in the gonads by cold-cocking him. Not only that but he took me back to his place to fix me up, too. I was bleeding pretty hard, it seems.

Well, Manny and me were old buddies, not always good buddies, but we got along okay, enough that he acted happy to have me for a guest . . . and said nothing about how long I could stay, or I should pay for anything . . . not at first, anyway.

I better tell you about me and Manny. Now, we’d never before gotten into a situation just like that night . . . you know, Manny didn’t have any guest bed, or a couch, or like that, so I’d have had to sleep on the floor, but he invited me to sleep in his bed . . . with him. Now Manny is a big guy, maybe 200 pounds, six foot and wide. I am a small guy, five foot five and if I’m soaking wet I might weight 110. 

Besides being an inventor, a hypnotist, a psychologist, an M.D. (non-practicing) and a general wacko, Manny is a weightlifter, so his muscles are like balloons, his thighs are huge and he takes up a helluva lotta room in a king size bed, even. Yeah, he did have a king size bed, but it took two thirds to three quarters of it to accommodate him.

Well, in the morning I woke up with a rod poking me in the lower back, a weight across my arm, and heavy breathing behind me. I admit I lay there wondering where the hell I was for about three seconds and not knowing even then, I got scared, jerked back with the elbow under the weight and got Manny right in the sternum so that he “woofed” and farted loudly . . . with considerable stench. I noticed in all the commotion that started right then that I did not, as I usually did in the morning, have a hard on. Too frightened. From the effects of Manny’s fart and the situation of him looking like he wanted to use me for a bar bell I was into the bathroom with  the door locked before he managed to get out of bed.

“Joseph,” he bellowed through the locked door, “ you are going to owe me one for last night and that belt in the gut, damn you!”

Man, I knew he was mad, ‘cause he never called me by any names but “Joe” or, kidding, “Josephine” when we were in friendly mood. He called me Josephine ‘cause I was so much smaller than he was, and he’d kid me . . . if we were being friends, that is . . . with me being his date if we were going out together. He never carried that too far, never even hinted at anything like a homo relationship in front of anyone else, even made sure that no one could even think that we were anything but good buddies. As we were, when we were in a good mood. We were both straight, by the way, in case you’re thinking “he doth protest too much?”

I came out of the bathroom naked, after taking a quick shower, listening all the time for Manny to break down the door and take me in hand. He was waiting outside the door, but he didn’t say anything, just walked past me and shut the bathroom door quietly. That was almost more frightening than if he’d cursed me some more.

I got dressed and started rooting around in his cupboards and fridge for things to make some breakfast with by the time he came out of the bathroom. I had a big package of bacon in one hand and three eggs in the other . . . I was gonna make an omelet for the two of us . . . and the look on Many’s face was enough to make me raise the bacon in what I thought was self-defense.

“Nah. Forget it, Joe. I didn’t mean anything by what happened in the bed, though it still hurts, you bum. Go ‘head, fix breakfast. Three slices of bacon for me, onions, peppers, red and green for the omelet in the drawer there.” He sat down and began reading the previous night’s paper.

So, I fixed us a good breakfast, neither of us saying anything while we ate. I’d started the Mr Coffee®, so we had coffee, although I like tea a lot better, now, and some toast in his wacky toaster with the one side that toasted about twice as fast as the other, neither side slow about burning the bread unless you kept a close eye on it . . . I had some kinda jam on the table, I forget what, spreading it liberally on my half-burned, half-floppy slice of bread, when Manny finally spoke, he having finished everything else to eat on the table.

“I told you, Joe, you owed me, right? I’m not angry now, but you still owe me for last night . . . ‘n’ this morning. I think I know what the guy wanted to put the boots to you for. I think I can cure you and get you feeling better about yourself , if that’s what you want.”

“What the hell do you mean, ‘cure’ me? I haven’t anything wrong with me. The ‘monster’ didn’t try to kill me for anything but being drunk and trying to put the make on his girlfriend. He didn’t try to kick me because I’m sick, probably because he is!”

“Well, look, Joe, let me put this as a friend, huh? Last night in your sleep, you were moaning about you wanted to be close to a woman. You didn’t say a thing about you wanted to be with a woman, or be a woman, just be close to a woman. Now, do you think that’s sick? It sounds to me like you wanna be like a woman, right? You kept that up for over an hour in your sleep!” 

“If I kept you awake, then I’m sorry,” I said, and I could feel my face getting red.

“Joe . . . Josie . . . Josephine, would you like to be . . . like a girl? Are we good enough buddies you can tell me the truth?”

I thought about our friendship for about a minute, looking at himCglaring at him, reallyCand I thought really hard about his inventions, the degree, his psychology and his weight lifting, for God’s sake! What that had to do with my decision I’ll never know, but I said, in a small voice, 

“Yes.”

“Yes? You would like to be?”

“I’m not sure. But, look, Manny, I’m not gonna make love to you, or you to me, hear? I’ll still be a hetero male, I think, even if you can make me like a woman, right?”

“We-ell, Josie, I’m not sure how you’ll feel, but we’ll see, huh?”

“I guess.” So casually I changed my life, so damn’ casually! Was I thinking? I thought I was at the time, but why did I think about weightlifting, of all the damn’ things I could have considered?

“Okay, Josie. This means a regimen of diet and pills. You really up for that?”

“I said ‘yes,” didn’t I?” says I, not yet regretting my decision. Besides, small guys gotta stick by their decisions or they’re gonna be wimps. Right?

So, that’s how it started. I’d gotten smashed and Manny, as I finally found out, was the guy who rescued me. I guess I was convinced I owed him.

The pills weren’t bad. I had to take two in the morning, two at noon and two before bedtime . . . or three when I got up and three at night, but they were of three different kinds. Manny had me move in with him, so he could “observe” me. I wasn’t broke or anything, so I bought a couch and a single bed for me, with sheets and the works. I also did some food shopping, ‘cause I could cook better than Manny. 

The diet was a bitch. I’d never been one for salads, almost fatless meats and such like, but Manny backed up my own stupidity and made me eat stuff like that and some special goo he’d concocted and I, God help me, cooked those messes. Manny made good royalties and I wasn’t doing so bad, so we decided I would work until the changes started, staying just the same with Manny..

Nothing seemed to happen for about five weeks. I seemed to be getting lazy at work, though. I used to jump in a help guys move heavy stuff, but not any more. My arms seemed less muscled, so I was a little less apt to pick up stuff and carry it if it looked “heavy,” although I had carried stuff a lot heavier without thought before. I was perhaps a little quicker to want to cookCManny and I had alternated when I’d moved in with himCand I discovered the joys of “doing” clothes with the good washer and dryer Manny had. Hell, a couple of times I was even looking to hang out the wash on a clothes-line, but Manny had no back yard to speak of!

I was taking a shower one morning when I suddenly realised that I had boobs. They weren’t big, but the bulges they made under my arms were enough to draw my notice as I crossed an arm over to soap my . . . was it a chest, still, or was it a bosom? Chest, I decided,.“Bosom” would mean both boobs, I thought. It felt kinda good when I soaped them and then rubbed them “to get the dirt off.” I saw that my gut was flatter except for a rounded little belly below my waist line. I still had my cock and balls, but they looked a little bit smaller. 

Was my waist slimmer? I thought so and as I dried, patting instead of rubbing roughly now, I saw that it was a good deal slimmer. In the tall, thin mirror I could see the increased contrast in width between my shoulders, (and those breasts!), my waist and my hips. They were certainly broader in contrast to my slimmer waist. My calves looked slimmer, but the dimensions had changed so that they were curvier; my thighs seemed to be thicker than they had been, too. I placed one hand on my cock and did not feel any great interest, nothing particular, so I felt at my scrotum and got no reaction from my testicles, nothing at all! They felt a little bit smaller, though and the skin was looser. I tried sucking them up with my muscles and they only came part way.

The diet was obviously working and I suppose the pills must have been, but Manny, who came in just then because I must have made a little yellCa shriek, if you insistCsaid, as he looked at me more closely than he had been regarding me with my clothes onCI still wore man’s clothingCmuttered,

“Time for a boost. How do you feel, Josie?”

“Pretty well, thank you, Manny. What’s this about a ‘boost?’”

“Your pills have taken effect, Josie, as they should have, It’s just timeCfive weeks, eh?Cto increase the dosage a bit, not much. I don’t think you’ll feel much different, but you’ll see more results in the next three weeks.”  

“What’s going to happen, then, Manny?”

“Tell me, are you still feeling like a man, or . . . ?”

“Uhm. I don’t know if I feel like a . . . man exactly . . . noticed my balls have no feeling . . . not much feeling in my penis . . . but I don’t want a man, if that’s what you mean.”

“Do you have any desire . . . . No, can that. Just a sec.”

He left the room and came back in under a minute with a glossy photo of one of the more luscious nudes I’ve seen. Her legs were spread, knees up and wide, no hair at her crotch, labia showing trim and tight, her right hand at about her waist. Her boobs were shoved out with that other hand behind her head and her nipples were sticking out for what looked like a good half-inch.

I looked at the photo with close attention and I felt something between my legs, but the most amazing thing was that I began to pant, just like a dog on a hot day. I wished the babe was present and my head between those lovely legs, my tongue licking at her inner thighs before she opened wide and allowed me at her labia.

“Well, Josie, you don’t have an erection, but there is some swelling around your cock, so I guess you’re still oriented toward women.”

“Why?” I asked in some fear, “wasn’t I supposed to be?” 

I was becoming unsure of just what Manny was doing to me. I guess I could have just played dumb and not actually taken any more pills, but I had to admit that I was feeling really good those days and although I had not told Manny, I had stopped the pills for a couple of days and I began to feel as though I was missing something, so I had started again, making up for the days I missed by taking one extra every time . . . 

That made m have a creeping itch inside that made me want to move my hips back and forth against my pillow, but I restrained myself. I didn’t want Manny getting more ideasCI remembered that rod in the small of may back those five weeks ago.

I lept remembering that photo. The girl was really pretty, but I didn’t exactly want to fuck her, I wanted to be lying beside her, to “make love” to her, and somehow that didn’t involve a penis in my state of mind. Funny, indeed. Even sober I’d considered myself something of a cocksman. Now all I wanted was to lie down beside some sweet woman and slowly stroke her breasts, kiss her, lick and suck on her nipples, maybe “go down” on her.

Huh! Would I ever get a chance? If I looked like a woman, even if I still felt like a man, and I had a cock and balls and all that, how the hell could I get alongside a woman who’d let me make love to her? That thought, which became more and more prominent in my cogitations over the next three weeks or so, was beginning to worry hell out of me as I changed even more.

By the beginning of week nine I had to wear a bra, I had bloomed to a C cup, my waist was markedly narrower and my hips more pronounced, even in men’s clothing, so I had to quit work. Although I had some vacation coming, it would not be long enough to take care of my changing. Too many of the guys at work were beginning to notice and remark on my change of figure. Despite being short and slim to start with, the growth of my boobs and the increasingly obvious curves I was sporting were cause for more than one snide, and some not so snide, comments. One guy even propositioned me, but he was supposed to be gay, so I wasn’t too hard on him. What? Of course I turned him down! Whaddya think I . . . well, naturally, if he was gay, why would he proposition a girl? He made the proposal sound like a straight guy to a . . . to a what?

I was just as glad I’d had to quit the job, as I discovered that I had a big separation allowance coming owing to some weird contract our union had signed some months back which covered those of us with more than ten years on the job. The day I handed in my notice, prepared to walk out right then, I had ten years and three months! My foreman was a damn’ nice guy, though, and told me about the separation allowance in time for me to wait a week before I really left. 
	
That “allowance” helped me get some dresses, blouses, women’s slacks, panties and more than a couple of bras. My boobies were hurting a bit if I didn’t cushion them in the right size bra, and that was almost “D.” Manny had suggested in an insinuating tone that I looked very good, but I still didn’t want to have anything sexual to do with him . . . or any man.  I was beginning to want . . . hell, I needed . . .  a woman!

Oh, yes, I got some women’s shoes, too, but the clerk sure looked at me funny when he saw the size of my feet. He didn’t say anything to me, but I heard him chuckling with another clerk when he thought I couldn’t hear him. I admit, I blushed, something I’d never done before. Gracious, my shoes were only size 6½ B as a man, so why should I have big feet if I was really turning into a girl? Turning? . . . Judas, I’d turned, and hardly realised it, even as I bought myself women’s clothing and all!

When I got home from buying the women’s shoes, thinking about the clerk and his chuckles, I got undressed and took a really good look at myself in the tall mirror. Judas! I really looked just about like the sexiest brunette you’ve Cor I’dCever seen! My boobs were taut, my body was trim, with a nice, rounded pair of bottom cheeks, I had a decent faceCbut then I’d always been kidded about my “girly looks”Cand there was no sign of my balls or my cock. I looked a lot closer, bending as far forward as possible to see all that I could. Then, not satisfied that I was learning what was really between my legs, I put my hand there and felt dampness. I put my fingers under my nose and sniffed. « Oh, it’s a nice smell » I thought.

I noticed that after my fingers left my crotch, I itched a little bit down there. I put my hand back and stroked the twin lipsCthat’s what they felt like as they seemed to puff up a little bit while I strokedCand then a finger hit something that made me groan and push my crotch against the finger, hard. That felt so good I tried to get it to do it again, and I did. Man, I was pushing my hips against my slippery fingerCand my other fingers slipped into a slippery place between those lipsC until all of a sudden I felt something grab me inside and turn me inside out! Oh, I cried out, yelled, maybe, and thrashed around on the chair until I slowly came down off that fantastic climax.

Jesus! That was so much better than any ejaculation I’d had as a kid beating off, or as a man fucking a woman, there was no comparison. I slowly recovered but I noticed I was not drained like I’d have been if I had blown a wad. I felt good as I washed myself and dried. Putting on my panties felt good, but nothing like that orgasm, so did wrapping my boobs in a bra. I was still sensitive, but it was controllableCfor now. I did feel myself lightly, and my thoughts weren’t on putting something in there, but on licking something that tasted like I did on my fingers. Ah! Fingers. That’s what I wanted inme, but I wanted to lick and kiss someone like  meCa woman, damn it!C a lot more.

Then I began really thinking. I seemed to be a complete woman, a female. I could wear clothes like a woman, I could speak like a woman. How the hell does a woman pick up a woman? Well, I thought, how does a gay guy pick up a man? In a bar? Not always, but that might work. I’d sure give it a try. Now? No, I’d better wait. Did I want to talk to Manny about it? No. I wanted, really, to find some sympathetic gal and talk to herCmaybe about a lot of things. 

I had no idea if I was subject to the usual girl things, like cramps with menses, pregnancyCohmigod! Could I get “that way?”Cand what one did if one was pregnant. I felt in control of my body, all right, I seemed to be thinking clearly . . .

Manny came in suddenlyC at least it was a sudden interruption of my thoughtsCwith a pretty girl on his arm. Without any preamble, she chuckled and said,

“Josie, this is Anne Macklin.” (That’s what it sounded like, but it was really “McLane”.) “She is going to help you . . . maybe a lot. I’ll leave you two to get acquainted. ‘bye.” and he was gone.

“Uhm. Hi, Ms Macklin, I’m Josie.” I was nervous as all get out. How was this Macklin going to help me?

“Josie, please don’t be nervous. First of all, please calle me Anne? Okay. Now, my name is spelled em see capital ell, ay en ee. Got it, it’s Scots, maybe.”  I didn;t think so, really, Anne was definitely black, but lovely pale café-au-lait, a thin nose but lips more full than most. She smiled.

“I know, I’m black, but if we’re to get on close terms . . .“ boy, I wouldn’t mind “ . . . you have to know that I’m a quadroon, in the old southern terms, and . . . I’m a lesbian.”

For some reason that made me relax all the way with the pretty woman. I reached for her, really, to pat her arm, but I had forgotten that I was buck nude.

Anne laughed hard for about a minute, I admit I joined in and we ended up, me collapsed in her arms and her kissing me frantically. Those kisses I returned eagerly and our tongues were all of a sudden wrestling.  She pulled away from me finally, not before we were both breathing hard. Hell, I was panting and I was wet, wet below..

“Can we lock that door? I don’ like Manny catchin’ us.” I thought she sounded a little Jamaican then, but I didn’t give a rat’s ass.

“Yes, please, turn that dead-bolt, then let’s get into the bedroom!”

Anne grinned at me and murmured as she began to shuck her clothing, making one or more steps toward me as she took off each item,

“Oh, you can wait that long?”  Uh, just barely.
 She was down to her long black stockingsCI wondered briefly what was holding them up, but there sure wasn’t time to askCwhen I fell back onto the bed and she landed on top of me, her mouth plastered to mine and mine wide open for her tongue and mine to go another round.

I felt her feeling around my thigh , so I opened my legs, letting her body slide between them. I knew she could, easily, for I was sopping all along my upper thighs, and I wanted her against me so much . . . so much. She was deft with her fingers, too, sliding them between our slippery bellies and softly into me. I writhed as she gave me increasing pleasure there while her tongue laved my breasts and made my nipples hard so that she could play-bite them, thus stoking the fires in my belly.

I wanted something more and Anne moved slowly to ensure that I got it, although I had no idea what I wanted. Her face and nibbling lips moved down my chest, stopping to lick and suck at my nips once again after kissing me, then sliding slowly, her hips, waist and ribs pressing my thighs outward until she was kissing my belly . . . and then . . . oh god, my lower lips felt the caress of her lips for the first time. I jumped a little, but she calmed me for the moment with a flick of her tongue over my clit, making me feel like fire and water had steamed me well-done in that moment. Then she worked on me with her tongue and her fingers until I was puffing, panting and trying to say “Enough, fuck me” but never letting me get my breath enough to do more than puff.  I felt that internal belly build-up once more, this time so wonderful that my own earlier manipulations had no more relation to it than my boy’s masturbating had to my first woman’s climax. I exploded.

Drained for the moment, I looked at Anne’s face, looking down at me with concern, with nothing less than love. How could I possibly repay . . .? Dumb bitch, I told myself.

“Anne, my turn!”

“Oh, yes!”

I raised my arms to welcome her into them and we embraced. I rolled us over so I was on topCAnne wasn’t much bigger than I, but I wouldn’t be hurting her, oh, no! Very very softly I kissed those luscious lips and she responded as softly. I tickled her lips with just the barest tip of my tongue, moving my whole head too rapidly, so that I soon was dizzy.

“Woof! Anne, wait a min’t, love, I’m dizzy.”

“Silly girl. Josie, I just love your body on me, slide your knee up my legs, huh?”

“Surely, dear. How’s that?”

“Kiss my tits, please?” I had never heard anyoneCI mean, no girl, ever say that word so darned sexily. Whew! I laved her with tender, increasingly strong licks, taking her nipples in my teeth softly, oh so softly and then lip-nibbling them until she was grunting and moving her body under me and they were like little rocks.

I tried to do what she had done to me, but I was too impatient, not that Anne seemed to mind. She almost shoved my head between her legs and I savored a scented, wet cunny for the first time ever. I think she had gotten so hot from my nibbling and stroking that she needed me right then.

I did my best to lick and finger her sensually, slowly working my way to her clit and then away, then thrusting my tongue into her cunny as far as I could with my fingers trilling on her cunny walls like a pianist, repeating until she yelled and bucked in the throes of a fearsome climax.

We lay clutching each other for some time after that. Her first remark, in a low tone, was,

“Best ever, lover, best ever.”

The trouble I have now is that we want to marry, and as two women, we can’t, not here. We don’t want, really, to go to Vermont and neither of us could afford to go, anyway. So maybe you can see why I’m ambivalent about my sex, these days? Why I worry I don’t know, for sex, love and being together as I’d never before experienced it, is so wonderful with Anne, a sentiment with which she agrees wholeheartedly. 
We kicked Manny out of his own apartmentCwe’re paying him back, I found a good jobCafter two weeks of his hanging around, trying to convince us that we were not meant for each other. He kept saying that lesbian relationships don’t lastChe wishes, is what I think.