Author: Calypso
Title: The Transformation of Evelyn Thomas
Part: Chapter 7
Summary: The erotic journey of a young man through transgender transformation to a new female self. 
Keywords: MF, MMF, TG, cons, reluc, oral, anal, rom, 1st

Send me your comments at calypso93<at>gmail<dot>com


CHAPTER 7

Day Thirty

        I opened my eyes from a deep, sound sleep and realized that light was leaking in around the curtains into the room and that I was being "spooned" from behind. An arm was draped over my hip and trailed down limp in front of my thighs, which were drawn up a bit in a moderate fetal position. My hair was in my eyes. I puffed it out of the way and glanced at the clock on the bedside table. 7:24 am. Not too bad, I thought. My mouth was a bit dry, but no hangover symptoms. My cock was hard, though, and standing out in front of me, tenting my nightgown. I thought hard. What was I to do? Barry was sleeping quietly, his breath warm on the back of my neck. I took stock for a moment. 
Last night had been great... no, better than great. It had been fantastic. Unbelievable. The sex had been incredible. It was as if all the times I had had sex as a man had been washed away and I was a new woman who had just lost her virginity in a deep, passionate, shivering, intense, and toe-curling orgasm... and I felt pretty good about it. Warm and satisfied and wanted, in fact. It was a pleasant, secure feeling. The problem was how to disengage from my current position and not lose what I had achieved. I didn't relish the idea of the sort of abusive argument I could imagine would follow Barry's discovery of my little (and currently erect) "secret." I figured I had two basic options: I could wake Barry up and see if he wanted to fuck a girl who, incidentally, had a cock. There was obviously some risk in that. Plus, it was kind of a nasty trick to play on a guy who seemed nice enough and was certainly charming and a good lay. Or I could try to maintain the deception and sneak out from under his arm and shower and dress before he woke up. This seemed safer. The problem was that I wanted some more sex. Really, really wanted it, as a matter of fact. I decided on the safe route, and that I would use the shower time to try and think of a way to get some daylight sex without being rejected, abused, or even beaten up. 

        I gently held Barry's arm and rotated out from under him and slid off the bed in one fluid movement. As I stood I gently lowered his arm to the mattress. He was till wearing his golf shirt and nude from the waist down, which made him look kind of cute and erotic at the same time. He murmured softly and rolled over onto his back and began to snore. So far, so good. I had better get dressed in the bathroom, I thought, and I thought about what to wear... the wedding was in the late afternoon, followed by dinner and an evening reception and I didn't have to be anywhere until the bridesmaid hair and makeup appointment at 2pm. I was feeling a little sore, to tell the truth... my hips and waist were sore where the unaccustomed "exertions" of the night, plus Barry's grabbing hands, had pressed a bit too hard on my not-yet-completely-healed post-surgical areas. The incisions seemed fine, at least I didn't see any bleeding and a quick look under my nightgown showed the still-red scars were intact, but the tissues underneath that had been lipo-suctioned and rearranged felt like deep, hard bruises. Ow. I had better go with comfy-casual, I thought, plus some of the post-surgical painkillers. I stopped at the bureau and quietly retrieved a plain white cotton panties and bra set, sandals, and a green knit T-shirt dress that would fall to just above my knees. Demure, but still cute enough if my vague plan to re-seduce Barry was to work out. I quickly tiptoed into the bathroom and quietly shut the door before turning on the light. 

        My hair was a complete birds-nest mess and my makeup was smeared every which way. I also had pretty obvious cum stains on my nightgown. My clothes from the last evening were still in a pile on the floor from last night. I dropped the nightgown down to my ankles and kicked it into the pile, along with my equally stained panties and started the shower. While it heated and the bathroom filled with steam I drank three glasses of water and took a couple of pain killers. I needed coffee. Since the hotel thoughtfully provided a phone in the bathroom, I called room service and asked them to send up coffee, juice, croissants, and toast for two... I had a feeling Barry might be limiting his morning diet to black coffee and dry toast, the poor baby. I told them to not knock, but just to leave it outside the door, hung up, and got in the shower. I luxuriated in the hot water and steam and let my mind wander for a while. I was glad it was a room two-person shower with seats. I sat for a while after the marble had warmed up, and then tried leaning forward with the pounding hot water loosening the tension in my back and neck muscles. 

        After some time, feeling so relaxed I was almost purring, I got out and treated myself to some nice moisturizing eau de toilette, after which I toweled off and blotted my hair carefully dry... since I was having it done later I wasn't worried about styling, but I also didn't want to stress the artificial weave too much. I looked forward to having my own hair long enough that I wouldn't have to worry about that sort of thing. Of course, I didn't want to look like a witch, either, so I gently combed it out, put on my undies and pulled the dress over my head, and combed my hair straight back after I. I secured my hair back with a head band behind my ears and then applied some very basic makeup... lightly colored rose lipstick, a bit of foundation, and a very little blush and mascara... just enough to keep from looking like a pale redheaded ghost. I stepped into the sandals and stepped out into the room. The lights were still off, but I could hear Barry stirring in bed so I went to the door and looked outside. The room service cart was there, so I wheeled it in and closed the door and went over to see how my new boyfriend was doing. Not well, as it turned out. 

        "Uuuhhhhggg," he moaned, curled in a fetal position with a pillow over his head. Yep, I thought. Hangover. I leaned down to about where his face must be under the pillow. 

        "Hey, cutey, are you OK?" I asked softly.
"Oh, God," He groaned. 

        "Ssshhhh," I whispered gently, stroking his arm. "It's OK. I'll take care of you. But you'll have to come with me; you're too big to carry." I pulled gently on his arm as I pulled the pillow away. 

        He covered his eyes with his free hand. "Uuuhhhh." Even in the darkened room the light was hitting him hard. He sat slowly up, unsteadily; I cradled his head against my belly and let him adjust to being vertical. "Ummm," he said uncertainly, "where am I?" I almost laughed out loud, but stifled it and grinned to myself. 

        "SShhh, baby," I said. We'll talk later when you're feeling better. Now come with me." I pulled him gently to his feet. He stood, swaying slightly, and I moved next to him with my arm around his chest, under his arms. His hair was sticking out every which way, he had a dried crust of saliva around his mouth, some major beard shadow, and his skin was a distinctly grayish pallor. He was still wearing the golf shirt, with noticeable cum stains on the bottom front, and was nude from the waist down. His cock was all shriveled in his misery and his pubic hair was matted with dried semen. Not the most romantic morning view, but I thought it was kind of cute in a vulnerable and helpless sort of way. He was clinging to me like a sick little boy. I had never realized how much power women could exercise over men. I led him slowly, with short slow steps, to the bathroom. He groaned at the bathroom light. "Do you need to pee, honey?" 

        "Uhhh... I don't think so." 

         "Then sit down right here. Don't go anywhere!" I sat him on the toilet seat, started the shower again, and went to the room service cart where I poured two black coffees and grabbed a plate of dry toast. When I turned back to the bathroom Barry had sunk to his side and was resting his head on the cool marble bathroom counter top. I set the coffee next to him and poured him a glass of cold water from the sink faucet. "Here, hon," I said, stroking his head gently. Stand up for a second and rinse your mouth out."
Don't wanna," he slurred, "m' gonna die." 

        "No you're not; now stand up by the sink." I helped him to the sink and made him rinse his mouth out and spit several times. "Now try a little sip of water and swallow it." He tried and gagged. "Ssshhh, it's OK," I said, stroking the back of his neck while he dry heaved over the sink. I wetted a washcloth with cold water and held it to the back of his neck. "Try again now," I said when he seemed to be a little better.

        This time it stayed down, so I had him drink a little more and eat a corner of toast. That stayed down too, although he was nauseous, so I had him put his arms up and pulled off his crusty shirt and threw it in the pile. Then I helped him into the shower. 

        While Barry stood helpless in the shower, leaning on the wall with the hot water streaming down over his head, I went out and had my breakfast croissants, juice, and coffee. Then I went back in to check on my little boy patient. "Are you OK in there," I asked sweetly through the shower doors. 
Barry pulled the door back and managed a wan smile. 

        "Well, I think I may live after all," he said, "Thanks to the prettiest nurse I've ever seen." What a charmer. Even hung-over he could still make me grin with his outrageous flattery. 

        "Well, thank you very much," I said, dimpling. "And you are definitely the cutest patient I've ever awakened next to." 

        "Uhhhmmm," he said hesitantly...

        "Ssshh," I said, handing him another glass of water. "First, drink this, slowly." He did. "Now eat this," I said when he was done, trading his glass for a piece of dry toast. He chewed and swallowed, bit by bit, slowly. Some color was coming back into his face. "Now, you were saying?" 

        "Well, I don't know exactly how to tell you this..." he trailed off.

        "Let me try," I said... "Do you know who I am?"

        Barry looked shocked. "Of course!"

        "Well, that's good," I said. "Do you remember my name?" 

        "How could I forget the beautiful Eve?" he said, flirtatiously, managing a wink that made him wince. His head must have been pounding. 

        "Well, that's good, too," I said, brightly. "Do you remember where you are and how we got here?" 

        "Umm... not really."

        "How about what we did last night," I said in a throaty tone and with a sultry look. 

        He looked embarrassed. "Well... not much. Sort of. I think. Maybe." 

        "Well," I said, as I got some aspirin out of a bottle, "You're here in my hotel room, where you spent the night as you can probably guess." I handed him the aspirin. "Now take these. The toast should help you keep them down." He washed them down, slowly, with another glass of water. I took the glass back. "And we had a really, really, really good time last night," I said with my sultriest look, "and you probably don't remember what we did, how we did it, or even how many times?" I asked mock-accusingly. 

        "Umm, maybe a little," he said, looking guilty. It was very cute. 

        "Well," I said, leaning forward and lightly kissing the tip of his nose, "maybe when you're feeling better, if you're a very good boy, I'll fill you in on the sexy details. But until then we need to get you feeling like a human being first. Here," I said handing him a pink ladies' razor. "You can shave with this and the moisturizer bar in there. I'll go and find you something to wear. And here," I said, handing him the cup of coffee I had pored for him, "sip this, too." I left as he meekly did as I said. 

        Since he was only two inches taller than me, I figured he could wear some of my sweats. I pulled out a light blue t-shirt and taupe sweat pants and hooded sweatshirt. I added some white ankle socks. A little effeminate, but not ridiculous. I went back in the bath. Barry was till shaving with the smallish blade. "Here," I said, placing the things on the counter, "you can wear these when you get out. Brush your teeth, first," I said, waving my finger at him as he peeked around the curtain, his face half-soaped, "... you can use the hotel toothbrush." I laid it out for him. "I'll be on the patio when you get out." I left the bath and wheeled the room service cart out to the patio. Karen's room, next door, was silent. Either she had spent the night with Rick or the soon-to-be newlyweds were still sound-asleep. 

        It was another beautiful, sunny, southern California day. I enjoyed the sun on my face in the mildly warm morning breeze while I snacked on croissant and had another coffee, light and sweet this time. The fact that Barry didn't remember last night very clearly was going to help me out tremendously as I worked to manipulate him into more sex with little-old transsexual me. 

        After a while I heard the bathroom door open and I looked back over my shoulder to see Barry emerge, hesitantly, wearing my sweats. The jacket and t-shirt were a bit tight, but it was better than his messy clothes, most of which were still scattered around the room. I saw him looking around, noticing the wildly disarrayed and stained bed clothes and the articles of clothing scattered here and there. He walked out to the patio and I stood up and gave him a long, gentle hug. He hugged me back, hesitantly. I kissed him on the cheek and stood back a bit. "Feeling better, now, baby?" 

        The water, toast, aspirin, and black coffee had remade Barry into a reasonable semblance of a human being. With his hair combed and a shave he actually looked presentable. He looked me in the eyes. "I'm feeling a lot better now, thanks to you," he said, managing a smile. "God," he said," how much did I drink last night?"
 
       "Ummm... a lot?" I giggled.

       "Shit," he said, in mock chagrin. "I remember us drinking and getting a cab pretty clearly. Did you drink all those drinks?"

       "Yep," I lied, sweet and innocent.
       
       "Really? You didn't pour them out in a plant or something?"

       "Nope. They were yummy. I like Irish Coffee." I grinned at him and kissed his chin. "And you were so cute." 

        "Well, I'm glad you think so," he said, grinning.

        "Well, you'd better sit before you fall over or something." We sat and refilled our coffee cups. Barry stirred a little sugar in his and took another piece of toast. 

        "Did you really forget last night?" I asked.

        "Well... some of it," he admitted, looking sheepish. 

        "Well, how much do you remember?" 

        "I'm not sure... did you, uh, that is, ummm... did you go down on me?" 

        "Of course, silly! Who did you think it was, the chamber maid? How could you forget?" I pouted. 

        "Oh, hey," he protested quickly, "I didn't forget! It's just that... it's kind of fuzzy. And is was so incredible! God, I thought maybe I dreamed it!" 

       "I still can't believe you forgot me," I said, drawing him out with more pouting. This was fun! A plan was beginning to take shape in my mind of how I would manipulate him into being my sex toy for the rest of the day. I would have to convince him he had already known and accepted me...

       "No, no!" He protested. "It just seemed too good to be true!" 

       I let him off the hook with a big smile. "Well... if you're saying it was a dreamy experience I guess I'll let forgive you. Now, did you forget the rest?" He looked uncomfortable and fiddled with his coffee cup. 

       "Umm... I think I remember you... on top of me?"

       "Yep. Go on." I lowered my head and looked at him, suspiciously, through my lashes. 

       "Uhhh... you were riding me?" 

       "Right again! Now, do you remember how exactly we did it? This should be easy, baby," I said, laughing.
 
       "Umm... did we, uh, that is... I remember you were really tight and uh... did we do it in your...?"

        I giggled. "In my ass, you mean? Of course, silly! It was wonderful!" I drawled the word out for emphasis. He smiled, his ego stroked. Now for the hook. "Of course it was the only way you could do me, so it's not like it's a hard guess or anything." 

       He didn't pick up on it at first; he was still preening at the thought of being wonderful. Then he noticed what I had just said. "Uh, what?" he blurted. 

       "You know," I said, teasingly.

       "Um... your period?" He took a stab in the dark and missed. I decided to put him on the defensive now, as I forced him down the path I was designing. I put on an expression of horror. 

       "You forgot!!??" I said, my voice rising with feigned anger. "I don't fucking believe you forgot that!" 

        "Uh, no, no!" He said, quickly, in sudden panic and confusion. "Um, maybe a detail or two... what did I forget? Please don't be mad, I didn't mean to make you angry!" I just turned away and acted as if I was ignoring him. Let him simmer for a bit, I thought, and let the panic set in. He'll start putting two and two together in a little bit.

       After a tense pause he tried again, trying to be soothing this time. "Hey, hey... I'm sorry! Please forgive me... it's OK... Just tell me why you're mad; I know I'm wrong and... besides... I really, really like you. I don't want you to be upset."

       I sniffed, facing away from him, and found I could fake some tears. I had to condition his response before he made the inevitable conclusion that I was leading him to. He reacted like men always do when faced with a woman crying; he was confused and panicky and wanted to make it stop. He got up and came over to where I was sitting and gently put his hand on my shoulder. I flinched away. He jerked his hand back. "Don't touch me, you asshole," I mumbled through my tears. 

       "Hey, hey, I'm sorry," he said softly... "Don't cry... it's OK. Everything is OK, I promise. Just tell me what's wrong and I'll make it all right." He sounded desperate and was responding the way I wanted so I decided to give him a little reward; I turned toward him and threw my arms around his waist and hugged my face to his middle and sobbed and sniffed. He stiffened and then put his hands gently on my head and stroked my hair. "There, there," he said soothingly. "It's OK. I'm sorry I made you mad; let me make it up to you? It's just that... well, you're so beautiful and sexy and smart and funny; I guess I just liked you so much that I made a stupid mistake! Let me start over again? I promise it'll be OK, I won't do it again, whatever I did." 

       Bingo, I thought, now for the big moment. I took a deep breath. I was honestly worried about whether this would work or not, but all my instincts and hormones were screaming to go on, so I took the plunge. "I don't believe you're going to make me go through it all over again," I said quietly. "I was so scared last night but you were so kind and understanding and sweet about it... was that really you? Or was that just an act or the booze talking?" I looked up at him, my eyes full of tears and with a pleading expression. 

       He looked stunned; like I'd hit him between the eyes with a bat. He squatted down and took my hands in his and looked into my eyes, earnestness all over his face. He we go, I thought. "Hey," he said softly, "I don't act. Whatever I said last night, even if I don't remember it, I meant it then and I still mean it now. That's a promise. I would never, ever hurt you." OK, he was committed. I wasn't acting now, I really was afraid and upset. This was going to be quite a leap of faith. I took a deep breath.

       "Last night you told me that you found me attractive and that you wanted to make love to me." 

       "Well, sure," he said. "Nothing upsetting about that, right...?"

       "That's just it," I said. "You told me that after I told you my secret. You told me that you didn't care, that you wanted me anyway." 

       "Uh, secret?" He was looking apprehensive now. Shit. I was committed. No way out. 

       "You really don't remember now, do you?" I said. Then, angrily, "I swear, if you act like a jerk... well, I guess there won't be much that I'd be able to do. Barry... I don't know a better way to tell you this. I'm a transsexual. I was born a boy. Now do you understand? Do you remember anything I told you?" 

        Barry looked stunned. Shit. Well, at least he wasn't freaking out. Yet, anyway. He sat down heavily, still stunned and speechless. I didn't want to look at him but I couldn't look away, either. I felt like running away and crying. Finally he spoke.

        "You're... a boy?" He paused. "I don't believe it!" he said with a disbelieving half grin, "Come on now, really!" 

        "Jesus Christ, Barry, would I lie about something like this? Besides, it's not like I can't prove it, as you saw last night!" 

        "What?"

        "Barry, do I have to spell it out for you? I have a cock. C-O-C-K. You saw it. Remember?" It was now or never. Shock him up front and convince him he had already accepted it. But Barry didn't say anything. His mouth was open, but nothing was coming out. I decided on tears; play on his sympathy and see where it led. So I started sniffling. 

        "God, I knew it, you hate me. Just go and leave me alone! You asshole, how could you do this to me?!"  I curled up into a fetal ball in my chair and waited for a few, eternally long moments. 

       I felt a gentle touch on my back and I twitched. The touch was removed, and then it was back again, gently stroking my hair. "Ssshhhh... "Barry said. I just sniffled. "It's OK," he said. I don't hate you; it's just kind of a... surprise, that's all. I'm a little confused; it's all my fault," he added hastily, "not yours. It's all me, I'm sorry, baby. Please don't cry." 

       I wasn't faking now, I really was crying, out of fear and embarrassment more than anything else, so I put my arms around him and sobbed into his chest. Barry put his arms awkwardly around me and held me, gently, ssshhh-ing and stroking my hair. We stayed like that for a while. It was one of the most vulnerable and intimate moments I have ever had.

       After a bit, Barry took his arms from around me and out his hand under my chin and tilted my face up.  He bent down and looked in my teary eyes. "Baby, I don't know how, or why, or when, but I forgot last night and I'm sorry. Sorry I forgot and sorry I had to put you through this twice. But please believe me: you are a gorgeous, sexy, pretty, and incredibly attractive woman and I don't care about how you were born, all I care about is you, right here and now. Please stop crying? I'm sorry. Please forgive me." It had worked. I won. I kissed him, hard, both hands on the back of his head; he was a bit startled at first and then he returned the kiss. We both did, with more and more passion, and then I was standing and his arms were around me, and everything was perfect as he kissed away my tears, and my heart raced and my breathing became shallow and ragged as he touched my back, and breasts, and ass, and neck and everything exploded in warm electric arcs of sensation as he led me inside to the bed. My dress came off, over my head, and my underwear disappeared and Barry's sweats were gone and his body and mine were all that mattered as we tumbled onto the bed. 

       Do you know how sometimes when you are with the right person, and you both want it really bad, sex turns into a frantic, passionate, frenzy where everything feels right and the time spins away in spiraling desire? Well, maybe that's a poetic spin, but you get my meaning. Well, that's what it was like the second time with Barry. The night before, losing my virginity with his semi-conscious more-or-less cooperation, had been great... but now it got even better. 

       Sex is better when there are two, when both people want it so badly that you simply dispense with the preliminaries and jump straight into hard, banging, fucking. I'm not even sure how we got to the bed. I remember Barry pulling my dress off over my head as we kissed frantically, as if afraid that we wouldn't be able to make contact after the brief interruption of the thin material passing between us. We didn't even have to hit each other's mouth... face, neck, chest, whatever was in reach; each square inch of skin seemed tingling and alive under the kisses. I was gasping as he pulled my bra off and flung it over his head and his mouth found my nipples. I cried out as he sucked my nipple into his mouth, then switched to the other one, then back again... he bit softly and gripping my nipple between his teeth, pulled on it... and the incredible waves of sensation made me ache for him to be inside of me; whether they were pain or pleasure I still don't know. We tumbled onto the bed as I pulled his pants down and grabbed his cock. I wanted it in my mouth, but he had other ideas. 

       He shucked off his pants and rolled to me, rolling me over as he did. I scooted up so that I would be fully on the bed (my legs were hanging off at first) and as I did, Barry climbed on top of me, straddling my thighs. He fumbled about a bit at first, as I tried to wiggling my ass up to receive him, and then I felt something wet and cold, then warm, squirt into the crack of my ass... he had found the tube of lubricant and was lubing me. I hadn't thought of it until then, but I had enough time to be briefly thankful that he had and then I felt the head of his cock prodding between my ass cheeks as he leaned forward, his hands and elbows on the bed on either side of me and his hard, flat stomach brushing my ass cheeks. I could feel his breath hot on my neck as he tried to poke his way into me... he was too high. I reached back and guided him down just a bit to the anal opening... there. 

       My second assfucking was, if anything, even better than the first. My ass was still stretched from last night, so he slid easily into me, aided by the warm greasy lube. My sphincter was still tight, and I gripped him with my ass muscles as he penetrated me, deeper and deeper, both of us grunting with the sensation. "God you're so fucking tight," he gasped.

       "God you're so fucking big," I said breathlessly... "Fuck me slow and deep, baby, you feel so fucking good inside me!" 

       He drew himself slowly out of me, leaving what felt like an aching empty abyss in my guts and then, slowly and sensuously, he thrust back into me, inch by tantalizing inch. I hadn't realized I had been holding my breath; I let it out in a long, soft, "aaaaaahhhhhh....." as he penetrated me to his entire length. I pushed my ass up against him to get every last bit of him at the best possible angle. From the soft dull pain of my sphincter ring to the aching fullness of my rectum I felt completely and utterly full of warm throbbing cock. Then he did it again. And again. And again. Over and over he fucked me, deep and slow, making me crazy with sensation and desire for more. More! I wanted more. God, I wanted more. I didn't know how, all I knew was that I needed him, more of him, deeper in me. I thrust my ass against his groin, meeting his thrusts, and gradually the thrusts became faster, and harder... 

       I don't know how long we did it like that, but after a time that seemed an eternity I was bouncing on the mattress as he pounded my ass, hard and deep, faster and faster until it seemed like a blur of pounding, thrusting shafts deep in me. I was crying out with his thrusts, uncontrollably and wordlessly, my "aah! Aaahh!" getting louder as he fucked me harder. We were sweating, drops rolling off us, his sweat dripping on me. He pushed his hands and forearms under my arms and grabbed my shoulders and pulled me back onto his thrusts. I craned my neck to the side and he leaned over and we kissed, hungrily and passionately, our tongues seeking each others' mouths as we gasped for air with the exertions. 

       He changed his angle suddenly, driving his cock downward now so that it dragged the head across my prostate and I thought I would faint from the sensation. My own cock was rubbing the sheets, harder and faster and I knew I couldn't wait much longer... and I wondered how long Barry could keep it up... both literally and figuratively. And as I wondered, he arched his back, wordlessly driving himself into me with one last, hard, almost brutal thrust and as he groaned I felt him twitching inside me, pulsing and throbbing as my ass filled with the flooding warmth of his semen... and as he did my own cock let go with its own jets, wetting the bed sheets with a spreading, warm, wet spot. 

       Barry collapsed onto me, panting. I was panting too, with a bit more effort as his weight was pressing me down, squashing my chest and flattening my breasts against the mattress. I didn't mind, though. It felt good to have a man on top of me and inside me. Barry summoned up the energy to kiss my sweaty back, with tiny, tender, nibbling kisses and I purred with the intimacy and the warm feelings of contentment and fullness and possession. Barry was still shaking with the intensity of the orgasm, and I was too. After a time I felt Barry's cock softening inside me, until it pulled out of me with a soft "plop" feeling. After a few minutes, as our ragged breathing returned to a normal, if still fast and shallow pace, Barry rolled off me and onto the bed. I took a long, deep breath, still on my belly, and turned my head to the side to look at him. 

        Barry was on his back, his skin glistening with sweat and his hair matted with it. I watched his chest rise and fall and then he turned his head to face me, and looked into my eyes with those incredibly blue eyes of his. He had the softest, most tender look on his face that I had ever seen.

       "Are you OK?" he asked softly. 

       "Mmmmmm....hmmmm..." I purred, closing my eyes and grinning. God I felt good. I felt his fingers brush my face; I opened my eyes as he brushed the hair away from my face and scooted over a bit closer. His lips brushed mine, and I opened my mouth, but he drew back so I leaned toward him and placed tiny, sucking kisses along the line of his collar bone. He tasted warm and wet and salty and good. I licked at him as he sighed with the sensation. I lifted my head and he slid his arm underneath and I rested on his muscular upper arm and cuddled, still on my stomach and him on his side, in the curve of his shoulder. He held me gently, one arm beneath my head and his hand between my shoulder blades and the other, free, hand gently stroking my hair. 

       My anus was pleasantly sore, and I could feel a warm, wet, greasiness between my ass cheeks and running down into my crotch that I suspected was his semen leaking out of me. My own and now shriveled cock was pressed into the cooling wet spot I had made below me and that my anal trickle was adding to. Yuck.  

       After holding me like this for what seemed a very long time, Barry gently disengaged and rolled over onto his back. "Sorry, my arm is falling asleep," he said quietly. I pushed myself up onto my elbows and looked at him. He laid there, his hair still matted with sweat and his eyes half closed as he drowsed in the pleasant afterglow. I scooted over, closer to him (and out of the wet spot, incidentally) and onto my side, facing him. I curled up in a semi-fetal position, with my head on his upper chest and my free arm across his abdomen with my hand cupping his hip. He put his left arm around me and held me, and put his right hand behind my head, his fingers entwined in my hair. This went on for some time, cuddling, occasionally kissing in slow, gentle, explorative arcs, and whispering quietly to each other about nothing in particular. I basked in the warm circle of his powerful body and his strong arms and he explored, very gently, my woman's curves, from my throat to my breasts. I noticed he carefully avoided my crotch and what was tucked away, hidden, there. 

       After a while, Barry gently disengaged himself, and as I rolled off him onto my back he sat up and swung his legs off the side of the bed. He turned back to look at me. "Sorry, beautiful, but we've got the wedding we're supposed to be getting ready for." The wedding. Shit. What time was it? I sat up hurriedly and looked for the clock. Barry noticed my sudden panic and laughed indulgently. "Hey, don't panic, it's still only about 1... you've got plenty of time. It's just that I have to go back to my hotel... and you're right here, where the bridesmaids will be getting ready." He had a point there. I calmed myself and rolled around to face him, swinging my legs underneath me, and squatting back on my crossed ankles, with my knees primly together and my hands in my lap. My little cock was squeezed out of sight, between and behind my thighs, so I looked like a very prim girl who was, incidentally, stark naked and with traces of smeared makeup and matted hair giving away her very recent and very naughty activity. I looked at Barry and he smiled. "God, you're beautiful!" He stood up and walked, naked, over to the side of the bed closest to me and gently took my head in his hands, leaned down, and kissed me, softly. I closed my eyes and sighed and savored the salty taste of his lips and opened my mouth to the gentle caressing touch of the tip of his tongue and then he drew back as I opened my eyes. "I have to get going," he said with a faint grin," or you'll convince me to stay and we'll both be late!" 

       He was leaving. I felt a sudden cold wave of emptiness and loneliness. It was probably the raging and weirdly mixed hormones, but I felt almost like crying. "Will I see you again?" I asked, sadly, expecting a reply that I feared.
 
       Barry just stopped in his search for his pants (which were hanging from a lampshade) and looked at me with a neutral expression. Then he saw my bottom lip quivering softly and came back, sat next to me and put his arm around me. I leaned into him and tried not to cry. "Hey, ssshhh," he said, gently. 

       "I want to see you again," I said, softly, not looking at him. 

       "I know," he said quietly. "I..." He paused for a long moment, then took a deep breath and went on. This is it, I thought. I'm going to get dumped. "I need to think this whole thing over," he said, finally. "About you. And me." 

       "I thought you accepted me for who I am," I asked quietly.

       "I do," he said, a little defensively. "It's just that it's... complicated. You're a gorgeous, sexy, intelligent, funny woman... and I am incredibly attracted to you, maybe more than any woman I've ever known, it's just that... well... you know." He ended helplessly, not wanting to say what I knew he was thinking. I did actually understand what he was going through, I had gone through a similar process over the last month, of deciding who I was and what I wanted, and I had dragged him into the whole thing suddenly and with more than a little trickery. But my hormones were surging and my emotions were raging, and all I knew was what I felt, and I felt alone and abandoned and unloved and angry at him for making me feel this way. 

       "Whatever," I said, flatly and coldly and without another word I rolled around and off the bed, stood up, and walked to the bathroom, went in, closed the door, and locked it. I started the shower, grabbed a towel off the rack, and sat on the toilet seat and sobbed silently into the towel, tears of rage and loneliness soaking the soft cotton. 

       After a while I heard Barry knock softly and say, a little helplessly I thought, "I'll, uh, see you at the wedding, OK?" I didn't reply and after a brief pause I heard the door open and close as he left. I let my tears flow for a bit longer and then took a deep breath and tried to pull myself together. With a shaky sigh I got up and got in the shower and stood there for a long time, not thinking and letting the hot water pound down on me and wash away my emotional cloud. 

       It helped. Quite a lot, actually. I felt much better when I got out and dried myself off. I had scrubbed my face in the shower and my eyes didn't seem excessively red or swollen as I studied myself in the mirror. My activity of the night and morning notwithstanding, my surgical scars were healing nicely, the redness now gone except for the thin red line of the scar tissue along the incisions. My breasts had settled a bit and were high and tight and perky, like a teenager's, but not obviously implanted. My augmented ass cheeks had settled a bit too, looking soft and round and feminine. Maybe the pounding they had received the night before and this morning had been good for them. I turned back and forth and inspected myself. Not bad... darned good, actually. Trim and slim and high-waisted and pert-breasted. A bit broad-shouldered, slim in the hips, and ever-so-slightly muscular in the thighs, but not in a bad way. I just looked athletic, although I was hoping to become a bit curvier and perhaps even voluptuous as the hormones kicked in. My hair was a damp mop, but I had gently combed it out in the shower and the afternoon had a complete makeover and hair session in store for all the bridesmaids (and Karen, too! I looked forward to seeing her) so I wasn't concerned. 

       I blotted my hair with a towel and then let it air dry as I walked around the room in my robe, neatening up a bit. The place was a bit of a shambles. I picked up the bed clothes from the pile on the floor where they had been kicked during my passionate deflowering and piled them on the bed. I picked up odd bits of clothing from here and there; some semen stained, and put them in the growing pile in the bathroom, where I also separated the towels into another, also growing and somewhat damp pile. The maids had been held off by the "do not disturb" sign, but I really need their service now. I called down to the housekeeping staff and arranged for them to come up after 3. I also wrapped two 20-dollar bills in a brief thank you note and left it on the bathroom counter addressed to "housemaids." They were doing a really good job of taking care of me; in an odd way I almost felt like they were family, watching me go through my rebirth and abbreviated puberty and picking up after me as I did so. I made a mental note to commend them to the hotel management and also to leave them a substantial tip when I checked out in two days. 

       God, two days, I thought. I had a lot to do in two days. The vacation was over. I had to touch base with the realtor and see where (if anywhere) I was going to live and also what I would be doing there. I had to make arrangements for my future medical treatments, get rid of all my old male stuff, and figure out how I was going to fit all my new things into my smallish convertible. I had to divert my household shipment to my new place. I had to buy new luggage. Crap. I was going to be busy. And it was almost 3 o'clock; time to go. I put on some sweats and sneakers, grabbed some underwear and stockings, and went down to the spa. 

       The spa really cheered me up. The other bridesmaids were there, two lieutenants and a captain; all friends from Karen's various assignments (they had "heard about Karen's sister" from Karen's various stories, so I was covered), and we chatted and giggled while the stylist did our hair and the makeup ladies worked on the rest of us. After two ours of manicure, pedicure, facial and scalp massage, hairstyling, and a complete makeover I felt like an entirely new woman. I also looked fabulous! I paid close attention and pumped the makeup ladies for some tips since I wanted to be able to recreate some of their artistry; I learned some good stuff that I still use today. The captain was married, but the two lieutenants were single girls and had each had some fairly lurid sexual escapades since they had been in town; they kept us laughing with their sexy and funny stories all through the pampering process. I thought of my own adventure and smiled to myself. I wasn't feeling quite confident enough to talk candidly about that... not yet, anyway. 

       As the hair stylists and makeup ladies finished up the dressmaker showed up with our dresses and matching shoes; we had about an hour to get to the wedding location and the minibus was ready so we got dressed. I was a little nervous at changing in front of the other women; luckily they had separate cubicles set up so I didn't have to worry about them seeing my little thing hanging there between my legs. I started with the thong; that took a little creative wiggling as I got my cock positioned just right. I put on the garter belt next, a really sexy gold and embroidered six-strap combination garter belt and girdle made of stretchy spandex/lycra and lined with silk. It was full-fashioned in a retro style, it reached from my waist to just below my hips and my crotch. It fastened with a set of hook and eye fasteners in back that took a little wiggling and reaching to fasten just right. It had the secondary effect of cinching my waist a bit more and sculpting my newly augmented ass cheeks and hips. I still had a little residual soreness and swelling from the surgery, not to mention the man handling (ha ha) and fucking they had been receiving over the previous day or so; the support the stretch material provided was a welcome feeling. I put on the stockings next, full-fashion black silk with a back seam, hooked to the six garter straps. Finally there was a matching strapless longline bra, lined with silk again, with a terribly flattering and somewhat daring demi cup that not only put my new breasts on display, but also pushed them up as if there were on a shelf, exposed down almost to the nipple. The bra itself reached down to the bottom of my ribs, promising secure support and stability: I liked being on display, but I didn't want everything to slide down or, worse, to pop out in the middle of the affair! 

       I must admit, the gowns looked great if I do say so myself; added to the professional styling and makeup we all looked really, really good. We looked beautiful and feminine and glamorous without the saccharine over-sweetness of most bridesmaid gowns. With three-inch formal pumps the gowns twirled, giving a glimpse of ankle and a hint of calf. I regretted briefly not being able to display my legs, but then I gave it a bit of thought... this was Karen's day. After the last few days I realized just how easy it was to attract a man; while I enjoyed the attention and the sex that seemed to inevitably follow, my job today was to support Karen, not be the party slut. Besides, I had managed to manipulate the situation with Barry... but I might not be so lucky the next time. I didn't need some horrified erstwhile admirer blurting out my (and Karen's!) secret in the middle of the reception. I decided to be cautious and to try and keep it demure and ladylike.

       Now to be honest, I hadn't had to do much as the Maid of Honor up to this point. Karen had pretty much planned and executed the whole thing (including transforming me!!!), which is pretty much typical of Karen. She had been the big sister and acted the role of junior-Mom all our lives, so it was nothing new to me. She's always in charge and always perfectly organized. I wondered if her new husband knew what he was getting into... Karen had done all the stuff the maid of Honor usually has to help out with... stuff like the location, invitations, menu, dress, décor, seating, and the rehearsal. She hadn't had a "bachelorette party" (she probably figured she had a wild enough past to cover up as it was) so I hadn't had to do that, either. She was also handling her own dressing and makeup (albeit with some hired help from the hotel concierge service). But she wasn't superwoman... she couldn't be in two places at once. So today I had some things to do. 

       The first thing to do was to get to the wedding site, an absolutely beautiful outdoor site overlooking the Pacific Ocean, and make sure everything was ready... and be prepared to react if it was not. Luckily I had the three bridesmaids as assistants. Their names were... damn, I had just met them... Michelle, Alyssa, and ... and... oh yes, and Amy. And Eve, I thought mischievously to myself. I went to check. They were ready, I was ready, so off we went in the minivan the hotel had thoughtfully provided (they were making a bunch of money off the reception, so it wasn't entirely altruism on their part). On the drive over I went through my checklist and a wedding emergency kit... I had put together over the last couple of days (with some help and advice from the concierge). Bobby pins, dress mending kit, makeup, clear nail polish, hairspray, comb, tissue, perfume, breath mints, replacement pantyhose, over-the-counter headache medicine, super glue, upset-tummy tablets, deodorant, and watch. Check. Grooms ring, very important! Check. My cel phone with numbers for the caterer, reception manager, photographer, minister, and other important players. Check. I felt as prepared as I could be, but I was still nervous. Was it the new hormones or genuine worry? Did it matter? I popped a couple of the tummy-tablets. 

       The site appeared to be all set up as we pulled up and climbed out. That was a good sign. The photographer was already there, setting up his arcane equipment and checking the light. The chairs, a rose-covered trellis for the minister, and the runner had all been laid out and parking attendants were on hand. I deployed my assistants and we strolled out to check on things. Everything appeared to be in order. 1 hour to go. I sat down in the front row and tried to relax. The time seemed to race by. Maybe it was the hormones... or the adrenaline. After a little time I spent calming down and clearing my thoughts, I got up and made the rounds. The guests were starting to arrive and so were the ushers. I went to meet them. I was primed to be the perfect hostess but once Barry arrived I forgot all about that. 

       He came walking up from the parking lot looking absolutely gorgeous in his Army dress blue uniform, medals and insignia flashing in the sun. I wanted him. I wanted him all to myself, to hold, and talk to, but mostly I just wanted to be at the center of his attention. He walked up to me and said, quietly, "Hi."

       "Hi," I replied just as quietly. What was I going to say? I racked my brains.

       "You look incredible," he said.

       "Thanks."

       "No, really. You look... absolutely amazing. Like a model, or a... movie star or something. From the glamour days." He was actually blushing!
 
        "Um, thanks... I um..." I wasn't really sure what to say. I was staring at my feet when he reached out and took my chin in his hand and tilted my face up... although in my three inch heels I was actually about an inch taller than him, so he didn't have to tilt far. He leaned forward and kissed me, softly, on the lips. It was brief and soft but incredibly warm and felt as if an electric charge has passed into me, creating a sudden splash of warmth in my belly. 

       "I was thinking about you. Are you OK?" he asked. 

       "Yes, I said then blurted, "Oh, god, I'm so sorry, I was such a bitch when you left, and I didn't mean to be and..." 

       "Shhh...." he said, touching my lips."It's OK. I seem to remember I was kind of a jerk before that, considering what went on all last night... and this morning." 

       I put my palms on his chest and stepped closer to him. "It's OK," I breathed and then we kissed. It was one of those kisses that is soft, and slow and tender and seems to last forever while the whole world shrinks to a tiny circle of warm sensual pleasure. When we finally broke for air I was short of breath. 

       "Oh, my," I said just as Barry blurted, "Wow!" We just grinned at each other for a bit. Then I fished in my purse for a hanky... "Hold still," I said as I blotted at his mouth where I had smeared, very lightly, a thin bit of lipstick. He just grinned. We spent the next few minutes waiting for the bridal party holding hands and talking and giggling like teenagers. My heart was pounding and I felt happier than I had ever been and all I could see were his big warm eyes and his soft smile. Finally we parted as the wedding began to organize itself and we had to take our places. I had scandalously neglected my duties while I sat giggling with Barry; luckily the bridesmaids and ushers had got things organized between them. One of the good things about having your wedding part made up of military people. 

       They had timed the ceremony for just past sunset, so that the sky would be glowing with the sun just below the horizon of the azure sea, but not so that it would mess up the photography. As with all Karen's plans, it worked perfectly. Karen was beautiful, her husband was gorgeous, the ceremony went smoothly and the weather was perfect. And through all of it I kept peeking at Barry out of the corner of my eye. Once I caught him peeking at me. 
I must have been terribly distracted because the whole thing just sort of blurred on by. Before I knew it, the vows had been said and the newlyweds were posing for their pictures against the glowing sky with the ocean stretching out behind them. One thing that did stand out in my mind was the senior officer Karen had chosen, in lieu of our deceased father, to give her away. I had met him briefly before, the night I had met Barry, but I had been so take up with my outrageous flirting that I hadn't really formed much of an impression. I was in the middle of trying to check everything at once as the part cleared out, hoping I hadn't forgotten anything, when he walked up to me from behind and put his arm around my shoulders. I confess I almost jumped out of my skin.

       "Whoa, calm down young lady," he said, laughing. "It's not that bad! You're doing just fine! Don't worry... everything is going OK and you're doing a great job for your big sister... and you know what?" I didn't answer at first. I was feeling that `naughty-schoolgirl-caught-in the-act' feeling again. He was absolutely gorgeous in a chiseled, grey-at-the-temples way. Some guys get better with age. He was one. Plus, he was even more resplendent in his uniform than Barry had been... with his medals and the two stars of a general winking from the cuff of his mess dress uniform. 

       Have you ever had one of those dreams where you find yourself going to school or work naked and everyone is staring at you? Well, that's how he made me feel. I felt like he was staring right through me and new all my, um, secrets. I hadn't felt this vulnerable since I went out that first time with Karen. I must have had a real `deer-in-the-headlights' look because he laughed, gently and warmly. "I startled you, didn't I?" 

       "um, yes, and, uh, no... uh, that is I mean, no, I don't know what, and uh, yes you startled me!" I blurted suddenly. I felt hot.
 
       "You're blushing," he said with a smile. His hand felt warm on my bare upper arm and his arm was heavy and strong across my back and shoulders. I wondered if I just leaned into him what he would do. Would he take me in his arms? Kiss me? God, I felt like I had the other night when I first met him... like some stereotype heroine in a bodice-ripping novel, all heaving bosoms and flushed with passion. How did he do that? Or was it just me? His eyes were deep and warm and brown. I realized I was staring.

        "I uh, really have to get to the reception..." 

       "Well, I just wanted to tell you this... he leaned closer. My head was turned to look at him and I thought for a moment he was going to kiss me. My lips opened and my eyes have closed seemingly on their own. He breathed gently, his lips almost touching mine, "Don't worry about the small stuff. It will take care of itself and nobody will notice anyway... they're all looking at the happy couple. You need to relax and have some fun for yourself... you're too beautiful to waste on all this running around." 

        And with that he stroked his hand up my upper arm and across my bare back as he withdrew his arm from my shoulders and walked to the parking lot. I was quivering, almost shivering from his touch, his strength, his warmth, and his amazing presence... and my little bare cock was an insistent pressure, buried beneath my legs and trying to harden. After a moment I pulled myself together with a start and got back to work. We had our obligatory bridesmaid and usher photos done, then it was time for us all the pile back into the vans and head back to the hotel for the reception. I had things to do there: as the maid of honor I was responsible for arranging the gift table, making sure the cake was ready, and of course offering a toast. But those warm brown eyes stayed with me. And my small smooth cock stayed semi-hard in response. 
