Date: Mon, 3 Nov 2008 07:08:14 -0800 (PST)
From: Fred Gingerman <gingerfred2005@yahoo.com>
Subject: Next-Door Bride -- transgender

Next-Door Bride
by Gingerfred Man

   Chapter One -- A Lot to Digest

   I was a bit excited when I came home from school that day in late
May. It was my 18th birthday and Mom and Dad had promised a special
surprise for me.

   They weren't exaggerating.

   With only two weeks left before I was to graduate from high school and
no definite plans for anything, I had been kind of out of sorts. My
birthday offered a relief from all that concern about my future.

   Or so I thought.

   I went into the house at about 3:30 and was surprised to see Dad home
from work already. He was quite a hard worker and never took time off. How
nice that he would want to be home for my birthday. I greeted him, then
Mom, as she entered the front room. I was a bit surprised to see Mr. Clark
following her.

   Jason Clark had been our next-door neighbor since I was ten years
old. He was a nice guy, but a little creepy. He worked out of his home and
always seemed to be on his porch to greet me when I came home from
anywhere. It was almost as if he were following me or something.

   Mr. Clark was about 35 and was in very good shape. He always seemed to
running or lifting weights and his body showed it. He was kind of good
looking too, I guess. Blond and rugged looking. A tall man, maybe seven
inches bigger than my five-six, and around 220 pounds of muscle.

   Still, he was a little; creepy. I mean he took an odd interest in me
from the day he moved in. He was very friendly and always seemed to care
about what I was doing and how I was feeling. But it was only directed at
me. He pretty much ignored my older brother Danny and my Mom and Dad. Only
me.

   That day, he was in our house for maybe the tenth time in eight years
and for some reason, it made me uncomfortable. I was right to feel that
way.

   I said hello to everyone. Mr. Clark said, "Hello, Jerry." But he said it
in a funny way, you know? I didn't like it.

   I looked at Dad. "Thanks for coming home early on my birthday, Dad," I
said.

   Dad smiled. "You're welcome, Jerry. I had to be here because Mom and I
have wonderful news for you!"

   Wow. I liked wonderful news. "What is it, Dad?" I asked.

   "Jerry, you can stop worrying about your future. Mr. Clark has asked for
your hand in marriage and we've accepted."

   I must have misheard. I asked Dad to repeat it, but he said the same
thing.

   My stomach tightened. My head spun. That was crazy. "You're kidding."

   Dad frowned. So did Mom. "Don't get fresh with me, young lady. I am NOT
kidding."

   Young lady? Was everyone crazy? "Dad, I'm a boy."

   "Sass me again and you'll get the strap, Missy. You stopped being a boy
when you turned 18."

   The strap? Missy? Eighteen?

   Was I dreaming? Were they all crazy?

   Mr. Clark was smiling so broadly I thought his face would split open.
Dad relaxed his face. I didn't want "the strap." Dad hadn't spanked me
since I was about ten. He never spanked Danny, who did things I would never
have dreamed of.

   What was happening? I asked. "I don't understand."

   Mom took over. Speaking very calmly, she said, "Sweetheart, we've known
for some time that you would never really be a man. You're small and
weak. Your penis is pathetic. You could never please a woman with that tiny
thing."

   Ohh. My ears were hot with shame. Mom didn't think I could be a man? And
how did Mom know how big my cock was?

   Mom went on, "Mr. Clark has always wanted a sissy wife. He spotted you
when you sang that solo at the glee club concert when you were ten. He knew
you were a sissy then and he fell in love with you. He moved next door so
he could be near you until you turned 18. Mr. Clark shared his feelings
about you with us last year and you'll be pleased to know that he's offered
your father and me a considerable amount of money for you to be his bride."

   They sold me! My parents sold me? To this pervert. Who stalked a
ten-year-old boy so he could fuck him eight years later?

   I was trembling with fear. And considering my options. Fight or flight?
Both were bad options.

   Dad softened a bit and spoke. "We know this is a shock to you, Jerry,
but surely you knew that you would never be a real man. Not like Danny."

   My older brother Danny was the same size as Dad and Mr. Clark. He had
impregnated three girls and abandoned them. He had a series of adult
misdemeanors and two youth felonies. Girls adored him. And so did my
parents.

   I looked at Mr. Clark, then at my parents. Despair gripped my gut and
hot tears stung my eyes.

   Dad came over and hugged me. "It's all right, Nicole," he said.
"Mr. Clark, Jason, will be a wonderful husband to you. He'll give you
everything you need. Everything. And you'll be submissive to him as a good
sissy wife should be."

   I wailed. "Dad, why are you calling me 'Nicole'?"

   Dad hugged me harder. "Shhhhh, sweetheart. That's your name now. Jason
picked it out. You'll love it."

   Mom said, "Now dry those tears, Nicole. You have to get dressed and
ready for your dinner date with Jason."

   Things kept getting worse. "D-d-d-dinner date?"

   "Of course, Dear," Mom said. "We have to get this courtship in gear. The
wedding's in four weeks."

   Groannnnn!!!!

   Mr. Clark stood up to leave. He looked at me, then turned to my father.
"May I..."

   Dad nodded.

   Mr. Clark moved to me and stood facing me. He was so much taller than I,
that I had to crane my neck to see him. He said, "I love you, Nicole."

   My stomach flipped. It was disgusting.

   Then, omigosh, he held me by the shoulders and gently drew me toward
him. Was he going to... Ick!! He kissed me. Right on the lips. Thank
Goodness he didn't use his tongue or I would have fainted.

   I didn't kiss him back, honest. But I did get something I never
expected. An erection.

   I was miserable.



   Chapter Two -- First date

   Mom led a dazed me upstairs to my room. That was another huge
surprise. While I was at school that day, all my boy stuff had been
pitched. What replaced it was pure girlie.

   Pink ruffles on my bed. "Seventeen" magazine on my dresser. Boy bands
posters on my walls. A vanity with a big mirror, stool and lots and lots of
cosmetics. Worst of all, a closetful of girlie clothes.

   I was afraid to ask what was in a large chest under my window, but when
Mom saw me looking at it, she told me.

   "That's your hope chest, Nicole, Dear. It's filled with pretty lingerie
that you'll use to drive your husband wild with lust on your honeymoon and
during your married life. Isn't it exciting?"

   A man crazy with lust for me? What would he do to me? I would be
helpless against him? Oh no. There was that erection again.

   But I was also sobbing with fear.

   Mom's attempts to "comfort" me made things worse. "Sweetheart, we girls
have to sacrifice for our men. They're the providers and breadwinners. We
have to keep a nice home for them and satisfy their 'urges' in every
way. Now let's get you dressed for your dinner date."

   Fear stabbed my gut. "Mom, I can't do this."

   Mom dismissed me. "Of course you can, Dear. You have no choice. Now
let's get you undressed and into the shower."

   I undressed, humiliated at being naked in front of my Mom. It was
particularly awful because over the past few weeks my breasts had felt
funny and skin seemed to be developing in places around my nipples. I tried
to hide that from Mom, but she made note of it out loud.

   "Your titties are developing nicely, Nicole. There will be something to
put in your bra for your wedding. Thank goodness Daddy and I started you on
hormones four months ago."

   Hormones?!?! Mom said they were shots for allergies!!!

   How extensive was this conspiracy against me?

   I had sort of noticed that my hips were flaring a bit and my waist was
slimmer, but I thought that was just the last stages of puberty or
something.

   Mom hustled me into the shower, which I took in wet misery. I was in
complete despair, except for my three-inch cock, which was stiff and
throbbing for reasons unknown.

   I washed my long hair thoroughly. Why had I listened six months ago when
Mom and Dad suggested that I "grow it out" into a more-stylish ponytail?

   What was going to happen to me? Married in four weeks? Ohhhhhh. How
would I even get through the "date" with Jason that night?

   Mom was waiting for me when I stepped out of the shower. Didn't she know
how humiliating it was for an 18-year-old boy to have his mother see him
nude?

   She dried me with huge, fluffy towels, pointing out that girls "patted,
not rubbed" their delicate skin.

   Then she REALLY humiliated me.

   Try though I might, I couldn't get my erection to go down. Mom
noticed. When I was all dry, except for my hair, Mom said, "Nicole, you
can't go on your date with this thing sticking up. It'll ruin the lines of
your dress. Come over here and let me fix things."

   Did she mean...? Oh, please no.

   "Stop dilly-dallying, girl, and come here. That's better. Now let me
just get all that toxic material out of you. Sissies need their boyish
juices milked out several times a day. Jason will be doing most of that for
you, of course, but I suppose I'll have to do it now."

   Mom put her soft hand on my tiny cock and felt me up, including my
shriveled, terrified balls. Holy cow!!! It was the single worst moment of
my life. Had everyone gone crazy?

   Mom was pulling my foreskin back and saying, "You have a very sissyish
little peeny, Nicole. Look at the pink head and the drippy goo oozing out
of your peehole. Jason's going to have a wonderful time with it. Kissing
it. Licking it. Sucking it and your little pink bag of nuts. You two will
have a terrific time together."

   The images Mom was putting into my mind were disgusting. A man having
his way with me. Satisfying his disgusting needs with my body. Mom's hand
was so warm and she was so "handy." Omigosh! I didn't want to. I was so
ashamed. I gasped, lurched, and began to cum in big spurts into several
Kleenex that Mom was holding in anticipation of my little explosion.

   "Get it all out, Honey. That's it. You'll feel better now. Good
girl. That was a lot of sissy cream!"

   I was shaking when she milked the last drops out and cleaned me with a
fresh tissue. But she was right. It did calm me a bit.

   Mom showed me how to shave my armpits and legs, then I sat docily as Mom
dried my hair and styled it with a curling iron, all the while explaining
how I could do it all myself. I was still naked, but at least I wasn't
erect. When Mom finished my hair, I looked like a boy with a girl's curly
hairdo. That was about to change.

   Mom gave me an hour's instruction on the theory and practice of
cosmetics, all the while, highlighting my smooth, pretty features, glossing
my bee-stung lips and creating eyes that a man would never forget.

   When she was finished, I viewed the new me with shock and awe. I was
gorgeous. A late-teen beauty who, if I had seen the previous day when none
of this silliness was happening, would have spent the night stroking my
wienie dreaming about.

   Was everyone right? I wasn't much use as a male, but apparently, I was a
very hot babe.

   How confusing. And sad.

   Mom moved along on her agenda. She stood me up and showed me how to hook
a bra. It was white with lots of lace and ribbons. I stole little looks at
myself in the mirror, unable to get over my startling new look and the
potential it had created.

   Mom noticed and approved.

   The bra made me feel a bit girly too. I didn't have much there yet, but
the soft material brushing my nipples was very ...stimulating.

   Then Mom sat me down and showed me how to roll a sheer, silky, tan
stocking into a donut. "We'll get you to the salon for a manicure and
pedicure tomorrow after school," she said. "No time now."

   I pointed my foot as she instructed, then slid the cool, delicious nylon
up my shaved leg. Oh, Baby. I didn't expect how good that would feel. Or
how good my legs would look. Or how stiff I would be, yet again.

   Mom smiled with satisfaction as she had me stand, then put on a frilly,
white garter belt and hook it to my stockings. I just had to look at myself
in the full-length mirror, so I did. I was shaking with surprise and
arousal as Mom stood behind me, and, wordlessly, reached around my right
hip to masturbate me as I looked at my beautiful self. When I came, I blew
five thick, sticky ropes into the mirror.

   Mom was pleased. "I'll get that later, Honey. Let's get your shoes on."

   My "shoes" were barely there. Strappy black sandals with three-inch
heels. Mom spent the next hour showing me how to walk in them and how to
sit like a lady.

   I guess I did OK. I only fell twice. But then I got the hang of it.

   Lastly, Mom took my dress from the closet. White, with big, black polka
dots. Two inches above my knee, with just the right amount of flounce in
the skirts. Did I just say "flounce?"

   We slipped it over my head and I looked at the completed, date-ready
product in the mirror.

   I was hot.

   How did that happen?

   What did it mean?

   I prayed that I didn't get another erection. Being masturbated by your
Mom twice in one day is usually enough.

   I was saved by the bell.

   Jason arrived and Mom went to greet him. "Don't come until we call you,
Nicole. A girl must make an entrance. Plus Dad and I want to take some
pictures."

   Sure, I thought. Immortalize my humiliation. Maybe I could just crawl
out the window. Then I could report them all to a child-protection
agency. No, I couldn't. I was 18 and not a child. And theoretically free to
leave anytime I wanted. With my girl-only clothes and less than a high
school education.

   <Sigh>

   "Nicole! Jason's here!" Mom called.

   Just like "Leave it to Beaver," I thought, except Beaver's in a dress
and dating Eddie Haskell.

   I left the room and began to walk down the stairs, carefully stepping in
my new heels.

   Flashes exploded.

   I was temporarily blinded, but then I saw Jason. He was in a blue suit,
white shirt, red tie and black shoes. Like he was in a presidential debate
or something. I had never seen him in a suit before and he did look pretty
good.

   Maybe if we were alone, I could talk some sense into him.

   Maybe North Korea would ask to become the 51st state.

   He was smiling as if it was the best day of his life or something. Well,
I think you know that it was already the worst day of mine. And it was far
from over.

   The weirdo pervert faggot did give me some pretty flowers. I liked
flowers and, with Mom's prodding, I thanked him and gave him a little peck
on the cheek. He had shaved really closely and he smelled of English
Leather.

   "You kids have fun," Daddy said. Did I just call him "Daddy?" Jason was
in his mid-30s -- not a kid -- but I kind of liked that. An older guy
wanting me. It was a little flattering.

   But mostly scary and disgusting.

   As Mom had insisted, I held Jason's arm as he took me to his car. He
held the door for me and I managed to get in without exposing my garters or
my pantied crotch.

   I was getting the hang of that girl stuff rather quickly. Not that I
would need it when I ran off to be a lumberjack in Venezuela. Which was the
plan hatching in my mind. Do they have lumberjacks in Venezuela?

   Anyway, he got into the driver's seat and he was so darned happy. It was
sad, really, because there was no way I was going through with any
"marriage." The poor sap was in for a big disappointment.

   He was chattering away happily about small talk and didn't try any funny
stuff, thank goodness. Maybe he was going to respect my wishes. Maybe HE
could go be a lumberjack in Venezuela .

   When we got to the restaurant, he helped me out of the car and I held
his arm again.

   The maitre d' was fawning all over Jason and our table was ready as soon
as we arrived.

   Maybe things would have been different if what happened next didn't
happen next.

   The room was full of diners. It was a lovely late spring night and our
table, a prime one, was located outside, on a patio at the rear of the
restaurant. The maitre d' led Jason and me through the main dining room.

   Conversation stopped. Heads turned. Cocks stiffened. For me.

   Me.

   No one had noticed me all my life and now I was stopping pacemakers.

   It was the single most ego-gratifying moment of my life.

   Even women looked at me -- with envy or lesbian attraction, who cared?

   How did that happen? And how could I keep it happening? Certainly not as
Jerry, the teenage, little-dicked boy.

   Jason saw and understood.

   How had he seen what I would be as a sissy, when no one else did?

   A man who understood me better than I understood myself. Now there was a
powerful aphrodisiac. Better than English Leather. If I were gay, which I'm
not, OK?

   Jason pointed out a few things on the menu to me, asked my opinions
about them, then ordered for both of us. That made me feel kind of good
actually. As if he were protecting me.

   Then he talked to me. "I think I know what was your biggest shock today,
Sweetheart. Seeing the reaction of all those people to your beauty. It's an
awesome power you have, your femininity and beauty. And you're only in the
early stages of it. Imagine its power as it develops."

   Yeah, I thought. I'll be the most powerful lumberjack in South
America. But he did have kind of a point. I was overwhelmed by the
admiration and lust I felt. What power!

   "Oh, Nicole, I'll make you so happy. I'll worship you every day of our
lives and I'll make you cum so often you'll give more milk than a cow."

   Not a romantic image, but a stimulating one.

   I started answering Jason in complete sentences, but not because I liked
him. Just being polite.

   The food was good and I did enjoy walking past all those people again on
our way out of the restaurant.

   I wondered if they could see the tent my teeny peeny was making in my
pretty dress.

   Jason did.

   I know, because when we got to the car, he asked me if I was all right.

   I was puzzled and asked him what he meant.

   "You seem to need a milking, Sweetheart."

   My cheeks blazed with embarrassment. The worst part was that Jason was
right. I was very aroused from all the hot stares I had gotten in the
restaurant.

   But there was no way I wanted Jason whacking me off. Reaching under my
skirt. Putting his rough hand in my panties and rubbing it all over my
privates. Reaching for my foreskin and gripping it on either side of my
"pink helmet" with his thumb and forefinger. Skinning it over the head and
then releasing. Skinning. Releasing, <Gasp> <Pant>

   No way would I allow that. "I'm fine, thank you, Mr. Clark."

   Jason smiled. "You were calling me 'Jason' before. Of course, soon
enough, you'll be Mrs. Clark. In fact, I have something for you."

   Was it a birthday present? Or was it something disgusting like pulling
out his cock as a "present" for me?

   Worse.

   Jason produced a two-inch-square box, encircled by a pretty, pink
ribbon. He handed it to me and, innocently, I thanked him and opened it.

   It was horrible!

   A two-carat, perfectly cut and set, diamond engagement ring.

   He really did intend to marry me.

   What was I to do?

   I was scared out of my wits.

   But it was a beautiful diamond.

   And very expensive.

   And Jason was beaming with happiness and anticipation.

   The poor sap.

   Oh, well. I slipped it on my finger, then looked at it sheepishly,
blushing fiercely as I did so. It looked so good on my hand. So good. It
would look better when I had the manicure my Mom had promised me for the
next day, I thought idly.

   Why was I thinking those things?

   I looked at Jason. "Do you like it?" he asked.

   I started to cry. Because I couldn't marry him. Or any man. I was a boy,
not a sissy. Why didn't anyone seem to understand that?

   Jason completely misunderstood. He took my bawling as tears of joy and
he took me into his arms, then kissed me deeply. "I love you, Nicole. I've
always loved you from the first moment I saw you playing soldiers with your
friends eight years ago. I looked at you then and saw you as you are today,
a feminine masterpiece."

   He kissed me again and my stupid cock was stupidly erect again.

   That milking didn't sound all that bad. I mean, the man was crazy about
me. I almost said, tell me more about how wonderful I am.

   "Nicole," he said, "I want you to be a virgin in both your mouth and
your bottom when we marry. We'll have a lifetime to fill those with my
throbbing manhood". <I shivered>

   "But, Sweetie, I need some relief. I know a virgin doesn't touch her
man's cock on the first date, but we just got engaged." <We did?>

   "Could you," Jason asked, "Just rub me through my pants as I kiss you?
Just until I cum?"

   Oh no, please, I thought. I couldn't. But then I thought, he must have
spent $15,000 on that ring. And $150 for dinner. And I wouldn't have to
touch "it." And so far the kissing was kind of nice.

   "OK," I said, in my smallest voice.

   Jason almost fainted with joy. "You're an angel," he gushed. "I know I
have my own house and everything, but I promised your Mom and Dad I would
keep your virtue until our wedding night and they might take it the wrong
way if I took you in the house on the first date. So could we just do this
here in the car?"

   I was 18. In the car was normal. "OK, I said, but..."

   Jason looked at me. "But what, Darling Nicole?"

   I was beet-red. But I had needs too. "Could you rub me through my
panties and make me cum too? As I rub you and we kiss?" I couldn't believe
I said that, but having done so, I would have been crushed if he had said
no.

   He said yes. Enthusiastically.



   I asked him if I should take my ring off before I rubbed his crotch.

   At least I tried to through his mouth on mine.

   He was a great kisser and his hand was doing some fine work under my
skirt.

   He was rubbing the silky nylon of my panties against my excited little
tickler. Very nicely. So nicely that I almost forgot to reciprocate.

   When I did reach to feel him up, I got a great shock. Was Jason hiding a
baseball bat in his pants? It was stiff as wood and as thick as a
salami. And the moment I touched it through his pants, I thought Jason was
going to pass out. He groaned loudly with the pleasure of a realized
heart's desire. Or at least the beginnings of a realization.

   I think I was the first to use my tongue in our kiss. That came as a
surprise to me. And even more so to Jason, whose hot, thick, cock twitched
and began to expel a torrent of hot juices that stained his blue suit pants
down to his knees,

   I really excited him. Little me. The boy nobody, but girl VIP.

   He was doing a pretty good job on me as well. I was panting and gasping
as he stroked me in a way my Mom would never understand. Only men know
where the right spots are.

   The kissing was red hot as he tickled my pantied balls the way I like. I
whimpered most unmanfully, then drenched my first panties with my hot,
sticky cream. I even squealed as the pleasure seemed to go on and on.

   Omigosh.

   Jason probably thought it was a good date or something when he dropped
me off at home. And kissed me good night. And told me he loved me.

   Why did he keep saying that?

   Mom got the completely wrong idea when she saw me wearing Jason's
engagement ring, with my lipstick smeared and panties dripping cum.

   It wasn't like that at all.



   Chapter Three -- Early Engagement

   Mom was chattering happily as she escorted me to my room to give me
instruction on how a girl prepares herself for bed. A lot of "cleansing"
and pinning and tucking. She was full of questions as she hung my pretty
dress in the closet and helped me wash and hang my stockings. I gave her
half-answers, which didn't discourage her one bit. Apparently Mom had had
all the testosterone she wanted from Danny and was delighted to have a
"daughter."

   Mom helped me slide on my pink nightie, then showed me how "scrumptious
and sexy" I looked in the mirror. I didn't want to look because I knew I
would get another stiffie and Mom would feel compelled to milk me
again. But all that happened anyway.

   I was completely aroused by any view of my girl self. Or anyone's
aroused reaction to my girl self. What was happening to me?

   Mom kissed me goodnight and left me to my terrors of the future, the
first of which would be a day in school dressed as Nicole.

   Somehow, all I could think of was Jason's nice kissing and his hand
rubbing my willie through my filmy panties. That put me to sleep with a
half-smile on my face.

   The next morning, Mom burst into my room at 6 a.m., an hour earlier than
I had risen all through high school.

   "Girls need more time, Nicole," Mom said as she whipped the shades open,
blinding me with sunlight.

   Realizing that all that had happened to me the previous day was not a
dream, I groaned and sat up in bed. Then I went off to the bathroom with
Mom yelling after me, "Sit to tinkle, Honey."

   Obediently, I did so.

   Then Mom helped me get myself together. I tried the make-up and hair,
but needed help from Mom. But not much help. I hooked on my bra, rolled up
my stockings and put on my garter belt and four-inch heels by myself. Was I
going to school as a hooker? Girls at my school wore jeans and flannel
shirts. So did the woman teachers. Mom had me in a plaid mini and white
blouse. That alone would draw big stares. As if I needed more curious eyes
on me.

   It was with deep dread mixed with a large dollop of sexual arousal and
curiosity (a heady combination) that I left for school that day, my first
full day as a panty boy.

   Mom drove me to school, sparing me at least from the barbs on the bus. I
stepped out of the car, being careful not to flash my panties, and already,
heads were turning toward me.

   Incredulous looks. Then confused looks. Then derisive looks. Then verbal
abuse from every immature knucklehead in school. And there were lots of
them.

   I hurried to my first-period English class, looking for the protection
of a supervised situation. Thank goodness graduation was only two weeks
off. Did Venezuelan lumberjacks need high-school diplomas? I wasn't taking
any chances.

   My teacher, Mrs. Cruz, gave me an odd look, but she didn't comment on my
illusion of femininity. My female classmates were giggling and my male
classmates were sort of half-sneering and half-drooling, since I looked
more like an actual "girl" than any of the room's teenage vagina-toters
dressed as squeegee men.

   One boy did neither. He just smiled at me. Robbie Sullivan had been my
friend for a long time -- since 3rd Grade. Like me, Robbie was kind of a
runt and not one of the in-crowd.

   The look Robbie gave me was neither of disgust or lust. It was a look I
couldn't describe.

   After English, Robbie walked me to my Trigonometry class and talked to
me as if I weren't queer or crazy.

   "You look great, Jerry. Really," Robbie said. "Great."

   He didn't even ask why I looked like Miss Teen America, but I told him
anyway.

   Robbie's eyes got wide and he said, "Coooolllll!!! Did he give you a
ring and everything?"

   Huh? Was I the only sane person left on earth?

   "Robbie!!" I said. "That's your only question? Doesn't anything about
all this seem odd to you?"

   Robbie looked at me and said. "Well, yeah. The intensity of Jason's love
for you and his persistence. That's really unusual...and romantic. Can I
see your ring?"

   Dumbfounded, I offered Robbie my left hand.

   His eyes got very big and he whistled. "Wow! Two carats! You're so
lucky."

   Then Robbie left me to go to his second period class.

   They couldn't all be that crazy in Venezuela.

   Somehow I survived the day, then met Mom for my "makeover" at the beauty
salon.

   Again, it was a Twilight Zone experience. Mom introduced me to everyone
as her daughter Nicole, who just got engaged. Everyone oohed and aahed over
my ring, even the women who had known me as Jerry all my life. Was I
literally born yesterday?

   I must admit that the pampering they gave me was kind of nice. And the
results were spectacular. I got a beautiful manicure and pedicure (which
would probably have to be ruined in Venezuela) and they styled my hair
beautifully. The most startling thing they did was make me a blonde. I
didn't feel my IQ drop, but maybe I had become too dumb to notice.

   What I did notice was that, by any measure, I was a four-star babe. I
looked at myself from every angle and found myself once again in a stiff
condition. Mom noticed and whispered something to Flo, the salon owner. I
was so wrapped up in observing my delicious self in the mirror that I
almost didn't notice when Flo put her hand under my skirt and into my
panties to tickle my popsy to some milky relief, which sprayed all over the
salon's full-length mirror.

   Driving home with Mom, I was so strangely pleased with my blonde beauty
that I almost forgot my despicable predicament. Beginning with another
dinner date with Jason, my alleged fiancé. Ick!!!!

   Mom helped me get dressed again. That time it was all in black --
lingerie, silky stockings, strappy sandals, and classic little black
dress. All of which looked fantastic with my new, blonde beauty.

   The diamond ring looked great on my hand, now that I had beautifully
manicured nails and two coats of red polish. I could even see my red
toenails <blush> through my black stockings.

   Jason practically hyperventilated when he saw me. Gosh. The poor sap
really did love me so. No wonder, I was beginning to think that I was
delicious.

   He took me to a nice Italian place, where I got even more and hotter
stares (gentlemen do prefer blondes). I had to admit that the attention
raised my popsy.

   I didn't mind Jason's company either. The poor sap was so devoted to
me. It was icky, but kind of nice too. Jason told me his life story as we
ate. I liked that he had a bit of a self-deprecating sense of humor. And he
said cute, romantic things, such as, "My life really began the day I fell
in love with you." I blushed when he said that. And oddly, my peeny
twitched.

   When Jason and I got to my home, Mom and Dad had gone to bed, even
though it was only 9 p.m. and Dad had never missed a night flopped in front
of the TV since I had known him. The lights in the family room were low and
Mom had spritzed some scent around the room.

   Except for a little hello kiss, Jason hadn't kissed me all night, which
was just fine with me, thank you. I was praying that he would go home, but
sort of wishing for a little kissing (just a little and NO tongue) and a
nice milking too, since my ego had been stroked all night but not my
pricklet.

   It seemed a waste to make myself so beautiful and then not make someone
just a little happy.

   Jason seemed to agree. He sat on the couch and held his arms out to
me. OK, now what happened next was not my fault. I intended just to sit
next to Jason, kiss him a few times to, you know, sort of pay my share of
the dinner tab, then lie back and let him reach into my panties and do some
magic tricks. Nothing gay. Or too gay.

   But I still wasn't 100% competent in my heels and, walking over to sit
NEXT to Jason, I tripped -- completely unintentionally -- and landed with
my pantied bottom on Jason's lap.

   Well, I fully intended to correct my error, but Jason sighed deeply
(probably thinking what I did was intentional) and sort of held me in his
arms. I had never sat on anyone's lap since I was about five. It was very
nice. And Jason's kisses were so sweet and loving that I just sort of
forgot all the baggage for a moment and enjoyed them. I felt so warm and
comfortable and loved and that's not bad, right?

   I hate to admit it, but Jason took my breath away with his deep, tonguey
kisses. Oh. I did like being kissed. And so did my little pricklet. It was
tenting my panties and the skirts of my little black dress.

   Jason noted my predicament and said, "Stand up a minute, Sweetheart, and
I'll pull your panties down so I can milk you properly."

   I bit my lower lip and batted my eyes at Jason as I stood and let him
pull my panties down. Why did I do that? My panties were around my ankles
as I eagerly ground my bare bottom into Jason's rock hard crotch. Geez, I
was such a little tramp. But I was comforted by the fact that I did have
definite limits. A big, wide, no-gay zone that I would not enter. Nope. No
way. Uh uh.

   For the first time, Jason's hand touched my bare peeny. The tiny jewel
was enflamed with arousal and the skin was all the way back. The little
pink head was engorged with blood and feather-sensitive. I was pretty sure
that Jason would be making me cum in very short order.

   Jason held me in his left arm and smelled the Angel perfume on my
neck. He kissed my pink throat as his fingers burned my throbbing
peener. Jason was as good a stroker as he was a kisser. Despite myself, I
was gasping and whimpering as Jason kissed me deeply and wanked me
expertly.

   The night was going better than I thought it would.

   I was in a full sexual dither and wouldn't be able to hold on for very
long. Jason kissed me sweetly, stopping only to say, "I love you" in a very
nice way.

   Maybe I had misjudged him.

   Pretty soon, my balls boiled and I did a very bad thing. I squealed as I
shot my sticky cream all over Jason's manly hand. Was it true? Was I really
a little sissy faggot?

   Jason seemed to be avoiding bigger questions like that. He was watching
with delight as my three-inch tickler pumped a quart of creamy juices into
the air and into Jason's hand.

   I was so ashamed. Wasn't I?

   When the last of my juices left my pink bag, and my breathing settled a
bit, I was very surprised to see Jason licking clean the hand I had gooied
over moments earlier.

   Did people lick other people's cum? Ick.

   Still, it was so intimate. And more evidence of the man's love for me.

   I was apprehensive about what was to happen next. Did Jason expect me to
do "things" to his big, nasty cock? Well, he could just forget that. I
mean, I would touch it. Maybe. Because he had been so nice. And I knew how
it hurt to need a ball-draining. But that was it. I hadn't even seen it
yet, but my reconnaissance indicated a massive body of manflesh.

   Very much in charge, Jason seemed to have a completely different agenda.

   After kissing me for another 15 glorious minutes and stroking me to
another stiffie, Jason asked me to get off his lap and lie on my back on
the couch.

   He had already told me that he wouldn't try to put his "business" into
my mouth or <gasp> my bottom until after the wedding <ick>. I believed him,
so I was puzzled by his request. Still, Jason was so masterful that I kind
of, you know, obeyed him.

   I was lying on my back with my head on the arm of the couch and very
comfortable, except for my painful stiffie. Looking at Jason. Whimpering
just a little for a little stiffie "first-aid."

   Jason smiled as he heard my little cries for a good milking.

   He lifted my stockinged legs gently and sat at the foot of the couch,
with my feet on his lap.

   What he did next you could have made me guess for a month and I would
have never gotten it. He began to massage my pretty, stockinged,
red-toenailed feet. At first, since I thought my popsy needed immediate
attention, I was disappointed. But he gave a very, very good foot
massage. Very good. Especially since I had been walking around in four-inch
heels all day. I could see where women (not me, of course) would think that
being married to Jason would be a great idea, just for the kissing and foot
massages.

   But the real surprise came after ten lovely, foot-massage-filled minutes
that had my pricklet twitching and my ball bag alive with sensation.

   Jason held my right foot in his left hand and lifted it to his mouth!
Then he began to kiss, lick and suck each of my toes through the silky
nylon.

   My eyes opened wide, I screamed like a little faggot and lost my goo all
over my new, little black dress. More splainin' to do to Mom.

   And he hadn't even touched my peeny. Or kissed my left foot.

   How did that happen?

   Not only did it feel REALLY good, I guess it was just so intimate.

   How did Jason get so good at all that stuff?

   I was barely out of my orgasmic fog when that nice man was doing his
magic on the toes of my left foot. Oh my! Boys never get to have fun like I
was having that night.

   My boy thing regained its solidity quickly as Jason kissed and loved my
sensitive toesies. Then that wet thing happened again as the sweet agony
struck me and I messied my dress yet again.

   Oh. What a night.

   Maybe I would do something nice for Jason after all. I was sure he would
let me know what he wanted.

   As my third cumstorm subsided, I opened my eyes and saw Jason looking at
me with that sappy, lovey look that was growing on me. I also saw that he
had opened his zipper and extracted what looked like a large, brown salami
with an unhooded, pink head.

   So that was what it looked like.

   It was scary.

   Huge.

   Erect.

   Dripping LOTS of sticky, watery goo.

   Thank goodness, I thought I would never have to take that thing into my
mouth or bottom. I mean, he promised not until we were married and there
was no way I would marry him.

   At that moment, he looked like a nice man in great need. I felt sorry
for him and wanted to help -- in a non-gay way.

   He showed me how.

   Jason placed my saliva-moistened, stockinged feet in his lap on either
side of his throbbing monster. I got the idea.

   Slowly, sensuously, I massaged Jason's cock shaft with my pretty feet. I
rubbed the nylon all along the burning flesh and enjoyed his moans of
ecstasy. Then I used the sides of my big toes to carefully skin back
Jason's long foreskin.

   He liked that a lot. He liked it even more when I rubbed my toes all
over the most sensitive spots on his cockhead. I was such a little tart,
but I was enjoying his ecstatic grunts and loving words very much.

   It looked like Mount Saint Helen's erupting when the highly aroused man
lost his load to the soft attentions of my pretty feet. Cum was flying a
foot in the air as Jason groaned loudly enough to make a normal mom and dad
run down the stairs or call 9-1-1. I didn't have normal parents.

   Jason really, really enjoyed that orgasm. It was as if it were the best
moment in his life or something. I was almost happy for him. But that would
have been gay, so I couldn't be.

   I'll admit that I did like it when Jason drew me to a seating position
and kissed me a lot again. I kissed him back every time and even asked him
if we would be going out again the next night.

   I guess I was surprised when he told me that we couldn't date every
night because it wouldn't be proper.

   Proper? He just wanked me to one orgasm and sucked my toes to two
more. Then I gave him a footjob for a big gooblast. Proper? He had some
funny ideas.

   I was a little pissed about that. I mean, not that I liked him or
anything, but he was more fun than hanging out at the malt shop or watching
MTV.

   I guess I pouted a little when I kissed him goodbye. He said later on,
which I dispute, that there was a tear in my eye when he told me he
couldn't see me until the day after next.

   <Sigh> Jason was growing on me.

   When I went upstairs, Mom came out of her room, noted my disheveled
appearance, cum-soaked dress and cummy feet and once again, drew all the
wrong conclusions. How can she be so off the mark so often?

   I was so tired from my cummy workout that, after getting myself ready
for bed and into a lovely, silky, baby blue nightie, I fell right to sleep.

   The next morning I awoke to a very strange sight.

   My father was sitting on my bed, at my side. He had my covers down to my
knees, my nightie raised to my tummy, and his right hand was gently
massaging my penis.

   What?

   I sat up. "What are you doing, Daddy?" I yelled.

   Daddy kept milking me. "Calm down, Honey. This was your mother's
idea. She says that I need to do this from now on for you when you need
it. Mom says sissies need man to milk them, not women. And she says she's
tired of doing all the work in this wedding."

   Oh no!! It was awful! I lay back and covered my face with shame. And
started to enjoy Daddy's stroke. He was very good. Must have wanked himself
quite a bit over the years. Oh, being masturbated by my Daddy! It was so
dirty! I blew big cummies in about 30 seconds. Daddy stroked me to make
sure every drop was ejaculated, then kissed my cheek and went off to get
ready for work.

   My life wasn't quite normal any more.

   Mom left me alone to get ready that morning and I did pretty well. I
looked excellent in my black stockings, black, stiletto sandals, black mini
and white top. My titty bumps were showing through my top and my blonde
hair said, "boytoy." It was awful. Mostly.

   Mom drove me to school again and asked her usual dumb questions. The
biggest was, "Did you ask Robbie yet?"

   Huh? "What do you mean, Mom?"

   "Nicole, the wedding is in 24 days. You have to ask him soon."

   When she saw my dumb look, Mom said, "To be your maid of honor, my
little dumb bunny."

   Huh?

   Wheels turned in my blonde's brain. Of course. That was why Robbie had
acted so matter-of-factly with a twist of envy. My best friend was a sissy!

   Omigosh. Was he partly responsible for the mess I was in? Had Robbie
been telling my parents things about me that weren't true? Did Robbie wear
<gasp> panties under his boy things?

   Mom saw my shocked look and gave me a consoling hug. "I'm very surprised
that you never suspected, Nicole. You really are quite innocent. It's
charming in a way, but it's wasting time too. Ask Robbie today!"

   I was so surprised by that turn of events that I hardly noticed the
change in my peers' attitudes as I walked from Mom's car to English
class. There were still catcalls, but far fewer. And after my makeover and
"blonding up," there were quite a few hard bulges in boys' pants as they
watched me wiggle along.

   I didn't get a chance to talk to Robbie until after class, but when I
did, I asked him to be my maid of honor as Mom suggested. I was half-hoping
that he would call me a name and storm off, his male pride singed. But when
he squealed with glee, hugged me and asked when we were going shopping for
dresses, another nail entered my coffin of doom.

   Et tu, Robbie?

   That day in school was extra weird, you know, because guys, including
some of the cool guys who would have never given me the time of day were,
you know, sort of being nice to me. Talking to me and stuff. Didn't they
know that I was really a boy? Didn't they know that I didn't have a pussy
(which is what boys want more than anything)? Was I truly the only sane
person left in my life?

   Didn't they even know that I was engaged? I mean, the ring was big
enough!

   Do you believe I was even thinking that?

   When Mom picked me up, she wanted to know all about Robbie's response
about being my maid of honor. She could have at least looked a tiny bit
surprised when I told her that he almost peed his pants with
happiness. Probably his panties, the sissy.

   When we got home, Mom sat me down and went over wedding preparation
details with me. She had already registered for our china and silver, but
did me the courtesy of at least picking between two patterns for the ones I
wanted. She showed me the invitations and the list, which were going out
that day.

   I was in agony. It was going to be a huge wedding -- 300 people --
everyone I had ever known was included. My shame would be spread far and
wide. Secretly, of course, I knew that I would jilt Jason before the big
day and run off somewhere, so it was all moot. But it still hurt.

   When Daddy got home, he insisted that he milk me. I don't know whether
it was a duty thing or if he got turned on by stroking the tiny cock of his
pantied son. But once again, I was horribly humiliated and painfully turned
on. Daddy had me stand as he sat. I pulled my panties down to mid-thigh and
yes, I was stiff and drippy. Walking around all day with silky panties
rubbing your popsy would stiffen you too. Plus all the attention I was
getting from men and boys had an effect on me as well.

   Daddy was VERY good at milking. He rubbed my bottom cheeks very nicely
with his free hand and that enhanced the naughty experience quite a bit. I
covered my face with shame, but was soon helplessly ejaculating my creamy
goo into a Kleenex held in just the right position by Mom. All in all, a
family Kodak moment.

   It seemed odd to be having dinner with the family instead of Jason. I
found myself thinking of him just a little. About his lips, mostly, and how
good they felt on mine. And that sappy way he seemed to be completely in
love with me. Did I actually miss him? And where exactly that evening was
this man who was engaged to me? With some trashy tart somewhere?

   After dinner, I did some school stuff, then got ready for bed. Dad said
he would be by at 10 for my bedtime milking. It was an icky thought, but I
thought that I should at least look pretty for him. So I fluffed my hair up
and put on my prettiest pink nightie.

   At 9:30, the phone rang. It was Jason! For some stupid reason, my heart
fluttered. He wasn't with some trampy tart. He was next door, thinking of
me.

   We talked for awhile about each of our days. Jason sounded really
sympathetic about the controlling way Mom was treating me. I had to admit
that Jason had been nicer to me than anyone in my whole life.

   I must have sounded like some lovesick little pussyboy when I said, "I
missed you Jason."

   I could almost feel Jason's heart explode with love.

   "I missed you too, Sweetheart," Jason said. "I love you so much. I won't
be able to see you tomorrow, either, though."

   My stomach sank. "Why not?" I asked, poutily.

   "Your Mom is taking you and Robbie to look at dresses. She has it
narrowed down to seven gowns, and she's going to let you choose the one you
want."

   Mom had this wedding planned like the Normandy invasion.

   I wanted something right then, though, and somehow I found the courage
to ask for it.

   "Jason," I said. "Daddy's been milking me."

   "He's a good man, Honey," Jason said. "I wouldn't want you to suffer."

   Hmmm. <Gulp> "He's supposed to be here to milk me again, Jason. But I
don't want him to."

   "Why not, Honey"

   <Sigh> "Because I want you to milk me, Jason. Please."

   In an elated voice, Jason said, "I'll be there before you can hang the
phone up." <Click>

   He was almost right. In less than two minutes, my bedroom door opened to
reveal a furiously happy Jason and a very smug Mom.

   "Thank you, Mrs. Adams," Jason said. Mom left, chuckling to
herself. Again with entirely the wrong idea. How could she be so dumb?

   Anyway, Jason saw me in bed in my pretty nightie and his heart seemed to
overflow. He stepped over to me, sat on the side of bed and drew me to his
strong arms.

   He kissed me hungrily. Remember, Jason was a great kisser. And I had
sort of ached for his kisses all day. Or maybe it was the aftereffects of
my school cafeteria lunch. Regardless, I kissed him back, with lots of
tongue. For quite a while.

   So, of course, my little thing was hot and stiff and drippy, just as it
always seemed to be around Jason.

   He asked me to lie on my back and I did. Then he pulled the covers down
to my knees and my nightie up to my belly button.

   My privates were totally exposed to Jason's loving stare. That made my
condition all the more critical.

   Jason took his time with me, inspecting my equipment slowly and
lovingly, with sweet comments as he did so.

   He lifted my testicles with the tips of his fingers, palm up.. He held
them as I blushed fiercely and gasped for air. "What perfect, little
pearls," Jason said. "Aching for a man's soft kisses. Oh, Darling, when
we're married, I'll worship them every day and empty them so many times
you'll be dry as often as you're filled with goo."

   I whimpered and stirred at the imagery.

   He held my pink bag up as he looked under them for my anus. He could
just barely see it so I <blush> moved my hips and spread my legs to give
him a better view.

   With his free hand, Jason touched my tight, brown-pink ring with the pad
of one fingertip. I whimpered and arched my back. It was so sensitive to
his loving touches.

   When he withdrew his fingertip, I was almost sorry.

   "Your little pussy is the hottest, tightest and most beautiful in the
world, my Darling. A man could lose himself in there and never want to
leave. When we're married, my tongue placed there will bring you unimagined
pleasures. And my cock ..."

   I could never let either of those happen. But hearing him say those
things was driving me crazy with hot lust.

   "Milk me, Jason." I gasped. "Please."

   "Of course, my Love," he said.

   He let my testicles fall back to a natural hang. Why were they so sore?
He hadn't squeezed them. Then he reached into his pocket and withdrew a
tube of lubricant. He squeezed some on my poor, twitching popsy and then
onto his hand. Oh. Then he rubbed me so very, very nicely, as he leaned
over and kissed me within and inch of my life.

   My mind formed this ridiculous image of Jason and me in a house with a
white picket fence. I was in a pretty dress and heels and I had big, C-Cup
titties and a big smile. Jason was holding me lovingly as I rested a
toddler boy on my right hip. We all looked incredibly happy.

   Did I really want a life with Jason? Of course not. We were both men. I
wasn't going to... Unnnnhh. I was cumming so hard my eyes popped. Hot goo
was spraying everywhere. Jason was tonguing my mouth and loving me so much
and I saw the white picket fence again. Unnnnnnnh Unnnnhhh.

   I was exhausted, but Jason kept kissing me and rubbing my fresh, hot cum
all over my privates. Especially my tender balls. That felt so good. He
even rubbed some cum between my asscheeks, then rubbed the outside of my
wrinkled treasure with his cummy finger.

   I'm only human. I was stiff and panting again in short order and before
long, spurting my guts out for the man who loved me.

   MUCH BETTER than Daddy's milkings. And Daddy was no amateur.

   I was drenched with my own goo and feeling as if I had been run over
with a love truck, but I had to reciprocate. Jason was delighted when I
suggested it and he got up, removed his trousers and sat in my room's nice
chair.

   I sissied over to him and sat in his lap. Bare bottom against hairy
thigh.

   It was impossible, but I was stiff and needy yet again.

   But this was Jason's time, so I looked at his monster close up for the
first time.

   It was scary.

   My stuff was all pink and pretty. Jason's was all dark brown and hairy
and nasty. Manly. It was also almost three times as long as mine and
several times thicker. He could kill me with that thing! Not that I was
planning on letting him.

   He smiled at me as he saw my shock and awe. Blushing, I touched Jason's
cock for the first time with my hand. He moaned in appreciative lust.

   The foreskin was about the size of Monaco. I pulled it back and giggled
to see how pink the head was when I uncovered it. It was leaking viscous
goo at a steady rate. Clearly, I excited Jason. I was so desirable, I
guess.

   Jason was squirming very nicely when I inspected his equipment. It was
so hot to the touch. Every drop of the man's blood seemed to have moved to
his penis. The huge thing had no trouble holding four or five pints of
blood either.

   Jason had a big, blue vein running up the right side of his
penis. Naughtily, I wet my fingertip and ran it all along the vein's
extensive length. He liked that. So I did it again. He liked it again,
leaking lots more gooey stuff onto my red fingernails.

   I felt that if I had told Jason to bark like a chicken at that moment,
he would have figured out a way to do it for me.

   But Jason needed some serious relief, so I spat on my hand and rubbed my
little palm and delicate fingers all around his ultra-sensitive
cockhead. Getting into a steady, stroking rhythm, I resumed my kissing
assault on the mouth that had said all those sweet things to me.

   Poor Jason. I think he wanted to last a long time before he came, but I
was too delicious for him. After only about five minutes, he grunted hard,
said "I love you, Nicole," and threw huge, thick ropes of hot cum three
feet into the air. It was Fourth of July in the bedroom, with cummy
sparklers filling the skies.

   Imagine that spunk exploding into a bottomhole, I mused. Well, it
wouldn't be mine.

   After Jason splattered everything in sight, he kissed me and thanked me
for being the most wonderful, beautiful person on earth. Wow. A girl, I
mean, a guy really likes to hear that stuff.

   I was tired, but didn't want Jason to go. So I asked, quite innocently,
"Will you stay and sleep with me tonight?" I just wanted to cuddle, you
know.

   Jason looked as if he SERIOUSLY wanted to accept my offer, but instead,
he said, "Not until we're married Nicole, my Love and my Life. It wouldn't
be proper."

   Proper, schmoper. I was horny, I mean in need of cuddling, then. So I
blurted out, "What if I don't marry you, Jason?"

   He looked at me sadly, but confidently too. "That would break my heart,
Nicole. But I want to keep showing you how much I love you so you'll say 'I
do' when the time comes."

   Fat chance, I thought. But I smiled and kissed him goodbye. He probably
took it the wrong way too when I asked if he would take over the morning,
after-school and nighttime milkings from Daddy from now on.

   Why did he think I loved him? Or wanted him? Or would marry him? Men are
so strange.



   Chapter Four -- Mid-Engagement

   True to his word, Jason was there the next morning when I woke up. He
gave me some very sweet kisses and a spectacular milking that almost split
my tummy in two when I made cummies. Then Jason sort of gave me an encore
performance, stroking and kissing me until I was gasping, panting,
whimpering and cumming like the sissy I knew I wasn't.

   Oh, my. It was getting late and I didn't think I would have time to give
Jason the nice payback he had certainly earned, but he was sweet about that
too. He said, "Sweetie, you'll be late for school. Just go ahead and I'll
see you for your bedtime kisses and milkies."

   My eyes filled with tears. Why did that happen? "You won't be with me
again tonight? Two nights in a row? Why? Are you mad at me?" Do you believe
I went on like that? I probably wasn't fully awake yet.

   Jason took me in his arms and held me tenderly, kissing my eyelids to
rid me of my tears. "Oh, my Angel. I want to be with you always. But
remember, your mother is taking you and your maid-of-honor dress shopping
this afternoon and evening. And the groom can't be part of that. And since
you'll be gone this afternoon, I won't be able to give you your afternoon
milking."

   He was right. Why was I being such a needy little twit? Why did I make a
big pouty face?

   Not quitting when I was behind, though, I asked, "Can you come over
early? Before the 10 p.m. milking? As soon as we get home?"

   Where was my pride?

   And why was I so happy when he promised and kissed me again and again?

   Were things getting out of hand? Jason's cock was in my hand as I kissed
him like I meant it, skinned him sweetly for about ten minutes, watched his
cumstorm in dazed awe, kissed him some more, then shooed him away so I
could get ready for school.

   I was definitely losing it. So why was I so happy?

   Why, that day at school, did I write "Nicole Clark" and "Mrs. Jason
Clark" over and over again in my notebooks?

   That afternoon, Mom picked me up as usual and said Faith was getting a
ride from her mother and would meet us at Monique's House of Brides.

   Faith?

   "That's what Robbie calls himself when he's en femme, Nicole. He's
really quite pretty, but nowhere near as pretty as my little engaged girl."

   "You've seen Robbie dressed as a girl, Mom?" I was very surprised. Was I
the last to be clued in on everything? Or did I just have my head down the
first 18 years of my life?

   "Of course, Dear. Robbie's just like you in many ways, so I was sure you
would be perfect as a girl. And you are."

   We rode the rest of the way in silence. It was all clear to me. I was in
a Robert Ludlum novel. Everyone I knew had a secret related to me. A deep
secret that affected me strongly. It was all unraveling. It was called "The
Nicole Memorandum" or its musical version, "Nicole, Nicole!"

   Arriving at Monique's I spotted "Faith" waiting outside. He was cute. He
had a curly wig on, but the legs under that tiny mini were Robbie's and
they were pretty sexy. He had done a great job on his make-up and was
walking with confidence in some very cute red, four-inch-stiletto, sandaled
mules.

   I was taken back when Faith greeted me with a little kiss on the
lips. It was nice, though. Something Robbie and I would have died before
doing, but with Faith, it was OK.

   "She" was very giddy about trying on dresses, even though most
bridesmaids' dresses are pretty awful and you never really get to wear them
to anything again. Maybe she was giddy about seeing me in wedding gowns.

   Well, it was a giddy experience for me too. Mom had picked out seven
little numbers for me: a satin strapless A-line with a beaded split front;
the same gown, but with detailed hand beading at the neck, waist and hem;
and embroidered cafe lace jacket with hand beading over elegant satin
A-line (what was she thinking on that one?); a satin halter A-line with a
flower at waist and a sweep train (tempting); a satin molded bodice with
hand- beaded trim and tulle skirt; an organza A-line with beaded
embroidery, split back with cathedral train; and my favorite, the spaghetti
strap beaded chiffon gown with delicate Schiffli lace.

   I had worn white stockings to school that day and Monique let me borrow
white satin pumps. Except for the actual moments of cumming while I was
being kissed and loved by Jason, I had never experienced anything as
exciting as trying on those dresses.

   I felt as if all my maleness was fleeing me at once. Mom, Faith and
Monique were ooohing and aaahing as I fluttered around like a fairy-tale
princess. I was stunningly lovely! And I felt incredibly good.

   That had two major effects on me. First, it scared the panties off me. I
was a boy, darn it. This was only my fourth day as a "girl" and I was
pretty sure that, while girlishness had its charms, I wanted to spend my
life as a male. Plus, while I liked Jason a little, he was "making' me
gay. Which is not good, right? And, he kept telling me that he was going to
put that huge thing of his inside me. Which I knew would kill me. And I
didn't want to die.

   Second, the wonderful feelings I got from trying on the bridal gowns
severely tented my panties. I was in considerable distress.

   Monique, who was an old pro at selling gowns to "girls" like me, saw my
predicament and offered me relief. I was embarrassed, but also very
grateful. As instructed, I went to the dressing room, removed my gown and
waited for Monique and her practiced hand. The pinch hitter who took her
place was a happy surprise.

   Faith, who was in the same state that I was, volunteered to milk me and
Monique gracefully deferred to my lifelong friend.

   The first thing she did was kiss me hotly. I liked that a lot. Then she
shimmied off her blouse, slip and skirt. I liked that too. We were in our
bras, panties, garter belts, stockings and big heels. And both of us were
in severe need of milky relief.

   I hugged Faith and felt her warm body rub against mine. The tips of our
pricklets were rubbing through our panties and our tongues explored each
other's mouths. Mmmmm. It wasn't as good as it was with Jason, I'll gaily
admit, but it was very nice.

   I rubbed my soft hands up and down Faith's back. She purred nicely
through our kiss. I felt her pantied bottom, gently caressing the plump,
pink globes as we rubbed popsies and licked each other's lipstick.

   Then I became a bit more aggressive, reaching into her panties via her
bottom and skinning them down to her mid-thigh. Faith shuddered with
pleasure, then reciprocated.

   We stood facing each other, pretty privates exposed to each other's
lustful eyes. I blushed, but took Faith's peener into my hand and felt its
heat and size. Her girlish penis was different from my own -- circumcised
and at least 75% bigger in volume than my teeny weenie. Which made it a
little more than half the volume of Jason's weapon of mass destruction.

   It was red and drippy as I rubbed its head and kissed its owner. I
slipped my hand down to give her balls a nice cuddle and she moaned
appreciatively. It was so nice doing intimate things with someone I had
been friends with forever. It seemed so natural and logical.

   Between kisses, Faith said, "I've wanted to do this with you forever,
Nicole. I knew Nicole was the real you, not Jerry."

   Everybody knew but me? Was I stupid? Or were they all wrong?

   We were so steamed up by the whole scene and the lovely kissing and
girlie love that we were soon spurting our sticky sissy cream all over each
other and squealing like little faggots. In other words, we were having a
great time.

   Then Faith did something extra naughty. She got on her knees and licked
my tummy and privates clean of both of our cum loads. That wasn't all. When
I was spit shined, Faith took my little prick into her hot, wet mouth!

   Oh.

   She licked and kissed and swirled her tongue around the sensitive
head. I was holding my arms up, bent at the elbow and making little
sissyfists. I was squealing like a little girl playing tag and in very
short order, pouring a hot, cummy load down my best friend's pretty throat.

   That was incredible! Incredible! Of course I was also racked by guilt
and shame. And, though I knew reciprocation was the right thing to do, I
was repulsed by the gayness of it.

   Well, maybe not completely repulsed, because I sort of got on my knees
and sort of licked Faith's tummy clean of cum. Then I sort of took her cock
in my mouth and let instinct sort of guide me in sucking my first sissy
wee. I was expecting the sky to open and a lightning bolt strike me
down. But it didn't. And Faith didn't mind that I was inexperienced. She
kept wiggling and whimpering most sissily. Then her pretty eyes got wide
and I got my first-ever mouthful of hot, freshly squeezed cum, right from
the natural spring.

   I loved it. <Blush>

   But I knew I wasn't gay. I could stop all this any time I wanted. Go
back to wearing boy's clothes. Be happy.

   Of course Mom picked that moment, when I was on my knees and my mouth
full of Faith's pricklet and cum, to burst in to tell us to hurry up.

   Again, I'm sure she formed the wrong impression. That smug look on her
face was completely unwarranted.

   Mom left us. We kissed and cooed a little, then pulled our panties up
and went out for more gown shopping.

   Faith was going to be a fun friend.

   We finished around 7 p.m. Faith picked a spaghetti-strap, drape-front
georgette, with wrap in a "misty haze" color, even though I suggested that
lilac suited her better. Still we both looked stunning. Especially me. Even
though I wasn't planning on wearing the gown in public, ever. But you knew
that.

   On the way home, we stopped off at a favorite girlie place of Mom's for
girlie salads. I was in a hurry, since Jason promised to come over, to my
bedroom, as soon as I got home and <blush> I was really eager to see
him. Since he was very nice to me. And understanding. I wasn't falling in
love with him or anything, OK?

   We dropped Faith off, then got home at 8:15. Mom smirked again when I
told her Jason would be over. I said hi to Daddy and told him a little
about my day. Then the doorbell rang. Was it...? It was. Jason!!!!!!!!!!

   I missed the poor sap. Very much. But no way was I telling Mom or him
that. They would draw the wrong conclusions.

   I did kiss Jason, though, at the front door. Kind of an XX-rated
kiss. Between an X and an XXX. Not an R, definitely. And use parental
guidance, to keep the kids, even those over 13, away from that kiss.

   I guess Mom and Daddy saw, but geez. I hadn't seen Jason for 13
hours. And he was nice. You know.

   I grabbed Jason's hand and sort of dragged him up to my room, where I
closed the door, then flung myself into his arms.

   "Oh, my darling," he said. "You make me so happy. I love you so."

   See? The guy is nice.

   Well, I didn't tell him I loved him because I didn't. We're both
guys. Understand? Anyway, I couldn't because my tongue was halfway down his
throat.

   Before I knew it, my blouse, skirt and slip were off. Come to think of
it, I took them off. And I think I also pulled Jason's trousers and boxers
off, freeing "the creature," which was erect and pointing halfway up his
chest.

   Jason lifted me as if I weighed nothing and carried me to my bed. He lay
next to me and kissed me into a near-coma, tickling my bag and milking my
popsy to an excellent, messy cum.

   Then he introduced me to something extra nice.

   My little nipples were puffing out more every day and I had what you
could almost call actual titties, thanks to all the industrial-strength
hormones Mom was pumping into me every day. I loved feeling my silky,
A-minus cup bra rub against their puffy sensitivity.

   Jason gently lifted my bra and, for the first time, my "titties" were
exposed to a lustful man's view.

   I was actually trembling in anticipation of what he would do. Whatever
it was, I knew it would be, gentle, loving and wonderful.

   The loving man wet his right index finger with a little dollop from my
cum-drenched belly. Then he rubbed the cummy pad of his finger with the
tiniest amount of pressure on my tender right nipple.



   Unnnnhhh!!!! I arched my back, squealed loudly, and blew three big
spurts of my sticky cream all over my girlish self. I couldn't help it. I
was in sweet agony.

   Jason smiled in satisfaction at his discovery. Would I do that every
time he touched my nipples?

   Jason decided to find out.

   He rubbed another tiny glop of fresh cum on my left nipple. I grunted
and bit my lip. The sensitivity was exquisite. Then the man who loved me
pressed his lips to my left nipple, kissing it with hot, feather-light
pecks that felt like Tomahawk missiles hitting my vulnerable targets. When
Jason gave my left titty a gentle suck, I reached back to grab the bars of
the headboard, leaving myself open and defenseless. Jason exploited my
weakness, kissing and licking my nipples alternately as he cuddled my balls
with fingers lubricated with my own cum.

   I almost pulled the headboard apart when I came that time. I didn't have
much sticky juice left in me, only watery drops, but my cum felt like a
force-ten hurricane in my gut.

   That was what I missed when Jason wasn't with me. You see why I hung out
with him, right?

   I was so ...grateful...that strangely, I had an urge to suck Jason's
cock. Or at least to lick it a little. I told Jason that and he was so
sweet and loving. But he reminded me that I should be a virgin on our
wedding day. He wasn't putting his lovepole into my "pussy" or my mouth
until then.

   Rats.

   Not that I wanted that thing in my bottom. But that sucky thing I did
with Faith's popsy was great. And <blush> I knew it would be better with
Jason.

   He saw my disappointment and made a very good suggestion. Would I like
to lick and suck his balls as I milked him?

   Would I? Yesssssss!!!!!

   His balls were as big as jumbo eggs and they must have weighed ten
pounds. His wrinkled bag was dark and hairy. They looked delicious.

   Jason lay on his back and pulled his shirt up to his belly button.

   What a sight. Muscles. Hair. Cock. And those tasty-looking balls.

   This was better than trying on wedding dresses. For sure.

   First, I gave Jason's big rammer a thorough, manual inspection, which he
liked very much. I had to unhood it, of course, to get to the sensitive,
pink parts. His peehole was rapidly leaking semen. I wanted to kiss it away
and lick it up, but we had that rule of his. So I just used my manicured
fingernails to open the lips of his peehole and just give it the tiniest
kiss. Lips to lips. Jason didn't get mad at me for that. He just groaned
and said he loved me. All those times he said that to me, and I hadn't said
it once. Because I didn't, really. It would be gay to say that, even if I
did.

   I didn't want to disobey Jason -- he was so masterful as well as loving
-- so I didn't kiss his penis anymore. Instead, I wanked it gently as I
turned my attention to his huge balls.

   I put my nose next to them and drew in their musk. There's no smell like
that of a man in full arousal. And Jason was aroused beyond measure. The
hairs tickled my nose and I giggled girlishly. Jason moaned very lustfully.

   Tentatively, I extended my tongue to Jason's left testicle. The bag was
all wrinkled and apparently very sensitive, because Jason lurched a
little. Jason stroked my blonde curls as I kissed every pore of his balls,
lifting the heavy bag to get access to the sensitive, and
sometimes-overlooked underside of his testicles. Men love having their
testicles gently kissed, you know. They like it even more when their balls
are licked and sucked by someone who is pretty, smells nice and wears filmy
lingerie. That was me, ladies and gentlemen.

   I orally worshipped Jason's balls as I worked his foreskin up and
down. His ecstatic reactions were worth the price of admission. The man was
in my complete control and totally in love with me. If that doesn't give
one a stiffie, girls, one is probably dead.

   Jason's verbal abilities were reduced to mumbles and grunts. And after
ten glorious minutes, he showed me, rather than told me how mush he loved
me by blowing a huge, spunky load all over himself.

   Was I bad when I licked most of his muskier-and-tastier-than-Faith's goo
off his tummy? Jason didn't think so. When I finished, he drew me to his
bosom and kissed me for half an hour, rubbing his limp monster against my
little thingee until we were both hard and cumming once again.

   I didn't want him to leave, but at 11 p.m. he departed, saying there
were proprieties and I needed my sleep. He would be by at 6 for my morning
milking.

   We kissed like two people in love (even though I wasn't).

   I would miss Jason a little when I was in Venezuela.

   The next week was a blur.

   Jason came by for my milkings, three times a day, and they were
incredibly, fabulously wonderful. True to his word, we didn't go any
farther, since he was "saving me" for our marriage. Which was something I
probably should have started thinking about trying to stop at some point.

   There was always the moment when I'm asked to say, "I do," but I say, "I
don't." Boy, would that frost Mom! That part of it was very appealing to
me. But hurting Jason like that was something I definitely did not want to
do. I had feelings for him. Nice feelings. Even though a marriage of two
guys would never work. And he could never get that thing of his in me.

   Jason and I went out to dinner a lot too, which was very nice. We had
intelligent conversations about lots of things. And I got to wear pretty
dresses and accept lots of hot stares from almost every man we saw.

   I didn't go to the salon again until my 11th day of girlishness, which
was the day before my high school graduation. A good thing too, because I
was looking a little "off," what with all the milkings wearing me out (in a
GREAT way).

   Faith joined me at the salon that day. She had decided that high school
was the dividing line in her life. She wasn't going to pretend to be a boy
anymore, beginning with graduation. I was proud of her. I was also sucking
her cock at least once every day. And she was sucking mine. Sissies need
other sissies, you know. I wasn't a sissy, but I was pretending to be one
for my friend Faith.

   The day before our salon extravaganza, Mom had gone to school and
"convinced" the principal to allow both Faith and me to graduate in pretty
dresses, with our girl names being read from our altered diplomas. I don't
know how Mom convinced the principal, but she was walking strangely for a
few days afterwards.

   Mom can be very persuasive.

   Faith was brimming over with good thoughts and questions about the
so-called wedding. For some reason, she was particularly interested in
Jason's best man, his one-year-younger, single brother Greg, who looked
awfully cute in the pictures I had seen. And Faith was very interested in
whether my felonious brother Danny would attend. As it turned out, he was
on work release and would be there. Him and his prison tattoos. For some
reason, Danny was wildly attractive to girls. And to his cellmates, I
imagined <giggle>. I have to admit that for all his faults, Danny was
always extremely good to me. Protective, even. Danny's not stupid or
mean. He just likes taking things that belong to other people.

   So Faith had the hots for Greg and Danny. And mostly anyone else with a
functioning cock. She was eager to discover her female sexuality with an
explosion of lust.

   Graduation went much better than I thought. Jason attended, of course,
with Mom and Dad and Danny. I shamed myself a little by throwing Jason
kisses from the stage. But nobody knew the kisses were for him, right?

   Jason was so sweet, telling me that I was the prettiest girl there that
night. He was right, but it was nice to hear.

   I was glad that Jason and Danny got along. Danny even said dopey things
like, "Welcome to the family" to Jason. Even though we weren't really
getting married. And I'm pretty sure that Jason LOST his watch that night
because Danny wouldn't do something like that to a nice guy like Jason.

   Jason still gave me ball-buster milkings and I came to live for
those. But I was still, like 92% against marrying him until the Saturday
one week after graduation and one week before the alleged wedding.

   After a lovely morning milking, I got "dolled up" as Jason directed and
we took off in his car for the suburbs. In the lovely little town of Lake
Trees, we drove with the top down, chatting as we always did. I had my
pretty red dress lifted up to my tan stocking tops, trying to tease Jason
into finding a secluded spot for some hot milk withdrawals.

   My feet looked so pretty in my barely-there, red, strappy,
five-inch-stiletto sandals, I was sure Jason would try something naughty
with me. Several truck drivers tooted, but Jason was focused on something
or other.

   At 11:08 a.m., I found out what it was.

   We pulled up to a beautiful, white, four-bedroom colonial house with,
get this, a white picket fence! Just like in my dream!

   Why were we there?

   Jason held my hand and silently led me to the front door. Using a key
from his key ring, he opened the door to a beautifully furnished and
carpeted home. I looked at the house. Then at Jason. My eyes asked the
question.

   His actions answered it. Jason picked me up and carried me across the
threshold.

   "This is our house, Darling. It's where we'll live and be happy and
raise our family. You didn't think we would stay next door to your parents,
did you?"

   I looked at the house. I looked at Jason. Hot tears burned my eyes. I
was crying happily, like a girl. A girl who was now only 60% sure she
wouldn't marry Jason. Maybe 55.

   He was so wonderful. I didn't deserve him. If I had been a girl, I would
have been begging him to marry me. But I wasn't a girl. Right?

   I threw my arms around Jason's neck and kissed him.

   "Oh, Jason!" I sobbed. "I love you so much !!! I can't marry you, but I
love you! You're the most wonderful man in the world. You know my dreams as
well as I do and you make then come true."

   Jason didn't believe for a moment that I wouldn't marry him. He was so
happy that I had finally said (admitted) that I loved him that he took me
upstairs to the bedroom and undressed me completely, except for my tan,
seamed stockings; red, five-inch-stiletto sandals; and ruffled, white
garter belt.

   I had never been that naked for him before. And, for the first time,
Jason undressed completely for me.

   His body was beyond description. Ripped and buff. Hard all over. Just
hairy enough. And he was so sweet and good to me. I had been so mean to say
I wouldn't marry him. I wouldn't, but I didn't have to say it.

   Jason lay on the king-sized bed and said, "We have all day and evening
alone, Sweetheart. Will you join me?"

   "Try and stop me," I said. And I threw my body on top of his.

   We kissed for a really long time, which made my popsy very needy.

   Jason was so excited, he almost punctured my stomach with that Godzilla
cock of his.

   Then he made me even happier. "Darling," he said. "Maybe I've been too
strict. I certainly won't put my penis in you before our wedding, but maybe
we could try some new things."

   Omigosh!!!! New things?!?! That sounded great!!!!

   "Like what, Jason?" I asked in the little-girl voice that stiffens his
prong every time.

   "Maybe I could show you some things about your body, especially your
anus that I know you would like. Let's try that first, OK?"

   "OK" <Little-girl giggle.> Girls have all the weapons, really.

   It all sounded scary, but great too.

   Jason asked me to lie on my tummy. He slipped two pillows under my hips,
elevating my pretty, pink bottom and cushioning my throbbing peeny.

   No one, including me, had ever entered my bottom with anything. It
appeared that streak was about to end.

   Jason covered my little body with his own, rubbing his manly, rippling
muscles all over my girlish skin. My whole body felt like a cunt for
him. Then he kissed my neck, my shoulders, and my back. He reached
underneath me and gently rubbed my little pancake titties with his strong
hands. I hadn't cum in four whole hours and I was in great need. I would
have cum just from the back kissing and titty massage. But then he started
kissing down my back. Those female hormones had been thinning my waist to
26 inches (and still shrinking) and my bottom was definitely becoming a
little bubble butt. He began to kiss that bubble, as I tried not to burst.

   Kiss after soft kiss assaulted my weak, rear defenses. He kissed every
exposed pore on my bottom, then held the cheeks apart to kiss the ones he
missed.

   I reached a new level of pleasure that day when Jason kissed the inner
folds of my bottom. It was so intimate and so dirty. I shuddered with lust.

   Jason licked up and down the inner portions of my cheeks. Then he went
for the jugular. Slowly, softly, almost imperceptibly, Jason began to lick
the tight ring of my anus. I squeaked when I felt it for sure for the first
time. When he dared to penetrate my boyish pussy with his tongue tip, I
screamed and creamed the top pillow until it was so wet it drenched the
lower pillow.

   Omigosh. He was licking my pussy. Eating me out, just as a man would a
girl. Sissies can enjoy the same pleasures as girls when they have a loving
man.

   He kept eating me through two more shivering, whimpering, sobbing
orgasms. Then he turned me over, discarded the drenched pillows, and
slipped two very large fingers into my sopping pussy, with great ease for
both of us. And intense pleasure for me.

   Jason ran his fingers in and out of my boyish pussy, kissing me and
telling me his love as I lost all sense of time and space. I was only aware
of pleasure and love for Jason.

   Then he added something even newer to his repertoire. With his fingers
still sweetly torturing my prostate, Jason, for the first time, took my
penis into his warm, wet mouth.

   I cried out and began to pump a full load of cum from balls thought to
be empty. The bliss was intense and sustained. This man was my universe. I
was heaving and drooling with love for him as my squeals and shivers
delighted us both.

   Jason devoured my sissy cream with relish. It was his first drink from
the tap and I wanted him to have many, many more.

   When I was dry, but still tingling with ecstasy, Jason released my popsy
from his mouth and moved up my body to deliver a long, cummy kiss.

   Heaven could never be that good.

   Jason looked into my eyes and said, "This is the bed where I'll make
love to you, my Darling, every day and night, as long as we live."

   At that moment, that seemed like a perfect definition of paradise.

   As we kissed, I realized that all that exploring in my pooper had me in
a bit of a needy state.

   I hated to leave Jason, but I said, "Honey, I need to do number
two. Will you wait for me?"

   Jason smiled and kissed me deeply. I tore myself away from that
beautiful man and sissy-ran to the bathroom.

   I really did need to poop and a very large amount slid out of me. I
wiped and was getting off the pot when I saw Jason enter the room.

   "Don't flush yet, Nicole," he said. "I want to show you something."

   Huh? I obeyed though.

   "Look here," Jason said," pointing at my poopy discharge. "That's bigger
and thicker than my cock. Which means, if something that big came out,
something a little smaller could go in."

   I looked at the poop. Then at Jason's rammer. He was right. Maybe I
could take that thing in me. Maybe I could marry him.

   I flushed the toilet. A warm feeling came over me as Jason lovingly
washed my bottom and my anus with a soapy washcloth. At that time, I was
completely and hopelessly in love with Jason.

   I wanted to suck his cock and he wasn't going to stop me.

   As it turned out, he didn't try.

   Jason sat on the end of the bed and I wiggled over to him. I knelt
between his thighs and held his cock in my right hand and his balls in my
left. Heaven yet again!

   I leaned over, drew a breath and crossed a big line. I began to kiss his
cock. All over. I had wanted to since the second or third day and now I was
kissing it. It twitched and Jason moaned appreciatively. Needing more
saliva to do the job properly, I skinned back the thick hood and began to
lick the big, pink helmet with great ardor. I cuddled Jason's balls with my
other hand as I decided to try and see if I could get the head in my
mouth. My early days as a choir boy helped, since I was able to stretch my
mouth just enough to take in the best meal I ever had.

   My mouth was crammed with cock. I used my tongue, the roof of my mouth
and my saliva glands to full advantage to wet and massage my fiancé's seat
of pleasure. He stroked my hair and called me every sweet name he could
think of. Jason wasn't a "Suck it, bitch" kind of guy. If he had been, he
wouldn't have been my guy.

   Poor Jason was very worked up and I was very sexy and beautiful, so he
couldn't last long. I had sucked Faith off like 20 times and knew what to
expect when the geyser blasts. Or so I thought. Jason's cum was a downpour,
versus the comparative trickles that sissies like Faith (and me, I guess)
produce. I was drowning in cum. And it was great. Glob after glob blasted
into my mouth. I swallowed what I could, but a lot dribbled out the sides
of my mouth, down my throat and all over my titties.

   Jason said later that he wished he had a camera because I had never
looked more beautiful.

   It was a great Saturday. One week remained until the wedding.



   Chapter Five -- The wedding

   I still had reservations about marrying Jason or any man, but the odds
were finally in his favor.

   Thanks to Mom's manic devotion to getting me married in record time, it
appeared that things would be happening exactly as she planned. Over 150
people had accepted the invitation, which meant I would be writing thank
you notes for months. That alone would be a good reason not to marry.

   There wasn't time to give me a bridal shower, but Jason's brother Greg
(the best man) offered to throw him a bachelor party. I told Jason to go
ahead and have a good time. Like I wanted my fiancé ogling some
superannuated stripper and having a hangover on our wedding day.

   Jason's answer made me love him even more. "I'd rather spend the evening
with you."

   Faith seemed to be Miss Flitaround that week. She was never around and
Greg and Danny seemed to be spending a lot of quality time with her. A
lot. My guess was that she would pick Greg, since Danny seemed to have
selected a career that would keep him away from his family in periods of
three to five years at a stretch.

   I really only saw Faith at the rehearsal dinner, where she sat very
closely with Greg. Danny didn't seem to mind, since Faith had introduced
him to a little cutie named Candy, who looked a lot like my high school
classmate Ralph Perez.

   That night, Jason and I had very little private time (a bone-crushing 69
was about it) and we said good night well before midnight, avoiding the bad
luck thing.

   I slept fitfully that night, still afraid of that old, but true adage --
"Marry in haste, repent at leisure."

   Should I stay in the identity of Nicole? If so, should I be marrying a
man? If so, was Jason the man? If so, should I be marrying Jason now?

   A lot of ifs.

   Because you can't see the groom on the wedding day, I didn't even get a
morning milking from Jason. I thought it would be Daddy and was very
surprised to wake up with the covers down, my nightie up and Mom's
practiced hand giving me a good seeing-to.

   Mom drained me very nicely, then kissed me lightly on the lips.

   "Big day, Honey," Mom said. "Anything on your mind?"

   Lots. But Mom wouldn't understand.

   Or maybe she would.

   "You're not sure, are you, Nicole?"

   My eyes filled with tears. Mom hugged me and said. "It's OK, baby
girl. We women all feel that way. And make no mistake, Honey. You're one of
us. Emotionally and darn near physically. You're an incredibly sexy and
beautiful woman and Jason's lucky to get you. But you've learned that
you're lucky to have him too, haven't you?"

   Mom was making sense. I nodded and said, "Yes."

   "I know you're apprehensive about a commitment like this," Mom said. "I
was too with your father. With any man. They're such babies, but they think
they're better than us, just because they're bigger and they stick their
big things in us."

   I blushed at that. Sex talk with my Mom.

   But she went on. "It's fun to be dominated in the bedroom, Nicole. Lying
there in submission to your Lord and Master as he rubs his 'business'
inside of you is the most fun there is. But don't think you have to be his
servant outside the bedroom."

   Good advice, Mom.

   "And another thing," she continued. "I'm guessing that you're worried
about Jason's huge business going into that tiny pussy of yours."

   I was deep red from blushing at that one, but I nodded and wept fresh
tears. Mom held me and said, "Don't worry, Baby Girl. Jason won't injure
you or hurt you. I'm tighter back there than you and Daddy's as big as
Jason. When he pushes this thing in my bottom, all I feel is pleasure. That
hole is like a nice rubber band. It stretches to fit the job."

   Omigosh. That was exactly what I needed to hear. Though the image of my
parents having sex would probably ruin my breakfast.

   Mom was a lifesaver. I hugged her and thanked her over and over.

   "Oh, Nicole. One last thing. If you're worried about spending the rest
of your life with just one man, don't. You may find some
...diversions...along the way. If you do, and Jason catches you, just cry
and sob and beg forgiveness. He'll probably spank you, an experience you
don't want to miss, but the make-up sex will be incredible."

   Geez. An entire course in marriage in fifteen minutes -- right after my
Mom tossed me off.

   "Nicole, just answer me this," she said, "Do you love Jason?"

   My eyes watered again. I cried out, "Oh, yes, Mom. I adore Jason. And he
loves me. I know he does."

   Mom took me into her arms, hugging and rocking me, saying, "There,
there, Baby. There, there."

   I knew what I would do. And I felt wonderful about it.

   Mom got me into a housecoat, fed me and hustled me off to Flo at the
beauty parlor. Flo did her magic on my face, hair and nails and I was back
home to get dressed by 11 a.m. for a 2 p.m. wedding.

   Faith was there in her "misty haze," AKA teal, dress to help me get
myself together. So was a very pesty photographer, who was going to be
posing us all the whole day.

   I loved my gown. I loved the way I looked in it. I loved the fact that I
would have a bijillion pictures of me in it. I loved the sexy underthings I
wore under my gown, including my blue garter. I loved my new earrings, my
old family pearls, and my borrowed pearl ring.

   Daddy looked terrific in his tux. The notion flashed through my mind
that he probably bought it with the money Jason gave him to sissify me. But
that wasn't the day for that kind of thinking.

   The limo arrived as we were outside taking family pictures. The limo
driver popped a woodie when he saw me. And he saw a bride every Saturday.

   I guess Mom was right. I would have been wasted as a boy.

   We arrived at church a fashionable 12 minutes late. Daddy kissed me
without spoiling my make-up. So did Mom. The usher seated Mom. Then the
music started. Faith led the short procession and Daddy took my arm.

   We started to walk and turned the corner into view of the
congregation. I spotted Jason standing there waiting for me. Happy. Very
happy. And so handsome in his tux.

   My heart filled with joy.

   I marched with Daddy down the aisle. He gave me to Jason, then joined
Mom in the pew. I took Jason's arm and gave him a happy smile.

   I almost didn't hear Father Murphy, so wrapped up was I in my happiness
and love. When he asked me if I took Jason, I impulsively said, very
loudly, "Oh yes! I love you so much, Jason." And I hugged and kissed
him. Not the way it was usually done, but the guests cheered, which doesn't
happen often either.

   The rest of the day was a
blur. Greeting. Kissing. Hugging. Dancing. Lots of pictures.

   My little pussy was quivering because I knew Jason and I would be in a
hotel that night before we went to Maui in the morning. And I knew that
Jason would be fucking me very soon. And very often.

   Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh.

   We changed into street clothes and sneaked out of the reception at 9
p.m. I was a girl in need of a fucking from my Lord and Master. I was his
possession to do with as he wished -- in the bedroom. I would take charge
of everything else, thank you.

   We waved good bye and kissed everyone. Then Jason whisked me off in his
new Acura (the man had money -- I liked that). We drove to the Radisson by
the airport and took the honeymoon suite, which Jason had booked for that
night back when I was ten years old.

   He carried me across the threshold and tipped the erect bellman
generously. Every man I met seemed to get a woodie. But the only woodie I
was interested in was the stiff business between my groom's legs.

   We kissed a little, but I wanted to get dressed properly before we got
serious, so I extracted a prepacked bag from my luggage and sissied into
the bathroom.

   My man was waiting and I was quite randy, so I hurried with my make-up
touches, making the eyes a little more dramatic. Then I put on a completely
transparent, white, tiny babydoll, seamed white stockings and puffy white
stiletto mules. My titties were as erect as my poor, needy popsy as I
breathed deeply, and opened the door to go meet my fate.

   My fate was already naked and lying on the bed with a stiff weapon of
mass destruction. Had it grown since we were married? Was Mom serious or
just lying to relax me?

   It didn't really matter, since I had resolved to take all of Jason into
me or die trying.

   My darling gasped when he saw me and I saw a thin film of sweat on his
upper lip. The other sex we had had was spectacular, but we were married
now and things were going to be different. Better different.

   Jason held out an arm in invitation and I giggled and wiggled over to
him. I sat on the bed as he rubbed his strong hands over my exposed
shoulders and arms. I shivered with delight. He then gently pinched each
titty through the wispy babydoll and I gasped and cooed.

   Impatient, Jason gently pulled me toward him, then on top of him. He
kissed me as we rubbed cocks the way I enjoy so much.

   Then he got serious.

   Jason flipped me onto my back. He lay on his left side as he kissed my
lips, exciting me no end.

   He stopped, reached for a tube on the nightstand, and lubed his fingers
with slippery K-Y.

   Oh my. He was going to fuck me first. No preliminaries. The main event.

   I panicked for one second, then became calm as Jason's fingers entered
my pussy and he began to kiss me as if I were the most precious person in
the world. His fingers felt fantastic and if he kept rubbing my prostate
like that much longer, he would get a big, sticky surprise. He slipped a
second finger in and then a third. He seemed to be trying to widen the
opening a bit. I hoped Mom was right about that rubber band theory.

   Jason stopped rubbing and the world froze for me. I could hear the blood
flowing through my veins. I was aware of every breath, mine and his. He was
doing something. Oh. He was rubbing lube on his cock. How considerate. He
wanted to give me every advantage. I'm sure that would all be noted on my
autopsy.

   Suddenly, Jason was on top of me. He had mounted me and I was trapped
under him. Not only were we married, I was at his complete mercy! He slid
my stockinged calves over his shoulders and my little hole was open and
vulnerable to him.

   Tears filled my eyes. I couldn't help it. I was scared.

   Jason noticed and kissed my tears, saying, "Oh, my Darling. You're so
brave. I adore you."

   Then I felt pressure against my anus. Like when the dentist pulls a
tooth and says, "You may feel some pressure, but no pain."

   I felt no pain. But pressure.

   Jason said, "The head is the worst, Darling. Once it's in, we're home
free."

   Oh. Home free. Ally ally oxen free. Freedom's just another word for
nothin' left to lose. I babble when I'm scared.

   Oh, I was being stretched too much. It wouldn't go in. I opened my mouth
to tell Jason to stop, but then, with a sharp stab of pain, I felt my
defenses crumble and Jason was all in.

   The pain left as quickly as it arrived and was replaced by a glorious
sense of fullness and womanly fulfillment. Then pleasure. Lots of
pleasure. Being fucked in your bottom by the man you love is lots of fun.

   And it appeared that Jason was having as much fun as I was. He leaned
over to kiss me, between "I love yous" and groans of intense sexual
satisfaction. I dug my nails into his back and begged him to keep fucking
me. Guys love that. I also felt a huge stirring in my own balls from the
stunning sexuality of the entire experience. My fear was gone, replaced by
lust. And I was going to spray my gooies all over myself.

   Marriage was fun so far.

   Jason seemed to be lost in a quest for his orgasm. That was OK, since I
was just reaching mine. It was different from any cum I had ever had. It
gave me a strong signal for a long time. At the moment when I normally
came, I was feeling the sensations, but something seemed blocked. It was
that cock in my bottom. It wasn't letting my cum fly. I panicked a little,
but then, wham!!!!! I got hit with a cum 18-wheeler. My orgasm was delayed
by the cock on my prostate, but it was also about four times as intense and
three times as extended in duration.

   I was sobbing in an orgasmic frenzy as I screamed Jason's sweet name.

   No guy can hold his cum back when he hears that. Jason's handsome face
contorted and he began to spurt his creamy liquid up my once-virginal
ass. Seven huge, sticky globs soaked my insides. I pushed my hips up to get
all of his cock and all of his cum. Wasn't I a little tramp?

   The rest of the night fell into a delightful pattern. Jason's limp big
boy would slide out of my bottom. I would kiss it and lick it until it was
strong and healthy. I would get onto my back and whimper for his
cock. Jason would fuck me until we both drained our balls.

   In fact, that was pretty much the pattern for our three-week honeymoon
in Maui. We did go on the beach every day, but I could tell Jason didn't
like the way men looked at me in my tiny bikini.

   Being jealous really fires up Jason's fucking muscles.

   When we got back home, we moved into our beautiful house. My full-time
job for a while will be to get things the way they should be -- Nicole's
way. I insisted that Jason get a full-time, out-of-the-house job. If he
didn't, we would be fucking day and night and probably end up in the
poorhouse. Where we could fuck some more.

   Jason helped me see the right doctor to modify my hormones. As we
approach our first anniversary, I have lovely B-cup titties and that's
where they'll stay. My waist is down to 23 inches and my hips are 34. One
other nice hormonal effect is that I'm producing breast milk, every drop of
which Jason drinks seems to make him hornier for me. (As if that were
possible). The breast milk will come in very handy though, because Jason
pulled a few strings and we're going to be picking up our adopted baby boy
in two weeks! I'm going to be a mother!!!!!

   I'm so happy. Mom and Dad are happy, since Danny wasn't going to give
them any grandchildren unless he could steal them. Faith is happy because
she's marrying Jason's brother Greg next month. We'll be related. I assured
Faith that what she and I do three or four afternoons a week while the boys
are away won't be incest, because it's only relation through marriage. Even
Danny's happy with Candy (the former Ralph) and we may hear wedding bells
for them someday too.

   And to think. I wanted to be a man.



   THE END

Next-Door Bride

by Gingerfred Man



   Chapter One -- A Lot to Digest

   I was a bit excited when I came home from school that day in late
May. It was my 18th birthday and Mom and Dad had promised a special
surprise for me.

   They weren't exaggerating.

   With only two weeks left before I was to graduate from high school and
no definite plans for anything, I had been kind of out of sorts. My
birthday offered a relief from all that concern about my future.

   Or so I thought.

   I went into the house at about 3:30 and was surprised to see Dad home
from work already. He was quite a hard worker and never took time off. How
nice that he would want to be home for my birthday. I greeted him, then
Mom, as she entered the front room. I was a bit surprised to see Mr. Clark
following her.

   Jason Clark had been our next-door neighbor since I was ten years
old. He was a nice guy, but a little creepy. He worked out of his home and
always seemed to be on his porch to greet me when I came home from
anywhere. It was almost as if he were following me or something.

   Mr. Clark was about 35 and was in very good shape. He always seemed to
running or lifting weights and his body showed it. He was kind of good
looking too, I guess. Blond and rugged looking. A tall man, maybe seven
inches bigger than my five-six, and around 220 pounds of muscle.

   Still, he was a little; creepy. I mean he took an odd interest in me
from the day he moved in. He was very friendly and always seemed to care
about what I was doing and how I was feeling. But it was only directed at
me. He pretty much ignored my older brother Danny and my Mom and Dad. Only
me.

   That day, he was in our house for maybe the tenth time in eight years
and for some reason, it made me uncomfortable. I was right to feel that
way.

   I said hello to everyone. Mr. Clark said, "Hello, Jerry." But he said it
in a funny way, you know? I didn't like it.

   I looked at Dad. "Thanks for coming home early on my birthday, Dad," I
said.

   Dad smiled. "You're welcome, Jerry. I had to be here because Mom and I
have wonderful news for you!"

   Wow. I liked wonderful news. "What is it, Dad?" I asked.

   "Jerry, you can stop worrying about your future. Mr. Clark has asked for
your hand in marriage and we've accepted."

   I must have misheard. I asked Dad to repeat it, but he said the same
thing.

   My stomach tightened. My head spun. That was crazy. "You're kidding."

   Dad frowned. So did Mom. "Don't get fresh with me, young lady. I am NOT
kidding."

   Young lady? Was everyone crazy? "Dad, I'm a boy."

   "Sass me again and you'll get the strap, Missy. You stopped being a boy
when you turned 18."

   The strap? Missy? Eighteen?

   Was I dreaming? Were they all crazy?

   Mr. Clark was smiling so broadly I thought his face would split
open. Dad relaxed his face. I didn't want "the strap." Dad hadn't spanked
me since I was about ten. He never spanked Danny, who did things I would
never have dreamed of.

   What was happening? I asked. "I don't understand."

   Mom took over. Speaking very calmly, she said, "Sweetheart, we've known
for some time that you would never really be a man. You're small and
weak. Your penis is pathetic. You could never please a woman with that tiny
thing."

   Ohh. My ears were hot with shame. Mom didn't think I could be a man? And
how did Mom know how big my cock was?

   Mom went on, "Mr. Clark has always wanted a sissy wife. He spotted you
when you sang that solo at the glee club concert when you were ten. He knew
you were a sissy then and he fell in love with you. He moved next door so
he could be near you until you turned 18. Mr. Clark shared his feelings
about you with us last year and you'll be pleased to know that he's offered
your father and me a considerable amount of money for you to be his bride."

   They sold me! My parents sold me? To this pervert. Who stalked a
ten-year-old boy so he could fuck him eight years later?

   I was trembling with fear. And considering my options. Fight or flight?
Both were bad options.

   Dad softened a bit and spoke. "We know this is a shock to you, Jerry,
but surely you knew that you would never be a real man. Not like Danny."

   My older brother Danny was the same size as Dad and Mr. Clark. He had
impregnated three girls and abandoned them. He had a series of adult
misdemeanors and two youth felonies. Girls adored him. And so did my
parents.

   I looked at Mr. Clark, then at my parents. Despair gripped my gut and
hot tears stung my eyes.

   Dad came over and hugged me. "It's all right, Nicole," he
said. "Mr. Clark, Jason, will be a wonderful husband to you. He'll give you
everything you need. Everything. And you'll be submissive to him as a good
sissy wife should be."

   I wailed. "Dad, why are you calling me 'Nicole'?"

   Dad hugged me harder. "Shhhhh, sweetheart. That's your name now. Jason
picked it out. You'll love it."

   Mom said, "Now dry those tears, Nicole. You have to get dressed and
ready for your dinner date with Jason."

   Things kept getting worse. "D-d-d-dinner date?"

   "Of course, Dear," Mom said. "We have to get this courtship in gear. The
wedding's in four weeks."

   Groannnnn!!!!

   Mr. Clark stood up to leave. He looked at me, then turned to my
father. "May I..."

   Dad nodded.

   Mr. Clark moved to me and stood facing me. He was so much taller than I,
that I had to crane my neck to see him. He said, "I love you, Nicole."

   My stomach flipped. It was disgusting.

   Then, omigosh, he held me by the shoulders and gently drew me toward
him. Was he going to... Ick!! He kissed me. Right on the lips. Thank
Goodness he didn't use his tongue or I would have fainted.

   I didn't kiss him back, honest. But I did get something I never
expected. An erection.

   I was miserable.



   Chapter Two -- First date

   Mom led a dazed me upstairs to my room. That was another huge
surprise. While I was at school that day, all my boy stuff had been
pitched. What replaced it was pure girlie.

   Pink ruffles on my bed. "Seventeen" magazine on my dresser. Boy bands
posters on my walls. A vanity with a big mirror, stool and lots and lots of
cosmetics. Worst of all, a closetful of girlie clothes.

   I was afraid to ask what was in a large chest under my window, but when
Mom saw me looking at it, she told me.

   "That's your hope chest, Nicole, Dear. It's filled with pretty lingerie
that you'll use to drive your husband wild with lust on your honeymoon and
during your married life. Isn't it exciting?"

   A man crazy with lust for me? What would he do to me? I would be
helpless against him? Oh no. There was that erection again.

   But I was also sobbing with fear.

   Mom's attempts to "comfort" me made things worse. "Sweetheart, we girls
have to sacrifice for our men. They're the providers and breadwinners. We
have to keep a nice home for them and satisfy their 'urges' in every
way. Now let's get you dressed for your dinner date."

   Fear stabbed my gut. "Mom, I can't do this."

   Mom dismissed me. "Of course you can, Dear. You have no choice. Now
let's get you undressed and into the shower."

   I undressed, humiliated at being naked in front of my Mom. It was
particularly awful because over the past few weeks my breasts had felt
funny and skin seemed to be developing in places around my nipples. I tried
to hide that from Mom, but she made note of it out loud.

   "Your titties are developing nicely, Nicole. There will be something to
put in your bra for your wedding. Thank goodness Daddy and I started you on
hormones four months ago."

   Hormones?!?! Mom said they were shots for allergies!!!

   How extensive was this conspiracy against me?

   I had sort of noticed that my hips were flaring a bit and my waist was
slimmer, but I thought that was just the last stages of puberty or
something.

   Mom hustled me into the shower, which I took in wet misery. I was in
complete despair, except for my three-inch cock, which was stiff and
throbbing for reasons unknown.

   I washed my long hair thoroughly. Why had I listened six months ago when
Mom and Dad suggested that I "grow it out" into a more-stylish ponytail?

   What was going to happen to me? Married in four weeks? Ohhhhhh. How
would I even get through the "date" with Jason that night?

   Mom was waiting for me when I stepped out of the shower. Didn't she know
how humiliating it was for an 18-year-old boy to have his mother see him
nude?

   She dried me with huge, fluffy towels, pointing out that girls "patted,
not rubbed" their delicate skin.

   Then she REALLY humiliated me.

   Try though I might, I couldn't get my erection to go down. Mom
noticed. When I was all dry, except for my hair, Mom said, "Nicole, you
can't go on your date with this thing sticking up. It'll ruin the lines of
your dress. Come over here and let me fix things."

   Did she mean...? Oh, please no.

   "Stop dilly-dallying, girl, and come here. That's better. Now let me
just get all that toxic material out of you. Sissies need their boyish
juices milked out several times a day. Jason will be doing most of that for
you, of course, but I suppose I'll have to do it now."

   Mom put her soft hand on my tiny cock and felt me up, including my
shriveled, terrified balls. Holy cow!!! It was the single worst moment of
my life. Had everyone gone crazy?

   Mom was pulling my foreskin back and saying, "You have a very sissyish
little peeny, Nicole. Look at the pink head and the drippy goo oozing out
of your peehole. Jason's going to have a wonderful time with it. Kissing
it. Licking it. Sucking it and your little pink bag of nuts. You two will
have a terrific time together."

   The images Mom was putting into my mind were disgusting. A man having
his way with me. Satisfying his disgusting needs with my body. Mom's hand
was so warm and she was so "handy." Omigosh! I didn't want to. I was so
ashamed. I gasped, lurched, and began to cum in big spurts into several
Kleenex that Mom was holding in anticipation of my little explosion.

   "Get it all out, Honey. That's it. You'll feel better now. Good
girl. That was a lot of sissy cream!"

   I was shaking when she milked the last drops out and cleaned me with a
fresh tissue. But she was right. It did calm me a bit.

   Mom showed me how to shave my armpits and legs, then I sat docily as Mom
dried my hair and styled it with a curling iron, all the while explaining
how I could do it all myself. I was still naked, but at least I wasn't
erect. When Mom finished my hair, I looked like a boy with a girl's curly
hairdo. That was about to change.

   Mom gave me an hour's instruction on the theory and practice of
cosmetics, all the while, highlighting my smooth, pretty features, glossing
my bee-stung lips and creating eyes that a man would never forget.

   When she was finished, I viewed the new me with shock and awe. I was
gorgeous. A late-teen beauty who, if I had seen the previous day when none
of this silliness was happening, would have spent the night stroking my
wienie dreaming about.

   Was everyone right? I wasn't much use as a male, but apparently, I was a
very hot babe.

   How confusing. And sad.

   Mom moved along on her agenda. She stood me up and showed me how to hook
a bra. It was white with lots of lace and ribbons. I stole little looks at
myself in the mirror, unable to get over my startling new look and the
potential it had created.

   Mom noticed and approved.

   The bra made me feel a bit girly too. I didn't have much there yet, but
the soft material brushing my nipples was very ...stimulating.

   Then Mom sat me down and showed me how to roll a sheer, silky, tan
stocking into a donut. "We'll get you to the salon for a manicure and
pedicure tomorrow after school," she said. "No time now."

   I pointed my foot as she instructed, then slid the cool, delicious nylon
up my shaved leg. Oh, Baby. I didn't expect how good that would feel. Or
how good my legs would look. Or how stiff I would be, yet again.

   Mom smiled with satisfaction as she had me stand, then put on a frilly,
white garter belt and hook it to my stockings. I just had to look at myself
in the full-length mirror, so I did. I was shaking with surprise and
arousal as Mom stood behind me, and, wordlessly, reached around my right
hip to masturbate me as I looked at my beautiful self. When I came, I blew
five thick, sticky ropes into the mirror.

   Mom was pleased. "I'll get that later, Honey. Let's get your shoes on."

   My "shoes" were barely there. Strappy black sandals with three-inch
heels. Mom spent the next hour showing me how to walk in them and how to
sit like a lady.

   I guess I did OK. I only fell twice. But then I got the hang of it.

   Lastly, Mom took my dress from the closet. White, with big, black polka
dots. Two inches above my knee, with just the right amount of flounce in
the skirts. Did I just say "flounce?"

   We slipped it over my head and I looked at the completed, date-ready
product in the mirror.

   I was hot.

   How did that happen?

   What did it mean?

   I prayed that I didn't get another erection. Being masturbated by your
Mom twice in one day is usually enough.

   I was saved by the bell.

   Jason arrived and Mom went to greet him. "Don't come until we call you,
Nicole. A girl must make an entrance. Plus Dad and I want to take some
pictures."

   Sure, I thought. Immortalize my humiliation. Maybe I could just crawl
out the window. Then I could report them all to a child-protection
agency. No, I couldn't. I was 18 and not a child. And theoretically free to
leave anytime I wanted. With my girl-only clothes and less than a high
school education.

   <Sigh>

   "Nicole! Jason's here!" Mom called.

   Just like "Leave it to Beaver," I thought, except Beaver's in a dress
and dating Eddie Haskell.

   I left the room and began to walk down the stairs, carefully stepping in
my new heels.

   Flashes exploded.

   I was temporarily blinded, but then I saw Jason. He was in a blue suit,
white shirt, red tie and black shoes. Like he was in a presidential debate
or something. I had never seen him in a suit before and he did look pretty
good.

   Maybe if we were alone, I could talk some sense into him.

   Maybe North Korea would ask to become the 51st state.

   He was smiling as if it was the best day of his life or something. Well,
I think you know that it was already the worst day of mine. And it was far
from over.

   The weirdo pervert faggot did give me some pretty flowers. I liked
flowers and, with Mom's prodding, I thanked him and gave him a little peck
on the cheek. He had shaved really closely and he smelled of English
Leather.

   "You kids have fun," Daddy said. Did I just call him "Daddy?" Jason was
in his mid-30s -- not a kid -- but I kind of liked that. An older guy
wanting me. It was a little flattering.

   But mostly scary and disgusting.

   As Mom had insisted, I held Jason's arm as he took me to his car. He
held the door for me and I managed to get in without exposing my garters or
my pantied crotch.

   I was getting the hang of that girl stuff rather quickly. Not that I
would need it when I ran off to be a lumberjack in Venezuela. Which was the
plan hatching in my mind. Do they have lumberjacks in Venezuela?

   Anyway, he got into the driver's seat and he was so darned happy. It was
sad, really, because there was no way I was going through with any
"marriage." The poor sap was in for a big disappointment.

   He was chattering away happily about small talk and didn't try any funny
stuff, thank goodness. Maybe he was going to respect my wishes. Maybe HE
could go be a lumberjack in Venezuela .

   When we got to the restaurant, he helped me out of the car and I held
his arm again.

   The maitre d' was fawning all over Jason and our table was ready as soon
as we arrived.

   Maybe things would have been different if what happened next didn't
happen next.

   The room was full of diners. It was a lovely late spring night and our
table, a prime one, was located outside, on a patio at the rear of the
restaurant. The maitre d' led Jason and me through the main dining room.

   Conversation stopped. Heads turned. Cocks stiffened. For me.

   Me.

   No one had noticed me all my life and now I was stopping pacemakers.

   It was the single most ego-gratifying moment of my life.

   Even women looked at me -- with envy or lesbian attraction, who cared?

   How did that happen? And how could I keep it happening? Certainly not as
Jerry, the teenage, little-dicked boy.

   Jason saw and understood.

   How had he seen what I would be as a sissy, when no one else did?

   A man who understood me better than I understood myself. Now there was a
powerful aphrodisiac. Better than English Leather. If I were gay, which I'm
not, OK?

   Jason pointed out a few things on the menu to me, asked my opinions
about them, then ordered for both of us. That made me feel kind of good
actually. As if he were protecting me.

   Then he talked to me. "I think I know what was your biggest shock today,
Sweetheart. Seeing the reaction of all those people to your beauty. It's an
awesome power you have, your femininity and beauty. And you're only in the
early stages of it. Imagine its power as it develops."

   Yeah, I thought. I'll be the most powerful lumberjack in South
America. But he did have kind of a point. I was overwhelmed by the
admiration and lust I felt. What power!

   "Oh, Nicole, I'll make you so happy. I'll worship you every day of our
lives and I'll make you cum so often you'll give more milk than a cow."

   Not a romantic image, but a stimulating one.

   I started answering Jason in complete sentences, but not because I liked
him. Just being polite.

   The food was good and I did enjoy walking past all those people again on
our way out of the restaurant.

   I wondered if they could see the tent my teeny peeny was making in my
pretty dress.

   Jason did.

   I know, because when we got to the car, he asked me if I was all right.

   I was puzzled and asked him what he meant.

   "You seem to need a milking, Sweetheart."

   My cheeks blazed with embarrassment. The worst part was that Jason was
right. I was very aroused from all the hot stares I had gotten in the
restaurant.

   But there was no way I wanted Jason whacking me off. Reaching under my
skirt. Putting his rough hand in my panties and rubbing it all over my
privates. Reaching for my foreskin and gripping it on either side of my
"pink helmet" with his thumb and forefinger. Skinning it over the head and
then releasing. Skinning. Releasing, <Gasp> <Pant>

   No way would I allow that. "I'm fine, thank you, Mr. Clark."

   Jason smiled. "You were calling me 'Jason' before. Of course, soon
enough, you'll be Mrs. Clark. In fact, I have something for you."

   Was it a birthday present? Or was it something disgusting like pulling
out his cock as a "present" for me?

   Worse.

   Jason produced a two-inch-square box, encircled by a pretty, pink
ribbon. He handed it to me and, innocently, I thanked him and opened it.

   It was horrible!

   A two-carat, perfectly cut and set, diamond engagement ring.

   He really did intend to marry me.

   What was I to do?

   I was scared out of my wits.

   But it was a beautiful diamond.

   And very expensive.

   And Jason was beaming with happiness and anticipation.

   The poor sap.

   Oh, well. I slipped it on my finger, then looked at it sheepishly,
blushing fiercely as I did so. It looked so good on my hand. So good. It
would look better when I had the manicure my Mom had promised me for the
next day, I thought idly.

   Why was I thinking those things?

   I looked at Jason. "Do you like it?" he asked.

   I started to cry. Because I couldn't marry him. Or any man. I was a boy,
not a sissy. Why didn't anyone seem to understand that?

   Jason completely misunderstood. He took my bawling as tears of joy and
he took me into his arms, then kissed me deeply. "I love you, Nicole. I've
always loved you from the first moment I saw you playing soldiers with your
friends eight years ago. I looked at you then and saw you as you are today,
a feminine masterpiece."

   He kissed me again and my stupid cock was stupidly erect again.

   That milking didn't sound all that bad. I mean, the man was crazy about
me. I almost said, tell me more about how wonderful I am.

   "Nicole," he said, "I want you to be a virgin in both your mouth and
your bottom when we marry. We'll have a lifetime to fill those with my
throbbing manhood". <I shivered>

   "But, Sweetie, I need some relief. I know a virgin doesn't touch her
man's cock on the first date, but we just got engaged." <We did?>

   "Could you," Jason asked, "Just rub me through my pants as I kiss you?
Just until I cum?"

   Oh no, please, I thought. I couldn't. But then I thought, he must have
spent $15,000 on that ring. And $150 for dinner. And I wouldn't have to
touch "it." And so far the kissing was kind of nice.

   "OK," I said, in my smallest voice.

   Jason almost fainted with joy. "You're an angel," he gushed. "I know I
have my own house and everything, but I promised your Mom and Dad I would
keep your virtue until our wedding night and they might take it the wrong
way if I took you in the house on the first date. So could we just do this
here in the car?"

   I was 18. In the car was normal. "OK, I said, but..."

   Jason looked at me. "But what, Darling Nicole?"

   I was beet-red. But I had needs too. "Could you rub me through my
panties and make me cum too? As I rub you and we kiss?" I couldn't believe
I said that, but having done so, I would have been crushed if he had said
no.

   He said yes. Enthusiastically.



   I asked him if I should take my ring off before I rubbed his crotch.

   At least I tried to through his mouth on mine.

   He was a great kisser and his hand was doing some fine work under my
skirt.

   He was rubbing the silky nylon of my panties against my excited little
tickler. Very nicely. So nicely that I almost forgot to reciprocate.

   When I did reach to feel him up, I got a great shock. Was Jason hiding a
baseball bat in his pants? It was stiff as wood and as thick as a
salami. And the moment I touched it through his pants, I thought Jason was
going to pass out. He groaned loudly with the pleasure of a realized
heart's desire. Or at least the beginnings of a realization.

   I think I was the first to use my tongue in our kiss. That came as a
surprise to me. And even more so to Jason, whose hot, thick, cock twitched
and began to expel a torrent of hot juices that stained his blue suit pants
down to his knees,

   I really excited him. Little me. The boy nobody, but girl VIP.

   He was doing a pretty good job on me as well. I was panting and gasping
as he stroked me in a way my Mom would never understand. Only men know
where the right spots are.

   The kissing was red hot as he tickled my pantied balls the way I like. I
whimpered most unmanfully, then drenched my first panties with my hot,
sticky cream. I even squealed as the pleasure seemed to go on and on.

   Omigosh.

   Jason probably thought it was a good date or something when he dropped
me off at home. And kissed me good night. And told me he loved me.

   Why did he keep saying that?

   Mom got the completely wrong idea when she saw me wearing Jason's
engagement ring, with my lipstick smeared and panties dripping cum.

   It wasn't like that at all.



   Chapter Three -- Early Engagement

   Mom was chattering happily as she escorted me to my room to give me
instruction on how a girl prepares herself for bed. A lot of "cleansing"
and pinning and tucking. She was full of questions as she hung my pretty
dress in the closet and helped me wash and hang my stockings. I gave her
half-answers, which didn't discourage her one bit. Apparently Mom had had
all the testosterone she wanted from Danny and was delighted to have a
"daughter."

   Mom helped me slide on my pink nightie, then showed me how "scrumptious
and sexy" I looked in the mirror. I didn't want to look because I knew I
would get another stiffie and Mom would feel compelled to milk me
again. But all that happened anyway.

   I was completely aroused by any view of my girl self. Or anyone's
aroused reaction to my girl self. What was happening to me?

   Mom kissed me goodnight and left me to my terrors of the future, the
first of which would be a day in school dressed as Nicole.

   Somehow, all I could think of was Jason's nice kissing and his hand
rubbing my willie through my filmy panties. That put me to sleep with a
half-smile on my face.

   The next morning, Mom burst into my room at 6 a.m., an hour earlier than
I had risen all through high school.

   "Girls need more time, Nicole," Mom said as she whipped the shades open,
blinding me with sunlight.

   Realizing that all that had happened to me the previous day was not a
dream, I groaned and sat up in bed. Then I went off to the bathroom with
Mom yelling after me, "Sit to tinkle, Honey."

   Obediently, I did so.

   Then Mom helped me get myself together. I tried the make-up and hair,
but needed help from Mom. But not much help. I hooked on my bra, rolled up
my stockings and put on my garter belt and four-inch heels by myself. Was I
going to school as a hooker? Girls at my school wore jeans and flannel
shirts. So did the woman teachers. Mom had me in a plaid mini and white
blouse. That alone would draw big stares. As if I needed more curious eyes
on me.

   It was with deep dread mixed with a large dollop of sexual arousal and
curiosity (a heady combination) that I left for school that day, my first
full day as a panty boy.

   Mom drove me to school, sparing me at least from the barbs on the bus. I
stepped out of the car, being careful not to flash my panties, and already,
heads were turning toward me.

   Incredulous looks. Then confused looks. Then derisive looks. Then verbal
abuse from every immature knucklehead in school. And there were lots of
them.

   I hurried to my first-period English class, looking for the protection
of a supervised situation. Thank goodness graduation was only two weeks
off. Did Venezuelan lumberjacks need high-school diplomas? I wasn't taking
any chances.

   My teacher, Mrs. Cruz, gave me an odd look, but she didn't comment on my
illusion of femininity. My female classmates were giggling and my male
classmates were sort of half-sneering and half-drooling, since I looked
more like an actual "girl" than any of the room's teenage vagina-toters
dressed as squeegee men.

   One boy did neither. He just smiled at me. Robbie Sullivan had been my
friend for a long time -- since 3rd Grade. Like me, Robbie was kind of a
runt and not one of the in-crowd.

   The look Robbie gave me was neither of disgust or lust. It was a look I
couldn't describe.

   After English, Robbie walked me to my Trigonometry class and talked to
me as if I weren't queer or crazy.

   "You look great, Jerry. Really," Robbie said. "Great."

   He didn't even ask why I looked like Miss Teen America, but I told him
anyway.

   Robbie's eyes got wide and he said, "Coooolllll!!! Did he give you a
ring and everything?"

   Huh? Was I the only sane person left on earth?

   "Robbie!!" I said. "That's your only question? Doesn't anything about
all this seem odd to you?"

   Robbie looked at me and said. "Well, yeah. The intensity of Jason's love
for you and his persistence. That's really unusual...and romantic. Can I
see your ring?"

   Dumbfounded, I offered Robbie my left hand.

   His eyes got very big and he whistled. "Wow! Two carats! You're so
lucky."

   Then Robbie left me to go to his second period class.

   They couldn't all be that crazy in Venezuela.

   Somehow I survived the day, then met Mom for my "makeover" at the beauty
salon.

   Again, it was a Twilight Zone experience. Mom introduced me to everyone
as her daughter Nicole, who just got engaged. Everyone oohed and aahed over
my ring, even the women who had known me as Jerry all my life. Was I
literally born yesterday?

   I must admit that the pampering they gave me was kind of nice. And the
results were spectacular. I got a beautiful manicure and pedicure (which
would probably have to be ruined in Venezuela) and they styled my hair
beautifully. The most startling thing they did was make me a blonde. I
didn't feel my IQ drop, but maybe I had become too dumb to notice.

   What I did notice was that, by any measure, I was a four-star babe. I
looked at myself from every angle and found myself once again in a stiff
condition. Mom noticed and whispered something to Flo, the salon owner. I
was so wrapped up in observing my delicious self in the mirror that I
almost didn't notice when Flo put her hand under my skirt and into my
panties to tickle my popsy to some milky relief, which sprayed all over the
salon's full-length mirror.

   Driving home with Mom, I was so strangely pleased with my blonde beauty
that I almost forgot my despicable predicament. Beginning with another
dinner date with Jason, my alleged fiancé. Ick!!!!

   Mom helped me get dressed again. That time it was all in black --
lingerie, silky stockings, strappy sandals, and classic little black
dress. All of which looked fantastic with my new, blonde beauty.

   The diamond ring looked great on my hand, now that I had beautifully
manicured nails and two coats of red polish. I could even see my red
toenails <blush> through my black stockings.

   Jason practically hyperventilated when he saw me. Gosh. The poor sap
really did love me so. No wonder, I was beginning to think that I was
delicious.

   He took me to a nice Italian place, where I got even more and hotter
stares (gentlemen do prefer blondes). I had to admit that the attention
raised my popsy.

   I didn't mind Jason's company either. The poor sap was so devoted to
me. It was icky, but kind of nice too. Jason told me his life story as we
ate. I liked that he had a bit of a self-deprecating sense of humor. And he
said cute, romantic things, such as, "My life really began the day I fell
in love with you." I blushed when he said that. And oddly, my peeny
twitched.

   When Jason and I got to my home, Mom and Dad had gone to bed, even
though it was only 9 p.m. and Dad had never missed a night flopped in front
of the TV since I had known him. The lights in the family room were low and
Mom had spritzed some scent around the room.

   Except for a little hello kiss, Jason hadn't kissed me all night, which
was just fine with me, thank you. I was praying that he would go home, but
sort of wishing for a little kissing (just a little and NO tongue) and a
nice milking too, since my ego had been stroked all night but not my
pricklet.

   It seemed a waste to make myself so beautiful and then not make someone
just a little happy.

   Jason seemed to agree. He sat on the couch and held his arms out to
me. OK, now what happened next was not my fault. I intended just to sit
next to Jason, kiss him a few times to, you know, sort of pay my share of
the dinner tab, then lie back and let him reach into my panties and do some
magic tricks. Nothing gay. Or too gay.

   But I still wasn't 100% competent in my heels and, walking over to sit
NEXT to Jason, I tripped -- completely unintentionally -- and landed with
my pantied bottom on Jason's lap.

   Well, I fully intended to correct my error, but Jason sighed deeply
(probably thinking what I did was intentional) and sort of held me in his
arms. I had never sat on anyone's lap since I was about five. It was very
nice. And Jason's kisses were so sweet and loving that I just sort of
forgot all the baggage for a moment and enjoyed them. I felt so warm and
comfortable and loved and that's not bad, right?

   I hate to admit it, but Jason took my breath away with his deep, tonguey
kisses. Oh. I did like being kissed. And so did my little pricklet. It was
tenting my panties and the skirts of my little black dress.

   Jason noted my predicament and said, "Stand up a minute, Sweetheart, and
I'll pull your panties down so I can milk you properly."

   I bit my lower lip and batted my eyes at Jason as I stood and let him
pull my panties down. Why did I do that? My panties were around my ankles
as I eagerly ground my bare bottom into Jason's rock hard crotch. Geez, I
was such a little tramp. But I was comforted by the fact that I did have
definite limits. A big, wide, no-gay zone that I would not enter. Nope. No
way. Uh uh.

   For the first time, Jason's hand touched my bare peeny. The tiny jewel
was enflamed with arousal and the skin was all the way back. The little
pink head was engorged with blood and feather-sensitive. I was pretty sure
that Jason would be making me cum in very short order.

   Jason held me in his left arm and smelled the Angel perfume on my
neck. He kissed my pink throat as his fingers burned my throbbing
peener. Jason was as good a stroker as he was a kisser. Despite myself, I
was gasping and whimpering as Jason kissed me deeply and wanked me
expertly.

   The night was going better than I thought it would.

   I was in a full sexual dither and wouldn't be able to hold on for very
long. Jason kissed me sweetly, stopping only to say, "I love you" in a very
nice way.

   Maybe I had misjudged him.

   Pretty soon, my balls boiled and I did a very bad thing. I squealed as I
shot my sticky cream all over Jason's manly hand. Was it true? Was I really
a little sissy faggot?

   Jason seemed to be avoiding bigger questions like that. He was watching
with delight as my three-inch tickler pumped a quart of creamy juices into
the air and into Jason's hand.

   I was so ashamed. Wasn't I?

   When the last of my juices left my pink bag, and my breathing settled a
bit, I was very surprised to see Jason licking clean the hand I had gooied
over moments earlier.

   Did people lick other people's cum? Ick.

   Still, it was so intimate. And more evidence of the man's love for me.

   I was apprehensive about what was to happen next. Did Jason expect me to
do "things" to his big, nasty cock? Well, he could just forget that. I
mean, I would touch it. Maybe. Because he had been so nice. And I knew how
it hurt to need a ball-draining. But that was it. I hadn't even seen it
yet, but my reconnaissance indicated a massive body of manflesh.

   Very much in charge, Jason seemed to have a completely different agenda.

   After kissing me for another 15 glorious minutes and stroking me to
another stiffie, Jason asked me to get off his lap and lie on my back on
the couch.

   He had already told me that he wouldn't try to put his "business" into
my mouth or <gasp> my bottom until after the wedding <ick>. I believed him,
so I was puzzled by his request. Still, Jason was so masterful that I kind
of, you know, obeyed him.

   I was lying on my back with my head on the arm of the couch and very
comfortable, except for my painful stiffie. Looking at Jason. Whimpering
just a little for a little stiffie "first-aid."

   Jason smiled as he heard my little cries for a good milking.

   He lifted my stockinged legs gently and sat at the foot of the couch,
with my feet on his lap.

   What he did next you could have made me guess for a month and I would
have never gotten it. He began to massage my pretty, stockinged,
red-toenailed feet. At first, since I thought my popsy needed immediate
attention, I was disappointed. But he gave a very, very good foot
massage. Very good. Especially since I had been walking around in four-inch
heels all day. I could see where women (not me, of course) would think that
being married to Jason would be a great idea, just for the kissing and foot
massages.

   But the real surprise came after ten lovely, foot-massage-filled minutes
that had my pricklet twitching and my ball bag alive with sensation.

   Jason held my right foot in his left hand and lifted it to his mouth!
Then he began to kiss, lick and suck each of my toes through the silky
nylon.

   My eyes opened wide, I screamed like a little faggot and lost my goo all
over my new, little black dress. More splainin' to do to Mom.

   And he hadn't even touched my peeny. Or kissed my left foot.

   How did that happen?

   Not only did it feel REALLY good, I guess it was just so intimate.

   How did Jason get so good at all that stuff?

   I was barely out of my orgasmic fog when that nice man was doing his
magic on the toes of my left foot. Oh my! Boys never get to have fun like I
was having that night.

   My boy thing regained its solidity quickly as Jason kissed and loved my
sensitive toesies. Then that wet thing happened again as the sweet agony
struck me and I messied my dress yet again.

   Oh. What a night.

   Maybe I would do something nice for Jason after all. I was sure he would
let me know what he wanted.

   As my third cumstorm subsided, I opened my eyes and saw Jason looking at
me with that sappy, lovey look that was growing on me. I also saw that he
had opened his zipper and extracted what looked like a large, brown salami
with an unhooded, pink head.

   So that was what it looked like.

   It was scary.

   Huge.

   Erect.

   Dripping LOTS of sticky, watery goo.

   Thank goodness, I thought I would never have to take that thing into my
mouth or bottom. I mean, he promised not until we were married and there
was no way I would marry him.

   At that moment, he looked like a nice man in great need. I felt sorry
for him and wanted to help -- in a non-gay way.

   He showed me how.

   Jason placed my saliva-moistened, stockinged feet in his lap on either
side of his throbbing monster. I got the idea.

   Slowly, sensuously, I massaged Jason's cock shaft with my pretty feet. I
rubbed the nylon all along the burning flesh and enjoyed his moans of
ecstasy. Then I used the sides of my big toes to carefully skin back
Jason's long foreskin.

   He liked that a lot. He liked it even more when I rubbed my toes all
over the most sensitive spots on his cockhead. I was such a little tart,
but I was enjoying his ecstatic grunts and loving words very much.

   It looked like Mount Saint Helen's erupting when the highly aroused man
lost his load to the soft attentions of my pretty feet. Cum was flying a
foot in the air as Jason groaned loudly enough to make a normal mom and dad
run down the stairs or call 9-1-1. I didn't have normal parents.

   Jason really, really enjoyed that orgasm. It was as if it were the best
moment in his life or something. I was almost happy for him. But that would
have been gay, so I couldn't be.

   I'll admit that I did like it when Jason drew me to a seating position
and kissed me a lot again. I kissed him back every time and even asked him
if we would be going out again the next night.

   I guess I was surprised when he told me that we couldn't date every
night because it wouldn't be proper.

   Proper? He just wanked me to one orgasm and sucked my toes to two
more. Then I gave him a footjob for a big gooblast. Proper? He had some
funny ideas.

   I was a little pissed about that. I mean, not that I liked him or
anything, but he was more fun than hanging out at the malt shop or watching
MTV.

   I guess I pouted a little when I kissed him goodbye. He said later on,
which I dispute, that there was a tear in my eye when he told me he
couldn't see me until the day after next.

   <Sigh> Jason was growing on me.

   When I went upstairs, Mom came out of her room, noted my disheveled
appearance, cum-soaked dress and cummy feet and once again, drew all the
wrong conclusions. How can she be so off the mark so often?

   I was so tired from my cummy workout that, after getting myself ready
for bed and into a lovely, silky, baby blue nightie, I fell right to sleep.

   The next morning I awoke to a very strange sight.

   My father was sitting on my bed, at my side. He had my covers down to my
knees, my nightie raised to my tummy, and his right hand was gently
massaging my penis.

   What?

   I sat up. "What are you doing, Daddy?" I yelled.

   Daddy kept milking me. "Calm down, Honey. This was your mother's
idea. She says that I need to do this from now on for you when you need
it. Mom says sissies need man to milk them, not women. And she says she's
tired of doing all the work in this wedding."

   Oh no!! It was awful! I lay back and covered my face with shame. And
started to enjoy Daddy's stroke. He was very good. Must have wanked himself
quite a bit over the years. Oh, being masturbated by my Daddy! It was so
dirty! I blew big cummies in about 30 seconds. Daddy stroked me to make
sure every drop was ejaculated, then kissed my cheek and went off to get
ready for work.

   My life wasn't quite normal any more.

   Mom left me alone to get ready that morning and I did pretty well. I
looked excellent in my black stockings, black, stiletto sandals, black mini
and white top. My titty bumps were showing through my top and my blonde
hair said, "boytoy." It was awful. Mostly.

   Mom drove me to school again and asked her usual dumb questions. The
biggest was, "Did you ask Robbie yet?"

   Huh? "What do you mean, Mom?"

   "Nicole, the wedding is in 24 days. You have to ask him soon."

   When she saw my dumb look, Mom said, "To be your maid of honor, my
little dumb bunny."

   Huh?

   Wheels turned in my blonde's brain. Of course. That was why Robbie had
acted so matter-of-factly with a twist of envy. My best friend was a sissy!

   Omigosh. Was he partly responsible for the mess I was in? Had Robbie
been telling my parents things about me that weren't true? Did Robbie wear
<gasp> panties under his boy things?

   Mom saw my shocked look and gave me a consoling hug. "I'm very surprised
that you never suspected, Nicole. You really are quite innocent. It's
charming in a way, but it's wasting time too. Ask Robbie today!"

   I was so surprised by that turn of events that I hardly noticed the
change in my peers' attitudes as I walked from Mom's car to English
class. There were still catcalls, but far fewer. And after my makeover and
"blonding up," there were quite a few hard bulges in boys' pants as they
watched me wiggle along.

   I didn't get a chance to talk to Robbie until after class, but when I
did, I asked him to be my maid of honor as Mom suggested. I was half-hoping
that he would call me a name and storm off, his male pride singed. But when
he squealed with glee, hugged me and asked when we were going shopping for
dresses, another nail entered my coffin of doom.

   Et tu, Robbie?

   That day in school was extra weird, you know, because guys, including
some of the cool guys who would have never given me the time of day were,
you know, sort of being nice to me. Talking to me and stuff. Didn't they
know that I was really a boy? Didn't they know that I didn't have a pussy
(which is what boys want more than anything)? Was I truly the only sane
person left in my life?

   Didn't they even know that I was engaged? I mean, the ring was big
enough!

   Do you believe I was even thinking that?

   When Mom picked me up, she wanted to know all about Robbie's response
about being my maid of honor. She could have at least looked a tiny bit
surprised when I told her that he almost peed his pants with
happiness. Probably his panties, the sissy.

   When we got home, Mom sat me down and went over wedding preparation
details with me. She had already registered for our china and silver, but
did me the courtesy of at least picking between two patterns for the ones I
wanted. She showed me the invitations and the list, which were going out
that day.

   I was in agony. It was going to be a huge wedding -- 300 people --
everyone I had ever known was included. My shame would be spread far and
wide. Secretly, of course, I knew that I would jilt Jason before the big
day and run off somewhere, so it was all moot. But it still hurt.

   When Daddy got home, he insisted that he milk me. I don't know whether
it was a duty thing or if he got turned on by stroking the tiny cock of his
pantied son. But once again, I was horribly humiliated and painfully turned
on. Daddy had me stand as he sat. I pulled my panties down to mid-thigh and
yes, I was stiff and drippy. Walking around all day with silky panties
rubbing your popsy would stiffen you too. Plus all the attention I was
getting from men and boys had an effect on me as well.

   Daddy was VERY good at milking. He rubbed my bottom cheeks very nicely
with his free hand and that enhanced the naughty experience quite a bit. I
covered my face with shame, but was soon helplessly ejaculating my creamy
goo into a Kleenex held in just the right position by Mom. All in all, a
family Kodak moment.

   It seemed odd to be having dinner with the family instead of Jason. I
found myself thinking of him just a little. About his lips, mostly, and how
good they felt on mine. And that sappy way he seemed to be completely in
love with me. Did I actually miss him? And where exactly that evening was
this man who was engaged to me? With some trashy tart somewhere?

   After dinner, I did some school stuff, then got ready for bed. Dad said
he would be by at 10 for my bedtime milking. It was an icky thought, but I
thought that I should at least look pretty for him. So I fluffed my hair up
and put on my prettiest pink nightie.

   At 9:30, the phone rang. It was Jason! For some stupid reason, my heart
fluttered. He wasn't with some trampy tart. He was next door, thinking of
me.

   We talked for awhile about each of our days. Jason sounded really
sympathetic about the controlling way Mom was treating me. I had to admit
that Jason had been nicer to me than anyone in my whole life.

   I must have sounded like some lovesick little pussyboy when I said, "I
missed you Jason."

   I could almost feel Jason's heart explode with love.

   "I missed you too, Sweetheart," Jason said. "I love you so much. I won't
be able to see you tomorrow, either, though."

   My stomach sank. "Why not?" I asked, poutily.

   "Your Mom is taking you and Robbie to look at dresses. She has it
narrowed down to seven gowns, and she's going to let you choose the one you
want."

   Mom had this wedding planned like the Normandy invasion.

   I wanted something right then, though, and somehow I found the courage
to ask for it.

   "Jason," I said. "Daddy's been milking me."

   "He's a good man, Honey," Jason said. "I wouldn't want you to suffer."

   Hmmm. <Gulp> "He's supposed to be here to milk me again, Jason. But I
don't want him to."

   "Why not, Honey"

   <Sigh> "Because I want you to milk me, Jason. Please."

   In an elated voice, Jason said, "I'll be there before you can hang the
phone up." <Click>

   He was almost right. In less than two minutes, my bedroom door opened to
reveal a furiously happy Jason and a very smug Mom.

   "Thank you, Mrs. Adams," Jason said. Mom left, chuckling to
herself. Again with entirely the wrong idea. How could she be so dumb?

   Anyway, Jason saw me in bed in my pretty nightie and his heart seemed to
overflow. He stepped over to me, sat on the side of bed and drew me to his
strong arms.

   He kissed me hungrily. Remember, Jason was a great kisser. And I had
sort of ached for his kisses all day. Or maybe it was the aftereffects of
my school cafeteria lunch. Regardless, I kissed him back, with lots of
tongue. For quite a while.

   So, of course, my little thing was hot and stiff and drippy, just as it
always seemed to be around Jason.

   He asked me to lie on my back and I did. Then he pulled the covers down
to my knees and my nightie up to my belly button.

   My privates were totally exposed to Jason's loving stare. That made my
condition all the more critical.

   Jason took his time with me, inspecting my equipment slowly and
lovingly, with sweet comments as he did so.

   He lifted my testicles with the tips of his fingers, palm up.. He held
them as I blushed fiercely and gasped for air. "What perfect, little
pearls," Jason said. "Aching for a man's soft kisses. Oh, Darling, when
we're married, I'll worship them every day and empty them so many times
you'll be dry as often as you're filled with goo."

   I whimpered and stirred at the imagery.

   He held my pink bag up as he looked under them for my anus. He could
just barely see it so I <blush> moved my hips and spread my legs to give
him a better view.

   With his free hand, Jason touched my tight, brown-pink ring with the pad
of one fingertip. I whimpered and arched my back. It was so sensitive to
his loving touches.

   When he withdrew his fingertip, I was almost sorry.

   "Your little pussy is the hottest, tightest and most beautiful in the
world, my Darling. A man could lose himself in there and never want to
leave. When we're married, my tongue placed there will bring you unimagined
pleasures. And my cock ..."

   I could never let either of those happen. But hearing him say those
things was driving me crazy with hot lust.

   "Milk me, Jason." I gasped. "Please."

   "Of course, my Love," he said.

   He let my testicles fall back to a natural hang. Why were they so sore?
He hadn't squeezed them. Then he reached into his pocket and withdrew a
tube of lubricant. He squeezed some on my poor, twitching popsy and then
onto his hand. Oh. Then he rubbed me so very, very nicely, as he leaned
over and kissed me within and inch of my life.

   My mind formed this ridiculous image of Jason and me in a house with a
white picket fence. I was in a pretty dress and heels and I had big, C-Cup
titties and a big smile. Jason was holding me lovingly as I rested a
toddler boy on my right hip. We all looked incredibly happy.

   Did I really want a life with Jason? Of course not. We were both men. I
wasn't going to... Unnnnhh. I was cumming so hard my eyes popped. Hot goo
was spraying everywhere. Jason was tonguing my mouth and loving me so much
and I saw the white picket fence again. Unnnnnnnh Unnnnhhh.

   I was exhausted, but Jason kept kissing me and rubbing my fresh, hot cum
all over my privates. Especially my tender balls. That felt so good. He
even rubbed some cum between my asscheeks, then rubbed the outside of my
wrinkled treasure with his cummy finger.

   I'm only human. I was stiff and panting again in short order and before
long, spurting my guts out for the man who loved me.

   MUCH BETTER than Daddy's milkings. And Daddy was no amateur.

   I was drenched with my own goo and feeling as if I had been run over
with a love truck, but I had to reciprocate. Jason was delighted when I
suggested it and he got up, removed his trousers and sat in my room's nice
chair.

   I sissied over to him and sat in his lap. Bare bottom against hairy
thigh.

   It was impossible, but I was stiff and needy yet again.

   But this was Jason's time, so I looked at his monster close up for the
first time.

   It was scary.

   My stuff was all pink and pretty. Jason's was all dark brown and hairy
and nasty. Manly. It was also almost three times as long as mine and
several times thicker. He could kill me with that thing! Not that I was
planning on letting him.

   He smiled at me as he saw my shock and awe. Blushing, I touched Jason's
cock for the first time with my hand. He moaned in appreciative lust.

   The foreskin was about the size of Monaco. I pulled it back and giggled
to see how pink the head was when I uncovered it. It was leaking viscous
goo at a steady rate. Clearly, I excited Jason. I was so desirable, I
guess.

   Jason was squirming very nicely when I inspected his equipment. It was
so hot to the touch. Every drop of the man's blood seemed to have moved to
his penis. The huge thing had no trouble holding four or five pints of
blood either.

   Jason had a big, blue vein running up the right side of his
penis. Naughtily, I wet my fingertip and ran it all along the vein's
extensive length. He liked that. So I did it again. He liked it again,
leaking lots more gooey stuff onto my red fingernails.

   I felt that if I had told Jason to bark like a chicken at that moment,
he would have figured out a way to do it for me.

   But Jason needed some serious relief, so I spat on my hand and rubbed my
little palm and delicate fingers all around his ultra-sensitive
cockhead. Getting into a steady, stroking rhythm, I resumed my kissing
assault on the mouth that had said all those sweet things to me.

   Poor Jason. I think he wanted to last a long time before he came, but I
was too delicious for him. After only about five minutes, he grunted hard,
said "I love you, Nicole," and threw huge, thick ropes of hot cum three
feet into the air. It was Fourth of July in the bedroom, with cummy
sparklers filling the skies.

   Imagine that spunk exploding into a bottomhole, I mused. Well, it
wouldn't be mine.

   After Jason splattered everything in sight, he kissed me and thanked me
for being the most wonderful, beautiful person on earth. Wow. A girl, I
mean, a guy really likes to hear that stuff.

   I was tired, but didn't want Jason to go. So I asked, quite innocently,
"Will you stay and sleep with me tonight?" I just wanted to cuddle, you
know.

   Jason looked as if he SERIOUSLY wanted to accept my offer, but instead,
he said, "Not until we're married Nicole, my Love and my Life. It wouldn't
be proper."

   Proper, schmoper. I was horny, I mean in need of cuddling, then. So I
blurted out, "What if I don't marry you, Jason?"

   He looked at me sadly, but confidently too. "That would break my heart,
Nicole. But I want to keep showing you how much I love you so you'll say 'I
do' when the time comes."

   Fat chance, I thought. But I smiled and kissed him goodbye. He probably
took it the wrong way too when I asked if he would take over the morning,
after-school and nighttime milkings from Daddy from now on.

   Why did he think I loved him? Or wanted him? Or would marry him? Men are
so strange.



   Chapter Four -- Mid-Engagement

   True to his word, Jason was there the next morning when I woke up. He
gave me some very sweet kisses and a spectacular milking that almost split
my tummy in two when I made cummies. Then Jason sort of gave me an encore
performance, stroking and kissing me until I was gasping, panting,
whimpering and cumming like the sissy I knew I wasn't.

   Oh, my. It was getting late and I didn't think I would have time to give
Jason the nice payback he had certainly earned, but he was sweet about that
too. He said, "Sweetie, you'll be late for school. Just go ahead and I'll
see you for your bedtime kisses and milkies."

   My eyes filled with tears. Why did that happen? "You won't be with me
again tonight? Two nights in a row? Why? Are you mad at me?" Do you believe
I went on like that? I probably wasn't fully awake yet.

   Jason took me in his arms and held me tenderly, kissing my eyelids to
rid me of my tears. "Oh, my Angel. I want to be with you always. But
remember, your mother is taking you and your maid-of-honor dress shopping
this afternoon and evening. And the groom can't be part of that. And since
you'll be gone this afternoon, I won't be able to give you your afternoon
milking."

   He was right. Why was I being such a needy little twit? Why did I make a
big pouty face?

   Not quitting when I was behind, though, I asked, "Can you come over
early? Before the 10 p.m. milking? As soon as we get home?"

   Where was my pride?

   And why was I so happy when he promised and kissed me again and again?

   Were things getting out of hand? Jason's cock was in my hand as I kissed
him like I meant it, skinned him sweetly for about ten minutes, watched his
cumstorm in dazed awe, kissed him some more, then shooed him away so I
could get ready for school.

   I was definitely losing it. So why was I so happy?

   Why, that day at school, did I write "Nicole Clark" and "Mrs. Jason
Clark" over and over again in my notebooks?

   That afternoon, Mom picked me up as usual and said Faith was getting a
ride from her mother and would meet us at Monique's House of Brides.

   Faith?

   "That's what Robbie calls himself when he's en femme, Nicole. He's
really quite pretty, but nowhere near as pretty as my little engaged girl."

   "You've seen Robbie dressed as a girl, Mom?" I was very surprised. Was I
the last to be clued in on everything? Or did I just have my head down the
first 18 years of my life?

   "Of course, Dear. Robbie's just like you in many ways, so I was sure you
would be perfect as a girl. And you are."

   We rode the rest of the way in silence. It was all clear to me. I was in
a Robert Ludlum novel. Everyone I knew had a secret related to me. A deep
secret that affected me strongly. It was all unraveling. It was called "The
Nicole Memorandum" or its musical version, "Nicole, Nicole!"

   Arriving at Monique's I spotted "Faith" waiting outside. He was cute. He
had a curly wig on, but the legs under that tiny mini were Robbie's and
they were pretty sexy. He had done a great job on his make-up and was
walking with confidence in some very cute red, four-inch-stiletto, sandaled
mules.

   I was taken back when Faith greeted me with a little kiss on the
lips. It was nice, though. Something Robbie and I would have died before
doing, but with Faith, it was OK.

   "She" was very giddy about trying on dresses, even though most
bridesmaids' dresses are pretty awful and you never really get to wear them
to anything again. Maybe she was giddy about seeing me in wedding gowns.

   Well, it was a giddy experience for me too. Mom had picked out seven
little numbers for me: a satin strapless A-line with a beaded split front;
the same gown, but with detailed hand beading at the neck, waist and hem;
and embroidered cafe lace jacket with hand beading over elegant satin
A-line (what was she thinking on that one?); a satin halter A-line with a
flower at waist and a sweep train (tempting); a satin molded bodice with
hand- beaded trim and tulle skirt; an organza A-line with beaded
embroidery, split back with cathedral train; and my favorite, the spaghetti
strap beaded chiffon gown with delicate Schiffli lace.

   I had worn white stockings to school that day and Monique let me borrow
white satin pumps. Except for the actual moments of cumming while I was
being kissed and loved by Jason, I had never experienced anything as
exciting as trying on those dresses.

   I felt as if all my maleness was fleeing me at once. Mom, Faith and
Monique were ooohing and aaahing as I fluttered around like a fairy-tale
princess. I was stunningly lovely! And I felt incredibly good.

   That had two major effects on me. First, it scared the panties off me. I
was a boy, darn it. This was only my fourth day as a "girl" and I was
pretty sure that, while girlishness had its charms, I wanted to spend my
life as a male. Plus, while I liked Jason a little, he was "making' me
gay. Which is not good, right? And, he kept telling me that he was going to
put that huge thing of his inside me. Which I knew would kill me. And I
didn't want to die.

   Second, the wonderful feelings I got from trying on the bridal gowns
severely tented my panties. I was in considerable distress.

   Monique, who was an old pro at selling gowns to "girls" like me, saw my
predicament and offered me relief. I was embarrassed, but also very
grateful. As instructed, I went to the dressing room, removed my gown and
waited for Monique and her practiced hand. The pinch hitter who took her
place was a happy surprise.

   Faith, who was in the same state that I was, volunteered to milk me and
Monique gracefully deferred to my lifelong friend.

   The first thing she did was kiss me hotly. I liked that a lot. Then she
shimmied off her blouse, slip and skirt. I liked that too. We were in our
bras, panties, garter belts, stockings and big heels. And both of us were
in severe need of milky relief.

   I hugged Faith and felt her warm body rub against mine. The tips of our
pricklets were rubbing through our panties and our tongues explored each
other's mouths. Mmmmm. It wasn't as good as it was with Jason, I'll gaily
admit, but it was very nice.

   I rubbed my soft hands up and down Faith's back. She purred nicely
through our kiss. I felt her pantied bottom, gently caressing the plump,
pink globes as we rubbed popsies and licked each other's lipstick.

   Then I became a bit more aggressive, reaching into her panties via her
bottom and skinning them down to her mid-thigh. Faith shuddered with
pleasure, then reciprocated.

   We stood facing each other, pretty privates exposed to each other's
lustful eyes. I blushed, but took Faith's peener into my hand and felt its
heat and size. Her girlish penis was different from my own -- circumcised
and at least 75% bigger in volume than my teeny weenie. Which made it a
little more than half the volume of Jason's weapon of mass destruction.

   It was red and drippy as I rubbed its head and kissed its owner. I
slipped my hand down to give her balls a nice cuddle and she moaned
appreciatively. It was so nice doing intimate things with someone I had
been friends with forever. It seemed so natural and logical.

   Between kisses, Faith said, "I've wanted to do this with you forever,
Nicole. I knew Nicole was the real you, not Jerry."

   Everybody knew but me? Was I stupid? Or were they all wrong?

   We were so steamed up by the whole scene and the lovely kissing and
girlie love that we were soon spurting our sticky sissy cream all over each
other and squealing like little faggots. In other words, we were having a
great time.

   Then Faith did something extra naughty. She got on her knees and licked
my tummy and privates clean of both of our cum loads. That wasn't all. When
I was spit shined, Faith took my little prick into her hot, wet mouth!

   Oh.

   She licked and kissed and swirled her tongue around the sensitive
head. I was holding my arms up, bent at the elbow and making little
sissyfists. I was squealing like a little girl playing tag and in very
short order, pouring a hot, cummy load down my best friend's pretty throat.

   That was incredible! Incredible! Of course I was also racked by guilt
and shame. And, though I knew reciprocation was the right thing to do, I
was repulsed by the gayness of it.

   Well, maybe not completely repulsed, because I sort of got on my knees
and sort of licked Faith's tummy clean of cum. Then I sort of took her cock
in my mouth and let instinct sort of guide me in sucking my first sissy
wee. I was expecting the sky to open and a lightning bolt strike me
down. But it didn't. And Faith didn't mind that I was inexperienced. She
kept wiggling and whimpering most sissily. Then her pretty eyes got wide
and I got my first-ever mouthful of hot, freshly squeezed cum, right from
the natural spring.

   I loved it. <Blush>

   But I knew I wasn't gay. I could stop all this any time I wanted. Go
back to wearing boy's clothes. Be happy.

   Of course Mom picked that moment, when I was on my knees and my mouth
full of Faith's pricklet and cum, to burst in to tell us to hurry up.

   Again, I'm sure she formed the wrong impression. That smug look on her
face was completely unwarranted.

   Mom left us. We kissed and cooed a little, then pulled our panties up
and went out for more gown shopping.

   Faith was going to be a fun friend.

   We finished around 7 p.m. Faith picked a spaghetti-strap, drape-front
georgette, with wrap in a "misty haze" color, even though I suggested that
lilac suited her better. Still we both looked stunning. Especially me. Even
though I wasn't planning on wearing the gown in public, ever. But you knew
that.

   On the way home, we stopped off at a favorite girlie place of Mom's for
girlie salads. I was in a hurry, since Jason promised to come over, to my
bedroom, as soon as I got home and <blush> I was really eager to see
him. Since he was very nice to me. And understanding. I wasn't falling in
love with him or anything, OK?

   We dropped Faith off, then got home at 8:15. Mom smirked again when I
told her Jason would be over. I said hi to Daddy and told him a little
about my day. Then the doorbell rang. Was it...? It was. Jason!!!!!!!!!!

   I missed the poor sap. Very much. But no way was I telling Mom or him
that. They would draw the wrong conclusions.

   I did kiss Jason, though, at the front door. Kind of an XX-rated
kiss. Between an X and an XXX. Not an R, definitely. And use parental
guidance, to keep the kids, even those over 13, away from that kiss.

   I guess Mom and Daddy saw, but geez. I hadn't seen Jason for 13
hours. And he was nice. You know.

   I grabbed Jason's hand and sort of dragged him up to my room, where I
closed the door, then flung myself into his arms.

   "Oh, my darling," he said. "You make me so happy. I love you so."

   See? The guy is nice.

   Well, I didn't tell him I loved him because I didn't. We're both
guys. Understand? Anyway, I couldn't because my tongue was halfway down his
throat.

   Before I knew it, my blouse, skirt and slip were off. Come to think of
it, I took them off. And I think I also pulled Jason's trousers and boxers
off, freeing "the creature," which was erect and pointing halfway up his
chest.

   Jason lifted me as if I weighed nothing and carried me to my bed. He lay
next to me and kissed me into a near-coma, tickling my bag and milking my
popsy to an excellent, messy cum.

   Then he introduced me to something extra nice.

   My little nipples were puffing out more every day and I had what you
could almost call actual titties, thanks to all the industrial-strength
hormones Mom was pumping into me every day. I loved feeling my silky,
A-minus cup bra rub against their puffy sensitivity.

   Jason gently lifted my bra and, for the first time, my "titties" were
exposed to a lustful man's view.

   I was actually trembling in anticipation of what he would do. Whatever
it was, I knew it would be, gentle, loving and wonderful.

   The loving man wet his right index finger with a little dollop from my
cum-drenched belly. Then he rubbed the cummy pad of his finger with the
tiniest amount of pressure on my tender right nipple.



   Unnnnhhh!!!! I arched my back, squealed loudly, and blew three big
spurts of my sticky cream all over my girlish self. I couldn't help it. I
was in sweet agony.

   Jason smiled in satisfaction at his discovery. Would I do that every
time he touched my nipples?

   Jason decided to find out.

   He rubbed another tiny glop of fresh cum on my left nipple. I grunted
and bit my lip. The sensitivity was exquisite. Then the man who loved me
pressed his lips to my left nipple, kissing it with hot, feather-light
pecks that felt like Tomahawk missiles hitting my vulnerable targets. When
Jason gave my left titty a gentle suck, I reached back to grab the bars of
the headboard, leaving myself open and defenseless. Jason exploited my
weakness, kissing and licking my nipples alternately as he cuddled my balls
with fingers lubricated with my own cum.

   I almost pulled the headboard apart when I came that time. I didn't have
much sticky juice left in me, only watery drops, but my cum felt like a
force-ten hurricane in my gut.

   That was what I missed when Jason wasn't with me. You see why I hung out
with him, right?

   I was so ...grateful...that strangely, I had an urge to suck Jason's
cock. Or at least to lick it a little. I told Jason that and he was so
sweet and loving. But he reminded me that I should be a virgin on our
wedding day. He wasn't putting his lovepole into my "pussy" or my mouth
until then.

   Rats.

   Not that I wanted that thing in my bottom. But that sucky thing I did
with Faith's popsy was great. And <blush> I knew it would be better with
Jason.

   He saw my disappointment and made a very good suggestion. Would I like
to lick and suck his balls as I milked him?

   Would I? Yesssssss!!!!!

   His balls were as big as jumbo eggs and they must have weighed ten
pounds. His wrinkled bag was dark and hairy. They looked delicious.

   Jason lay on his back and pulled his shirt up to his belly button.

   What a sight. Muscles. Hair. Cock. And those tasty-looking balls.

   This was better than trying on wedding dresses. For sure.

   First, I gave Jason's big rammer a thorough, manual inspection, which he
liked very much. I had to unhood it, of course, to get to the sensitive,
pink parts. His peehole was rapidly leaking semen. I wanted to kiss it away
and lick it up, but we had that rule of his. So I just used my manicured
fingernails to open the lips of his peehole and just give it the tiniest
kiss. Lips to lips. Jason didn't get mad at me for that. He just groaned
and said he loved me. All those times he said that to me, and I hadn't said
it once. Because I didn't, really. It would be gay to say that, even if I
did.

   I didn't want to disobey Jason -- he was so masterful as well as loving
-- so I didn't kiss his penis anymore. Instead, I wanked it gently as I
turned my attention to his huge balls.

   I put my nose next to them and drew in their musk. There's no smell like
that of a man in full arousal. And Jason was aroused beyond measure. The
hairs tickled my nose and I giggled girlishly. Jason moaned very lustfully.

   Tentatively, I extended my tongue to Jason's left testicle. The bag was
all wrinkled and apparently very sensitive, because Jason lurched a
little. Jason stroked my blonde curls as I kissed every pore of his balls,
lifting the heavy bag to get access to the sensitive, and
sometimes-overlooked underside of his testicles. Men love having their
testicles gently kissed, you know. They like it even more when their balls
are licked and sucked by someone who is pretty, smells nice and wears filmy
lingerie. That was me, ladies and gentlemen.

   I orally worshipped Jason's balls as I worked his foreskin up and
down. His ecstatic reactions were worth the price of admission. The man was
in my complete control and totally in love with me. If that doesn't give
one a stiffie, girls, one is probably dead.

   Jason's verbal abilities were reduced to mumbles and grunts. And after
ten glorious minutes, he showed me, rather than told me how mush he loved
me by blowing a huge, spunky load all over himself.

   Was I bad when I licked most of his muskier-and-tastier-than-Faith's goo
off his tummy? Jason didn't think so. When I finished, he drew me to his
bosom and kissed me for half an hour, rubbing his limp monster against my
little thingee until we were both hard and cumming once again.

   I didn't want him to leave, but at 11 p.m. he departed, saying there
were proprieties and I needed my sleep. He would be by at 6 for my morning
milking.

   We kissed like two people in love (even though I wasn't).

   I would miss Jason a little when I was in Venezuela.

   The next week was a blur.

   Jason came by for my milkings, three times a day, and they were
incredibly, fabulously wonderful. True to his word, we didn't go any
farther, since he was "saving me" for our marriage. Which was something I
probably should have started thinking about trying to stop at some point.

   There was always the moment when I'm asked to say, "I do," but I say, "I
don't." Boy, would that frost Mom! That part of it was very appealing to
me. But hurting Jason like that was something I definitely did not want to
do. I had feelings for him. Nice feelings. Even though a marriage of two
guys would never work. And he could never get that thing of his in me.

   Jason and I went out to dinner a lot too, which was very nice. We had
intelligent conversations about lots of things. And I got to wear pretty
dresses and accept lots of hot stares from almost every man we saw.

   I didn't go to the salon again until my 11th day of girlishness, which
was the day before my high school graduation. A good thing too, because I
was looking a little "off," what with all the milkings wearing me out (in a
GREAT way).

   Faith joined me at the salon that day. She had decided that high school
was the dividing line in her life. She wasn't going to pretend to be a boy
anymore, beginning with graduation. I was proud of her. I was also sucking
her cock at least once every day. And she was sucking mine. Sissies need
other sissies, you know. I wasn't a sissy, but I was pretending to be one
for my friend Faith.

   The day before our salon extravaganza, Mom had gone to school and
"convinced" the principal to allow both Faith and me to graduate in pretty
dresses, with our girl names being read from our altered diplomas. I don't
know how Mom convinced the principal, but she was walking strangely for a
few days afterwards.

   Mom can be very persuasive.

   Faith was brimming over with good thoughts and questions about the
so-called wedding. For some reason, she was particularly interested in
Jason's best man, his one-year-younger, single brother Greg, who looked
awfully cute in the pictures I had seen. And Faith was very interested in
whether my felonious brother Danny would attend. As it turned out, he was
on work release and would be there. Him and his prison tattoos. For some
reason, Danny was wildly attractive to girls. And to his cellmates, I
imagined <giggle>. I have to admit that for all his faults, Danny was
always extremely good to me. Protective, even. Danny's not stupid or
mean. He just likes taking things that belong to other people.

   So Faith had the hots for Greg and Danny. And mostly anyone else with a
functioning cock. She was eager to discover her female sexuality with an
explosion of lust.

   Graduation went much better than I thought. Jason attended, of course,
with Mom and Dad and Danny. I shamed myself a little by throwing Jason
kisses from the stage. But nobody knew the kisses were for him, right?

   Jason was so sweet, telling me that I was the prettiest girl there that
night. He was right, but it was nice to hear.

   I was glad that Jason and Danny got along. Danny even said dopey things
like, "Welcome to the family" to Jason. Even though we weren't really
getting married. And I'm pretty sure that Jason LOST his watch that night
because Danny wouldn't do something like that to a nice guy like Jason.

   Jason still gave me ball-buster milkings and I came to live for
those. But I was still, like 92% against marrying him until the Saturday
one week after graduation and one week before the alleged wedding.

   After a lovely morning milking, I got "dolled up" as Jason directed and
we took off in his car for the suburbs. In the lovely little town of Lake
Trees, we drove with the top down, chatting as we always did. I had my
pretty red dress lifted up to my tan stocking tops, trying to tease Jason
into finding a secluded spot for some hot milk withdrawals.

   My feet looked so pretty in my barely-there, red, strappy,
five-inch-stiletto sandals, I was sure Jason would try something naughty
with me. Several truck drivers tooted, but Jason was focused on something
or other.

   At 11:08 a.m., I found out what it was.

   We pulled up to a beautiful, white, four-bedroom colonial house with,
get this, a white picket fence! Just like in my dream!

   Why were we there?

   Jason held my hand and silently led me to the front door. Using a key
from his key ring, he opened the door to a beautifully furnished and
carpeted home. I looked at the house. Then at Jason. My eyes asked the
question.

   His actions answered it. Jason picked me up and carried me across the
threshold.

   "This is our house, Darling. It's where we'll live and be happy and
raise our family. You didn't think we would stay next door to your parents,
did you?"

   I looked at the house. I looked at Jason. Hot tears burned my eyes. I
was crying happily, like a girl. A girl who was now only 60% sure she
wouldn't marry Jason. Maybe 55.

   He was so wonderful. I didn't deserve him. If I had been a girl, I would
have been begging him to marry me. But I wasn't a girl. Right?

   I threw my arms around Jason's neck and kissed him.

   "Oh, Jason!" I sobbed. "I love you so much !!! I can't marry you, but I
love you! You're the most wonderful man in the world. You know my dreams as
well as I do and you make then come true."

   Jason didn't believe for a moment that I wouldn't marry him. He was so
happy that I had finally said (admitted) that I loved him that he took me
upstairs to the bedroom and undressed me completely, except for my tan,
seamed stockings; red, five-inch-stiletto sandals; and ruffled, white
garter belt.

   I had never been that naked for him before. And, for the first time,
Jason undressed completely for me.

   His body was beyond description. Ripped and buff. Hard all over. Just
hairy enough. And he was so sweet and good to me. I had been so mean to say
I wouldn't marry him. I wouldn't, but I didn't have to say it.

   Jason lay on the king-sized bed and said, "We have all day and evening
alone, Sweetheart. Will you join me?"

   "Try and stop me," I said. And I threw my body on top of his.

   We kissed for a really long time, which made my popsy very needy.

   Jason was so excited, he almost punctured my stomach with that Godzilla
cock of his.

   Then he made me even happier. "Darling," he said. "Maybe I've been too
strict. I certainly won't put my penis in you before our wedding, but maybe
we could try some new things."

   Omigosh!!!! New things?!?! That sounded great!!!!

   "Like what, Jason?" I asked in the little-girl voice that stiffens his
prong every time.

   "Maybe I could show you some things about your body, especially your
anus that I know you would like. Let's try that first, OK?"

   "OK" <Little-girl giggle.> Girls have all the weapons, really.

   It all sounded scary, but great too.

   Jason asked me to lie on my tummy. He slipped two pillows under my hips,
elevating my pretty, pink bottom and cushioning my throbbing peeny.

   No one, including me, had ever entered my bottom with anything. It
appeared that streak was about to end.

   Jason covered my little body with his own, rubbing his manly, rippling
muscles all over my girlish skin. My whole body felt like a cunt for
him. Then he kissed my neck, my shoulders, and my back. He reached
underneath me and gently rubbed my little pancake titties with his strong
hands. I hadn't cum in four whole hours and I was in great need. I would
have cum just from the back kissing and titty massage. But then he started
kissing down my back. Those female hormones had been thinning my waist to
26 inches (and still shrinking) and my bottom was definitely becoming a
little bubble butt. He began to kiss that bubble, as I tried not to burst.

   Kiss after soft kiss assaulted my weak, rear defenses. He kissed every
exposed pore on my bottom, then held the cheeks apart to kiss the ones he
missed.

   I reached a new level of pleasure that day when Jason kissed the inner
folds of my bottom. It was so intimate and so dirty. I shuddered with lust.

   Jason licked up and down the inner portions of my cheeks. Then he went
for the jugular. Slowly, softly, almost imperceptibly, Jason began to lick
the tight ring of my anus. I squeaked when I felt it for sure for the first
time. When he dared to penetrate my boyish pussy with his tongue tip, I
screamed and creamed the top pillow until it was so wet it drenched the
lower pillow.

   Omigosh. He was licking my pussy. Eating me out, just as a man would a
girl. Sissies can enjoy the same pleasures as girls when they have a loving
man.

   He kept eating me through two more shivering, whimpering, sobbing
orgasms. Then he turned me over, discarded the drenched pillows, and
slipped two very large fingers into my sopping pussy, with great ease for
both of us. And intense pleasure for me.

   Jason ran his fingers in and out of my boyish pussy, kissing me and
telling me his love as I lost all sense of time and space. I was only aware
of pleasure and love for Jason.

   Then he added something even newer to his repertoire. With his fingers
still sweetly torturing my prostate, Jason, for the first time, took my
penis into his warm, wet mouth.

   I cried out and began to pump a full load of cum from balls thought to
be empty. The bliss was intense and sustained. This man was my universe. I
was heaving and drooling with love for him as my squeals and shivers
delighted us both.

   Jason devoured my sissy cream with relish. It was his first drink from
the tap and I wanted him to have many, many more.

   When I was dry, but still tingling with ecstasy, Jason released my popsy
from his mouth and moved up my body to deliver a long, cummy kiss.

   Heaven could never be that good.

   Jason looked into my eyes and said, "This is the bed where I'll make
love to you, my Darling, every day and night, as long as we live."

   At that moment, that seemed like a perfect definition of paradise.

   As we kissed, I realized that all that exploring in my pooper had me in
a bit of a needy state.

   I hated to leave Jason, but I said, "Honey, I need to do number
two. Will you wait for me?"

   Jason smiled and kissed me deeply. I tore myself away from that
beautiful man and sissy-ran to the bathroom.

   I really did need to poop and a very large amount slid out of me. I
wiped and was getting off the pot when I saw Jason enter the room.

   "Don't flush yet, Nicole," he said. "I want to show you something."

   Huh? I obeyed though.

   "Look here," Jason said," pointing at my poopy discharge. "That's bigger
and thicker than my cock. Which means, if something that big came out,
something a little smaller could go in."

   I looked at the poop. Then at Jason's rammer. He was right. Maybe I
could take that thing in me. Maybe I could marry him.

   I flushed the toilet. A warm feeling came over me as Jason lovingly
washed my bottom and my anus with a soapy washcloth. At that time, I was
completely and hopelessly in love with Jason.

   I wanted to suck his cock and he wasn't going to stop me.

   As it turned out, he didn't try.

   Jason sat on the end of the bed and I wiggled over to him. I knelt
between his thighs and held his cock in my right hand and his balls in my
left. Heaven yet again!

   I leaned over, drew a breath and crossed a big line. I began to kiss his
cock. All over. I had wanted to since the second or third day and now I was
kissing it. It twitched and Jason moaned appreciatively. Needing more
saliva to do the job properly, I skinned back the thick hood and began to
lick the big, pink helmet with great ardor. I cuddled Jason's balls with my
other hand as I decided to try and see if I could get the head in my
mouth. My early days as a choir boy helped, since I was able to stretch my
mouth just enough to take in the best meal I ever had.

   My mouth was crammed with cock. I used my tongue, the roof of my mouth
and my saliva glands to full advantage to wet and massage my fiancé's seat
of pleasure. He stroked my hair and called me every sweet name he could
think of. Jason wasn't a "Suck it, bitch" kind of guy. If he had been, he
wouldn't have been my guy.

   Poor Jason was very worked up and I was very sexy and beautiful, so he
couldn't last long. I had sucked Faith off like 20 times and knew what to
expect when the geyser blasts. Or so I thought. Jason's cum was a downpour,
versus the comparative trickles that sissies like Faith (and me, I guess)
produce. I was drowning in cum. And it was great. Glob after glob blasted
into my mouth. I swallowed what I could, but a lot dribbled out the sides
of my mouth, down my throat and all over my titties.

   Jason said later that he wished he had a camera because I had never
looked more beautiful.

   It was a great Saturday. One week remained until the wedding.



   Chapter Five -- The wedding

   I still had reservations about marrying Jason or any man, but the odds
were finally in his favor.

   Thanks to Mom's manic devotion to getting me married in record time, it
appeared that things would be happening exactly as she planned. Over 150
people had accepted the invitation, which meant I would be writing thank
you notes for months. That alone would be a good reason not to marry.

   There wasn't time to give me a bridal shower, but Jason's brother Greg
(the best man) offered to throw him a bachelor party. I told Jason to go
ahead and have a good time. Like I wanted my fiancé ogling some
superannuated stripper and having a hangover on our wedding day.

   Jason's answer made me love him even more. "I'd rather spend the evening
with you."

   Faith seemed to be Miss Flitaround that week. She was never around and
Greg and Danny seemed to be spending a lot of quality time with her. A
lot. My guess was that she would pick Greg, since Danny seemed to have
selected a career that would keep him away from his family in periods of
three to five years at a stretch.

   I really only saw Faith at the rehearsal dinner, where she sat very
closely with Greg. Danny didn't seem to mind, since Faith had introduced
him to a little cutie named Candy, who looked a lot like my high school
classmate Ralph Perez.

   That night, Jason and I had very little private time (a bone-crushing 69
was about it) and we said good night well before midnight, avoiding the bad
luck thing.

   I slept fitfully that night, still afraid of that old, but true adage --
"Marry in haste, repent at leisure."

   Should I stay in the identity of Nicole? If so, should I be marrying a
man? If so, was Jason the man? If so, should I be marrying Jason now?

   A lot of ifs.

   Because you can't see the groom on the wedding day, I didn't even get a
morning milking from Jason. I thought it would be Daddy and was very
surprised to wake up with the covers down, my nightie up and Mom's
practiced hand giving me a good seeing-to.

   Mom drained me very nicely, then kissed me lightly on the lips.

   "Big day, Honey," Mom said. "Anything on your mind?"

   Lots. But Mom wouldn't understand.

   Or maybe she would.

   "You're not sure, are you, Nicole?"

   My eyes filled with tears. Mom hugged me and said. "It's OK, baby
girl. We women all feel that way. And make no mistake, Honey. You're one of
us. Emotionally and darn near physically. You're an incredibly sexy and
beautiful woman and Jason's lucky to get you. But you've learned that
you're lucky to have him too, haven't you?"

   Mom was making sense. I nodded and said, "Yes."

   "I know you're apprehensive about a commitment like this," Mom said. "I
was too with your father. With any man. They're such babies, but they think
they're better than us, just because they're bigger and they stick their
big things in us."

   I blushed at that. Sex talk with my Mom.

   But she went on. "It's fun to be dominated in the bedroom, Nicole. Lying
there in submission to your Lord and Master as he rubs his 'business'
inside of you is the most fun there is. But don't think you have to be his
servant outside the bedroom."

   Good advice, Mom.

   "And another thing," she continued. "I'm guessing that you're worried
about Jason's huge business going into that tiny pussy of yours."

   I was deep red from blushing at that one, but I nodded and wept fresh
tears. Mom held me and said, "Don't worry, Baby Girl. Jason won't injure
you or hurt you. I'm tighter back there than you and Daddy's as big as
Jason. When he pushes this thing in my bottom, all I feel is pleasure. That
hole is like a nice rubber band. It stretches to fit the job."

   Omigosh. That was exactly what I needed to hear. Though the image of my
parents having sex would probably ruin my breakfast.

   Mom was a lifesaver. I hugged her and thanked her over and over.

   "Oh, Nicole. One last thing. If you're worried about spending the rest
of your life with just one man, don't. You may find some
...diversions...along the way. If you do, and Jason catches you, just cry
and sob and beg forgiveness. He'll probably spank you, an experience you
don't want to miss, but the make-up sex will be incredible."

   Geez. An entire course in marriage in fifteen minutes -- right after my
Mom tossed me off.

   "Nicole, just answer me this," she said, "Do you love Jason?"

   My eyes watered again. I cried out, "Oh, yes, Mom. I adore Jason. And he
loves me. I know he does."

   Mom took me into her arms, hugging and rocking me, saying, "There,
there, Baby. There, there."

   I knew what I would do. And I felt wonderful about it.

   Mom got me into a housecoat, fed me and hustled me off to Flo at the
beauty parlor. Flo did her magic on my face, hair and nails and I was back
home to get dressed by 11 a.m. for a 2 p.m. wedding.

   Faith was there in her "misty haze," AKA teal, dress to help me get
myself together. So was a very pesty photographer, who was going to be
posing us all the whole day.

   I loved my gown. I loved the way I looked in it. I loved the fact that I
would have a bijillion pictures of me in it. I loved the sexy underthings I
wore under my gown, including my blue garter. I loved my new earrings, my
old family pearls, and my borrowed pearl ring.

   Daddy looked terrific in his tux. The notion flashed through my mind
that he probably bought it with the money Jason gave him to sissify me. But
that wasn't the day for that kind of thinking.

   The limo arrived as we were outside taking family pictures. The limo
driver popped a woodie when he saw me. And he saw a bride every Saturday.

   I guess Mom was right. I would have been wasted as a boy.

   We arrived at church a fashionable 12 minutes late. Daddy kissed me
without spoiling my make-up. So did Mom. The usher seated Mom. Then the
music started. Faith led the short procession and Daddy took my arm.

   We started to walk and turned the corner into view of the
congregation. I spotted Jason standing there waiting for me. Happy. Very
happy. And so handsome in his tux.

   My heart filled with joy.

   I marched with Daddy down the aisle. He gave me to Jason, then joined
Mom in the pew. I took Jason's arm and gave him a happy smile.

   I almost didn't hear Father Murphy, so wrapped up was I in my happiness
and love. When he asked me if I took Jason, I impulsively said, very
loudly, "Oh yes! I love you so much, Jason." And I hugged and kissed
him. Not the way it was usually done, but the guests cheered, which doesn't
happen often either.

   The rest of the day was a
blur. Greeting. Kissing. Hugging. Dancing. Lots of pictures.

   My little pussy was quivering because I knew Jason and I would be in a
hotel that night before we went to Maui in the morning. And I knew that
Jason would be fucking me very soon. And very often.

   Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh.

   We changed into street clothes and sneaked out of the reception at 9
p.m. I was a girl in need of a fucking from my Lord and Master. I was his
possession to do with as he wished -- in the bedroom. I would take charge
of everything else, thank you.

   We waved good bye and kissed everyone. Then Jason whisked me off in his
new Acura (the man had money -- I liked that). We drove to the Radisson by
the airport and took the honeymoon suite, which Jason had booked for that
night back when I was ten years old.

   He carried me across the threshold and tipped the erect bellman
generously. Every man I met seemed to get a woodie. But the only woodie I
was interested in was the stiff business between my groom's legs.

   We kissed a little, but I wanted to get dressed properly before we got
serious, so I extracted a prepacked bag from my luggage and sissied into
the bathroom.

   My man was waiting and I was quite randy, so I hurried with my make-up
touches, making the eyes a little more dramatic. Then I put on a completely
transparent, white, tiny babydoll, seamed white stockings and puffy white
stiletto mules. My titties were as erect as my poor, needy popsy as I
breathed deeply, and opened the door to go meet my fate.

   My fate was already naked and lying on the bed with a stiff weapon of
mass destruction. Had it grown since we were married? Was Mom serious or
just lying to relax me?

   It didn't really matter, since I had resolved to take all of Jason into
me or die trying.

   My darling gasped when he saw me and I saw a thin film of sweat on his
upper lip. The other sex we had had was spectacular, but we were married
now and things were going to be different. Better different.

   Jason held out an arm in invitation and I giggled and wiggled over to
him. I sat on the bed as he rubbed his strong hands over my exposed
shoulders and arms. I shivered with delight. He then gently pinched each
titty through the wispy babydoll and I gasped and cooed.

   Impatient, Jason gently pulled me toward him, then on top of him. He
kissed me as we rubbed cocks the way I enjoy so much.

   Then he got serious.

   Jason flipped me onto my back. He lay on his left side as he kissed my
lips, exciting me no end.

   He stopped, reached for a tube on the nightstand, and lubed his fingers
with slippery K-Y.

   Oh my. He was going to fuck me first. No preliminaries. The main event.

   I panicked for one second, then became calm as Jason's fingers entered
my pussy and he began to kiss me as if I were the most precious person in
the world. His fingers felt fantastic and if he kept rubbing my prostate
like that much longer, he would get a big, sticky surprise. He slipped a
second finger in and then a third. He seemed to be trying to widen the
opening a bit. I hoped Mom was right about that rubber band theory.

   Jason stopped rubbing and the world froze for me. I could hear the blood
flowing through my veins. I was aware of every breath, mine and his. He was
doing something. Oh. He was rubbing lube on his cock. How considerate. He
wanted to give me every advantage. I'm sure that would all be noted on my
autopsy.

   Suddenly, Jason was on top of me. He had mounted me and I was trapped
under him. Not only were we married, I was at his complete mercy! He slid
my stockinged calves over his shoulders and my little hole was open and
vulnerable to him.

   Tears filled my eyes. I couldn't help it. I was scared.

   Jason noticed and kissed my tears, saying, "Oh, my Darling. You're so
brave. I adore you."

   Then I felt pressure against my anus. Like when the dentist pulls a
tooth and says, "You may feel some pressure, but no pain."

   I felt no pain. But pressure.

   Jason said, "The head is the worst, Darling. Once it's in, we're home
free."

   Oh. Home free. Ally ally oxen free. Freedom's just another word for
nothin' left to lose. I babble when I'm scared.

   Oh, I was being stretched too much. It wouldn't go in. I opened my mouth
to tell Jason to stop, but then, with a sharp stab of pain, I felt my
defenses crumble and Jason was all in.

   The pain left as quickly as it arrived and was replaced by a glorious
sense of fullness and womanly fulfillment. Then pleasure. Lots of
pleasure. Being fucked in your bottom by the man you love is lots of fun.

   And it appeared that Jason was having as much fun as I was. He leaned
over to kiss me, between "I love yous" and groans of intense sexual
satisfaction. I dug my nails into his back and begged him to keep fucking
me. Guys love that. I also felt a huge stirring in my own balls from the
stunning sexuality of the entire experience. My fear was gone, replaced by
lust. And I was going to spray my gooies all over myself.

   Marriage was fun so far.

   Jason seemed to be lost in a quest for his orgasm. That was OK, since I
was just reaching mine. It was different from any cum I had ever had. It
gave me a strong signal for a long time. At the moment when I normally
came, I was feeling the sensations, but something seemed blocked. It was
that cock in my bottom. It wasn't letting my cum fly. I panicked a little,
but then, wham!!!!! I got hit with a cum 18-wheeler. My orgasm was delayed
by the cock on my prostate, but it was also about four times as intense and
three times as extended in duration.

   I was sobbing in an orgasmic frenzy as I screamed Jason's sweet name.

   No guy can hold his cum back when he hears that. Jason's handsome face
contorted and he began to spurt his creamy liquid up my once-virginal
ass. Seven huge, sticky globs soaked my insides. I pushed my hips up to get
all of his cock and all of his cum. Wasn't I a little tramp?

   The rest of the night fell into a delightful pattern. Jason's limp big
boy would slide out of my bottom. I would kiss it and lick it until it was
strong and healthy. I would get onto my back and whimper for his
cock. Jason would fuck me until we both drained our balls.

   In fact, that was pretty much the pattern for our three-week honeymoon
in Maui. We did go on the beach every day, but I could tell Jason didn't
like the way men looked at me in my tiny bikini.

   Being jealous really fires up Jason's fucking muscles.

   When we got back home, we moved into our beautiful house. My full-time
job for a while will be to get things the way they should be -- Nicole's
way. I insisted that Jason get a full-time, out-of-the-house job. If he
didn't, we would be fucking day and night and probably end up in the
poorhouse. Where we could fuck some more.

   Jason helped me see the right doctor to modify my hormones. As we
approach our first anniversary, I have lovely B-cup titties and that's
where they'll stay. My waist is down to 23 inches and my hips are 34. One
other nice hormonal effect is that I'm producing breast milk, every drop of
which Jason drinks seems to make him hornier for me. (As if that were
possible). The breast milk will come in very handy though, because Jason
pulled a few strings and we're going to be picking up our adopted baby boy
in two weeks! I'm going to be a mother!!!!!

   I'm so happy. Mom and Dad are happy, since Danny wasn't going to give
them any grandchildren unless he could steal them. Faith is happy because
she's marrying Jason's brother Greg next month. We'll be related. I assured
Faith that what she and I do three or four afternoons a week while the boys
are away won't be incest, because it's only relation through marriage. Even
Danny's happy with Candy (the former Ralph) and we may hear wedding bells
for them someday too.

   And to think. I wanted to be a man.


Please tell me what you think at gingerfred2005@yahoo.com.

My other stories on nifty:

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"Mothered" transgender -- control
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