He To She Part 3 by Lauren Westley
(Authoress Note: All disclaimers regarding characters, age appropriateness etc are in effect. I really advise anyone under 21 not to read my stories. It takes a certain degree of maturity to enjoy my writings without recriminations. Don't write a review if you don't like the theme of the story. That's just childish. But criticism is always good and helps me.)
Below is Part 3.... The first couple of paragraphs are repeated in Part 2
She -- Her story
Weeks have passed since the first time I knelt in front of Chopper and he lowered his briefs. I was immensely nervous and the smell intensified the feelings of anticipation, fear and the crossing one boundary into another.
Of course his cock is really a cock. Oh it's not some monster you read about but it thick and manly with veins filled with his blood. He's not circumcised nor am I. Funny part is mine is so small Chopper said it looks like a clit when I'm soft.
Chopper sat at the end of the chair his balls dangling and cock hanging down until I touched it. He told me I should always look.
"Never close your eyes. And when a cock is in your mouth look up into the eyes of the man who is rewarding you."
And I didn't close my eyes I looked at his manhood surrounded by a pubic forest, which made my own hairless genitals feel environmentally denuded. Magnificent is the word coming to mind to describe Chopper's. Even the surrounding area, his massive thighs, made me quiver. But what may surprise you is Chopper didn't let me suck him off that time. Oh no, he had me kiss his pee rod and lick his balls and look closely as his erection lifted like a crane over a superstructure.
"Soon but not yet," Chopper stated as he just as quickly stood, pulling up his jockeys and instructing me to go get dressed in my little black dress.
"No apron Billie," he said. "And make yourself pretty.
I was so shocked since I thought this was going to be my true crossing over but as always I obeyed Chopper as if his words were biblical. Doing my best I applied fresh makeup and the little black evening dress, black sheer stockings and a beautiful pair of stiletto heels. A spritz of perfume completed the rest of me. Nails were perfect since I had just had them done. I had gone with a dark forest green thinking of the winter ahead. My earrings surrounded by my long hair with fabulous highlights. When I looked in the mirror the only boy thing I would notice was my small Adams apple. I wanted it gone.
As mentioned before I no longer cared when I was at work and no one said anything negative to me in the neighborhood. My job was stocker/cashier at an artist supply house aptly named Impressionistic. Aptly I say because not only did it connote artistic endeavors but everyone who worked there was pretty weird. There was Bob, the manager, with his titanium nose ring and blue Mohawk plus black fingernail polish. Then we had Mary who looked like a cross between Lindsay Lohan on a bad crack high and Molly Ringwald. I don't need to introduce you to the rest of "The Breakfast Club" do I? And our little group didn't have a cutie like Emilio Estevez.
Anyhow, my going to work with hair in a ponytail and painted nails only made me fit in. Except for the time Mary noticed I hadn't gotten all my lipstick off. She commented on it saying, "You forgot to wipe after you swallowed." To which I replied, "Fuck off." I mean, please, I think my exploration in the deep end was probably the shallow end for the others.
Oh well, I've meandered way too much.
Standing in front of the mirror I thought how much my life had changed and how much I wished I had tits. But then again there are plenty of A cups in real girl land. Actually I'm thankful I look pretty all dolled up and wonder what would some boigirl stuck inside a big burly man body with a brain like mine think about when they get dressed. I was lucky I had the right body for my hidden secret to glow when exposed.
"Hey Billie are you almost ready," the deep male voice of Chopper's echoed from the living room. After all my lessons I know my voice though not soprano definitely can pass.
"Be right there," I answered in my sultry studied voice taking one more glimpse as I exited the bedroom.
Chopper's eyes said it all. I knew he found me beautiful. Listen I'm not dumb just different.
That night was a big surprise. Chopper asked me if I'd be willing to go out for dinner with him. Well, he didn't ask what he said was, "Let's go out for dinner."
Months of hard work would be tested amongst the throngs but in a way I was ready. I had thought about passing and so we left his home walking the opposite way from my apartment. Regardless of the dingy neighborhood I felt safe when Chopper took my hand as we walked I felt secure. I had never wandered this way and after two blocks my heels were killing me. Suddenly we turned the corner and there was a small Italian restaurant sitting in the middle of a vacant lot.
"Angelo's has been here for decades," Chopper said. "It's not swank but the food is good and they get a great crowd. I want you to relax and simply be the beautiful woman you are. A girl like you must be able to socialize as well as look pretty."
Butterflies swarmed in my stomach as he opened the glass door for me and we entered into a place right out an old movie set. In its day the restaurant was probably chic but time had worn away at her lush red leather banquets and the carpet's past was thankfully obscured by the low level of light emanating from the old incandescent light fixtures hanging like sad translucent flowers. Angelo's she was named but she was a beautiful woman who had aged and needed cosmetic surgery. The oddity of the thought didn't pass over me.
The maitre'd stand was unattended as if the restaurants' husband had left to watch the basketball game on the flat screen TV above the bar but in fact there was no maitre'd so Chopper just ushered us to a booth. Angelo's was quite busy with nearly all the tables occupied. As we walked back I could sense the various men I passed looking at my legs. Instead of feeling flustered I walked even more femininely with my wrist limp and little pocketbook dangling from the crook of my arm.
I had spent so much time in heels over the past months, even wore them at home for practice, I knew I would pass the hazy test of men's eyes in a dark restaurant but still I was nervous. When a man's gaze smiled into my eyes I returned the smile with a small crook of my painted lips. But when the women looked at me I was the most nervous. I felt they could see through my disguise. They saw Billy not Billie. As if Chopper knew how insecure I felt when the women viewed me he told me none of them knew but instead they were just jealous of my beauty and grace. Those simple words brought confidence out and pushed my insecurity into a place as dark as the corners of Angelo's.
Once seated Chopper explained the feelings I had would never go away since there was a truth I could never deny. But, he said, "When you learn to relish the special girl you are you will only feel insecure with the most catty of women."
"Men will want to get you naked. Touch your body. Revel in your scent. Most will not care the shape or size of your clit or that you have two holes not three. Women on the other hand will judge you. Many harshly. Some will be worse since they will feel both threatened and your obvious competition for the small amount of men available to them."
When the waiter came to our table Chopper asked me what I wanted to drink. A parched moment of fear caught in my throat but having trained so long at female speak my words managed to come out in a throaty voice reminiscent of Kathleen Turner in "Who Framed Roger Rabbit." I ordered my White Russian and the waiter said, "A very good choice ma'am."
I relaxed again when he said that and the line from the movie, "I'm not bad; I'm drawn that way," brought a giggle out of me as I looked into Chopper's eyes uttering that famous line. It made Chopper guffaw.
"You are a natural Billie," he said as we waited for our cocktails.
I've often thought the word Ôcocktail,' came from the sex which inebriation brought on. "Cock" and "Tail" go together like a "Horse" and "Carriage."
Here I was out. And I mean "OUT" with all the shouts and capital letters. If you could picture the cartoon caption above my head the OUT would have looked a lot like "POW" with connecting triangles of colored comic book flare.
He -- His Story
Billie embraced her feminism with the anguish with the gusto of a ravenous swan. Over time her confidence grew so strong she not only enjoyed socializing but with a relish I couldn't even fathom.
Teaching her to become was bringing me great pleasure. My thoughts of selling her would also imagine me keeping her. But I was training her for greatness and she was my precocious pupil. She was, "My Fair Lady," and I was playing the pornographic part of Rex Harrison.
Now what I'm about to tell you may shock you but Billie had to learn the unique path of how to please a Dom of the persuasion for a girl like her. I wanted her to be more then desired. I wanted her to be the woman men dream about and not the housewife they usually come to accept. Most men lose their lion long before the winter of their lives. They acquiesce to the daily life of a mate. A cow they breed with and then go off to sit in the leather recliner dreaming of someone like Billie. They watch porn with beautiful women who seem to enjoy being used but are actually happier earning the cash paid for their acting. How many porn movies have you seen where the girl is more interested in the camera lens then the penis in front of them.
So it came to pass the first time Billie sucked a cock. It was just a week after we had gone to Angelo's. A dinner date Billie would often talk about. She once confided in me how she had no idea her hidden secret also contained a Garden of Eden. For Billie going out for dinner, carefully eating her food off the fork so as to not muss her lipstick had been one of the delights she had found in this garden. For her, part of her garden of flowers was Ôgoing out and passing.'
Anyhow, the first time for her was not the first time for me and I was still applying my brush to the canvass. That night I taught her one of the delights men found exhilarating and often women found debasing. I explained, for her, nothing was debasing if she could make a man exhilarated.
Remember, as her trainer, I was in charge of making her into what she would become but you can't hypnotize someone into joy but you can gently lead him or her there. As Dorothy Parker once said when playing a word game and the word horticulture came up, "You can lead a whore to culture but you can't make her think." Well I could lead Billie to more then she thought. But just as importantly I could mold Billie into someone dominant men like me would crave.
That particular night Billie was wearing her schoolgirl outfit. I had explained to her how her desires had to be subjugated to the wants of the man. But knowing what was expected would be fine-tuning and repetitive practice. So this night she was kneeling again in front of me slowly pulling my briefs down exposing my semi-erection. I stood in the kitchen since I thought this would be the best room to start. It was where she had learned her chores of womanhood and thus the best setting for domination. Before she touched my cock and balls Billie rubbed her hands together warming them as instructed. I smiled at her brown with flecks of gold eyes looking up with innocent approval. Another learned technique. Cupping my balls in her warm fingers she sniffed, looked and then again raised her eyes for permission. Once given she licked the head rolling her tongue ever wet, warm and sensuous. She was in her element. On her knees as she so desired unknowingly the time we had met in Jake's bar.
I had taught her well. No guy needs a hand job. They can do those themselves. They need a docile elegant slut with the knowledge and desire to please a man. As my cock hardened her tongue searched the entire shaft as if she was licking an ice cream saving the tip for last. In time she'd learn how to complete the pleasure but this first time I took my cock in my own hand to build to my orgasm, her face a canvas waiting for the warm paint of my cum to flood over it indelibly. Her first man seed would remain a vibrant memory forever.
Looking down at her I felt the jism in my balls boil up until it reached the release valve shooting out of my cock. First came the wet pre-lube and then came the explosion of thick salty gobs of cum streaming over her face. Some I aimed into her nostrils. Some over the bridge of her nose. One burst so strong it shot up over her face and into her hair.
As per training she softly sighed and then licked my cockhead clean. She was the best student a teacher could ever have. And again as we had discussed she licked my balls and shaft, pulled up my briefs and stood with my jism covering her face knowing she would not remove it until given permission.
There are many reasons for having this rule. Obviously one is because it puts power where it belongs, in the Dom. Another is so instead of cleaning the shame off themselves they learn to acquire a taste for the smell, texture, debasement and denigration. But also it serves two other purposes. The first was as she stood she would find out if the man wanted to see her orgasm. And tonight I did so I reached under her little plaid skirt and rubbed her clitty with my open palm while she stood there dripping, smelling, and feeling my load.
Billie was fabulous. Before long her tiny penie rose to it's full shrinker and spurt her little load into her panties as she moaned and cooed as taught. She sighed again.
But the chief reason for the rule of never wiping yourself without permission is the pleasure your Dom gets from seeing his sub stand or kneel marked as territory. Watching her there with a little puddle in her panties covered with man juice sticking to her face reinforced a power I had come to enjoy long ago.
"Billie, now clean up the house but not yourself and when you are through come back," I said.
Billie was a good girl she cleaned up the house as my cum dried on his skin. Sort of like crazy glue man seed. When she returned about an hour later she was smiling. We talked awhile and she explained her little orgasm was the best she'd ever had. Turns out she had a second one without even touching herself as she cleaned. What a girl.
She -- Her Story
I know some of you can't understand why I am the way I am. Many would probably condemn me but I have never hurt anyone. Before Chopper had shown me my hidden place was not a horrible nightmare but more of a calling I was ashamed of my thoughts. Now, even when I feel degradation I feel satisfied. Chopper has never forced me to do anything except share my thoughts and help me realize them. What's the wrong in that? And as much as I am a girl I am still physically a boy. Not a man but not a woman except in my mannerisms.
Time has passed not as a dream but an interesting reality. Chopper seems to bring a flashlight into my soul and show me a mysterious corner. Once I see it I know it's mine. Since the first time I sucked Chopper's cock many other revelations have come about. I've learned how to suck cock, well at least Chopper's, in such a way I know how and when he's about to orgasm. That in itself is a power I've become proficient in.
Now I have a wardrobe Chopper has assembled for me. At times he'll call me to the computer to see something he thinks I should wear and then he orders it. I'm not sure how Chopper gets his money because I know he's not rich. Some catty girl would probably try to follow Chopper and see where he goes but I have no need to do that. I trust him and I know a man needs his own space. Whatever the space may be it isn't to be judged nor demand knowledge of. Unlike so many shows I've watched, Chopper has me watch, Lifetime, Oxygen and the O Network, so I can study womanhood. However, whatever I am I am not jealous, catty or conniving. Instead I'm there three days a week for about four hours at a time. Two visits were cancelled when Chopper got a cold. I asked if he wanted me to come over and tend to him but he said, "No."
A short time ago after I had learned not only to suck him off and either let his cum dry on my face or hold it on my tongue until given permission to swallow, Chopper brought up spanking again. Of course I had thought about it I told him. Didn't I want him to spank me he said as if I had no choice, which of course I'm not sure what is my choice would be versus my desire!
"Yes Chopper," I had answered honestly as I stood there in my new outfit.
I had actually watched Chopper pick this out on line at Wet Seal for me. We could buy a whole outfit there for less then $100. It was chiffon belted tiered dress in a dark smoky blue. I had on bangles and blue plastic earrings. Did I tell you I had my ears pierced? I just did it one day and at work I wore fake diamond studs but at Choppers I now had several pair of pierced earrings. Ha, I was building a jewelry collection.
"But I don't want to be hurt," I pleaded with my eyes.
Chopper said he'd never hurt me so when he told me to come over and stand to the side in front of him I did it. I shivered while he lifted the back of my dress up exposing my painted leopard blue trimmed boy shorts (oh we had picked out the striped laced bra to match so I had both bra straps showing with the dress straps. How slutty is that?) He rubbed my ass gently and then slapped both cheeks hard with his hand. Just one slap on each yet the sting felt stinging and penetrating and then he let my skirt slide over my warm bottom.
"Wasn't that the way you imagined it would feel," he asked?
I don't know what I imagined but the sensation was both shameful and erotic. My clitty hardened a bit as I stood there while Chopper explained he had seen this in another corner of my hidden secret.
"When you are being spanked Billie should you sob and cry or be stoic or scream?"
The answer had already been given. I knew from then on what I would be expected of me if I was spanked. And so the many spankings I've had since I have found myself lost in sobbing or crying but never silence or screaming.
Chopper often wouldn't tell me why he was going to spank me. Sometimes he'd just spank each cheek once but he never spanked them more then ten times, just enough to elicit a more submissive me. And since I wore the butt plug nearly always walking was even more accentuated afterwards. I would ponder what I may have done wrong but Chopper had already told me the first time I asked he would never explain. Instead it was up to me to think and try harder to be the good girl he knew I wanted to be.
He -- His Story
Now those of you who remember the Billy in the bar would be most surprised by the Billie she's become. She's a bit of a daredevil for such a submissive. It had snowed Saturday so we hadn't gotten together. Billie called me Sunday after the snow melted. (Atlanta can snow one day and be gone the next especially in mid December). I told her she could come but I'd have some friends coming to watch Sunday football in about two hours.
"If you come you'd be expected to serve the guys but no sex."
Hey I wasn't about to ask if she wanted to. She had a simple choice, yes or no. Guess what she decided?
Billie had certainly grown up. I didn't have to go get her and she came over wearing an outfit she had bought for herself. I had never seen it but I did approve. Perfect for a Sunday football game. Can you guess? Ah, you already did. Right it was a very sexy cheerleading outfit. She had sure taken the initiative. It was an adult cheerleading outfit. That doesn't mean it was a piece of trash. No Billie had taste. The only difference really was the skirt didn't have a built in shorts part so she had to wear panties and instead of regular sneakers she had found a white pair with heels. The socks she wore popped out of the top of the sneaker heels with a lacy white and maroon matching the black, maroon and white dress she was wearing. She had tied her hair into a long ponytail and she had definitely worn breast pads under the dress.
I knew she was thinking about tits. All girls worry about that. But we hadn't come to where breast implants had come up yet. But knowing Billie she was definitely getting girlier everyday. I wondered where her limit was. So far none of the girls I had trained had ever become transsexuals. You may think that's the conclusive step the deeper they go but you'd be wrong. Many reasons enter into not having the operation. The fear of an operation. The expense of an operation. Many times simply they wanted to remain boigirls. Some of the transsexuals I've met have major depression after the operation. So I'm sure even that enters into their thoughts.
"Do you like it," Billie cooed as she twirled around her white satin panties showing but her gender tucked into a hidden place almost as hidden as her thoughts were just months ago.
For the next ten minutes we discussed what would be expected of her. She was to smile and be quiet during the game except for when she was serving. Curtseying and Ôyes sir' were to be her replies as well as thank you. She had been well trained these past months in service for me. She wanted to know if the guys know her secret. I told her I hadn't told anyone but in a way that was a lie. Although none of the guys knew she was going to be there four of six guys who said they'd be over were also into the same kink as me. Two of them had bought girls from me. So they may not know but they would definitely figure it out. The other couple of guys would be interesting to see how well Billie could conceal her physical gender. I explained to her under no case was she to say anything about the boy underneath. If she failed she be punished and rewarded if she succeeded. I didn't elaborate.
Billie tidied up the house as the noon hour approached.
Falcons vs GreenBay.
Billie vs The Men
She -- Her Story
Surely you are wondering why I ever said I'd come over. Remember I had passed a couple of times when Chopper and I went out for dinner. This would be a test of all I had learned. Also I was interested in how I'd feel around other men. And since Chopper had promised no sex what was I to be worried about. Chopper also didn't know I had gathered a bit of a wardrobe at home but after he saw me in the cheerleading outfit he asked me if I had other clothes and I answered, "But of course!"
(to be continued -- fundipity@yahoo.com )