Ponygirl for Hire
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Girl Time free porn video
This story describes the sexual activities of someone below the age of
consent. If the subject offends you, or if that's what you are, don't read it.
Comment is always welcome.
Girl Time
By Vickie Tern
"It's getting near to 4:00 o'clock, Allie honey! Shouldn't you be changing?"
"Sure, Mom, I just wanna finish this Battlestar's ...."
"I think you'd better put that computer game away until tomorrow,
sweetheart. That's enough alien-zapping for one day. Jane's coming over
soon to see your new dresses, the ones Aunt Beth bought for you. Don't
you want to show them to her?"
"Yes, of course Mom, I'd love for her to see them. She always has such
good ideas about actses...ack...."
"'Accessorizing.' It's an important word, honey, for a girl who wants to
look nice."
"Yes. 'Ac-cess-or-izing.' How to make whatever I'm wearing look better
by adding belts and scarves and things."
"Exactly. Well, do you want Jane to see you in pants? She won't like being
reminded you're a boy, you know. She still remembers what you were like
when your father lived here. I don't need to remind you of that now, do I?"
"No, Mom."
"Then let's call your boy time over for today. You'd better get on upstairs
and change. Remember to take your girl time pills."
"OK, sure. Uh, Mom?"
"Yes, honey?"
"Those new girl time pills Dr. Diana gave me a couple of weeks ago? The
big purple ones and the little white ones?"
"Mmmm?"
The purple ones make me feel a little nauseous right after I take them. And
the little white ones always make me feel strange, sometimes all the way
through into the next day."
"How strange?"
"You know. Kind of mellow. So I smile a lot when there's nothing funny
happening. And I sort of forget things. Like the other night, when Jim and I
went to the movies? We were talking about football, and I couldn't even
remember how far away you have to be to kick for the extra point."
"That's because girls don't need to know things like that, honey. They need
to know other things, like how to style their hair. I notice that some
mornings when it's boy time and you're getting ready to go to school you
scarcely remember that you own a comb. Do other boys really wear their
long hair so ratty-looking in school these days?"
"Yes. It's what's cool."
"You look so much more attractive when it's set in soft waves."
"That's how girls wear their hair, Mom. I do that when I'm in girl time.
When Jim and I go somewhere I do it that way. He likes me like that."
"Well, maybe you should try to look like that more often."
"Mom, I can't. Not when I'm being a boy. The kids razz me enough now as
it is! I mean, like last week when I wore lipstick and eye shadow to school?
I almost got beat up, except for some girls who came along and made them
stop! All this year, everywhere I go someone is always calling me a faggot
or a sissy!"
"Of course, dear. Because you are a sissy! That's how it is when you aren't
a real girl. You could have checked in the mirror that morning, and scrubbed
your face better, you know. If you didn't, could it be because you like the
way you look when you're wearing lipstick and eye shadow? If so that's just
fine! I do too!"
"I do like the way they look, Mom. But not when I'm in boy time. I just
plain forgot they were there. Like I say, I'm forgetting lots of things these
days, not just football. When we were sitting in the movies last weekend and
Jim wanted me to reach into his fly and jerk him off, I even forgot that boys'
panties have slots in them so they can reach in when they pee. I tried to find
his dingle by feeling for it from above his waist band, like with my own."
"Well, that's understandable, Allie. You've been wearing girls' panties for
quite a while now, ever since you agreed they're prettier and feel nicer than
your old underpants. And memory is selective. When you're being a girl
with a handsome boy like Jim you tend to think and feel like a girl, so you
remember like a girl. That's how people are. I'll bet when you're being a
boy you don't remember which of your skirts button on the side and which in
back. Or what shade of lipstick you wore when you were last out with Jim.
Or how it felt to kiss him. I'll bet not even what his cum tastes like."
"Oh no, I remember those things, Mom, sort of. They're important! But
I've only sucked Jim off once, so I can't be sure if he always tastes like that."
"Only once? What in the world do you do, all that time you spend together?
Did you like it that once?"
"Yes. I took another of those new white pills like you suggested, and it made
me feel sort of happy woozy, sliding my mouth up and down his dingle, and
licking and sucking it until it squirted. It was really nice! Especially when I
got all his cum swallowed down snug in my tummy. And it was fun, too!
He got so excited!"
"You see? That's why Dr. Diana prescribed those little white ones. They
help your disposition. Dr. Diana said they'd help you overcome any
edginess you might still feel about pleasing boys. That they'd make you feel
more compliant, less naturally feisty the way boys are with each other, less
competitive. The way a girl should feel with boys if she wants to be
popular."
"Well, the white ones aren't too bad I guess. It's the big purple ones that
make me feel really sick for hours. Can't I go back to the little purple ones?"
"I'm afraid not, honey. Dr. Diana mentioned that they might upset your
system at first. Wait it out. They are triple strength, after all. None of the
girls in your class have anything like that concentration of hormones in their
blood streams. I'm sure you've noticed that they're all blossoming and
plumping out and softening too, the same as you are. Well, they're lucky,
they make their own hormones. They're becoming women from inside
themselves, without pills. Boys need pills to become women."
"Heather and Florrie are already getting real smooth like that. We cuddle
sometimes during our sleepovers. They're already softer than I am."
"Yes. You're a little underdeveloped for your age. That's why we've started
you on the big pills. If you don't take the big purple pills starting now you'll
grow hair on your chest instead of boobies, maybe even on your face too.
That would look very odd when it's your girl time and you're wearing a low-
necked blouse. You need boobies! You are a teenager now, after all. From
now on blouses and dresses suitable for your age group won't fit you
properly if you don't have boobies. You do want to look pretty, don't you?"
"Yes, Mom, of course I do. But not when I'm being a boy. When it's boy
time, shouldn't I look like a boy? Boys don't have boobies!"
"Well, honey, you can't have it both ways. You're a boy with small boobies
who'll have big ones pretty soon now. You should have thought all that
through a few years ago when your father and I first separated. You did tell
the judge that you'd rather live with me, didn't you? And I set certain
conditions, and the judge approved them, and you agreed to them?"
"I guess I did."
"Well, the issue then was perfectly clear. You were being bullied in school
because you're a frail boy, and your father was bullying you into fighting
back, into becoming a bully yourself. So you were getting quite raucous and
mean-spirited around the house. Disrespectful to me and your aunts, because
we were 'only girls,' that's what you said once, remember? And you struck
a little girl on the next block 'to teach her a lesson,' you said? Which was
why I sent you to school wearing pink nail polish, to teach you to keep your
hands to yourself?"
"I remember, Mom. Some of the bigger boys really started to punch me that
day, when they realized I didn't want to take my hands out of my pockets.
Then when I finally took them out to protect my face there was no stopping
them!"
"Your father told the court I was turning you into a sissy instead of a man.
He said it was just to spite him, because I'd always wanted a girl, not a boy,
and I couldn't have a girl because I'd already ... arranged my body not to
have any more children. So I could feel free to ... do other things he also
didn't like. Anyhow, he told the judge that what you needed was discipline
and he was going to send you to a military school where they'd make a man
of you. And that frightened you, and you started to cry, and you told the
judge you wanted to live with me and go to an ordinary school even though
everyone teases you for being a cry baby."
"I was afraid the boys in a military school would kill me."
"I know. They might have, too. So I promised the judge I'd teach you how
to cope with schoolyard bullies, and he was pleased with that, so he agreed to
let me teach you other ways to deal with problems too, gentler ways. How to
feel empathy for people, and especially to understand how girls feel when
boys bully them. How girls feel about lots of things. Because girls don't
find it necessary to beat up on each other the way boys do. They relate
differently! And I don't want you to grow up mean, the way your father
could be sometimes."
"Mom, you never taught me how to cope. You replaced my lunch money
whenever big guys took it from me, sure, because you said I shouldn't resist
them, I'd only get hurt. All you told me to do was scream and run away
whenever they threatened me, or hide behind groups of girls. And always to
tattle on whoever's being nasty, and always to tell them that's what I'm going
to do. Because that's what girls do when boys bother them. But mom,
when boys do those things it only makes matters worse. Then they really are
out to get you!"
"I've been evenhanded I think, Allie. Your Aunt Jane and Aunt Beth and I
worked it out so you got equal time for each. Boy time and girl time, time to
cope with your boy problems at school and time to understand how girls
cope. Twelve hours each day for each, learning how to survive as a boy in a
boy's world, and then as girls do it. And the judge did approve!"
"It's never been equal time, Mom! I'm a boy from four in the morning until
four in the afternoon. So the first hours I'm asleep and the rest of the time
I'm in school, where the boys lean on me because I'm not like them, and the
girls mock me. And that's no fun at all! Then after school when you want
me to behave like a girl, it's always the free time and fun time part of the day
the way you scheduled it, so all I ever learn about how girls feel is how girls
have fun. I mean, you got me those Barbie dolls, and I did finally learn to
enjoy collecting them and dressing them. And I love sleepovers with Heather
and Florrie, and the other girls from across town who think I'm really a girl.
We talk girl talk all night, and we help each other with all sorts of things! It
was wonderful when Heather introduced me to her big brother Jim and right
off Jim asked me out. I adore being with him! I get the nicest feeling that he
can protect me from anything! I always feel sort of tingly whenever he talks
to me or touches me. Even without those white pills. Isn't that odd?"
"No, it's natural at your age, sweetheart. Jim is perfect for you at this stage,
Allie, the way other boys will be afterward. But what is it you're telling me?
That being a girl is too much fun, and being a boy isn't?"
"No, Mom, of course not! Just that it isn't fifty fifty, what you arranged for
me. I mean even in boy time I'm always wearing panties, and no one at
school will ever forget that they saw me wearing pink nail polish. Even the
little kids call me names! And now you want me to wear boobies during my
boy time. And I'm always a girl when we visit Aunt Jane and Aunt Beth on
weekends. From Friday afternoons clear through to Monday mornings!"
"We promised the judge you'd learn how to cope with being a boy during
school hours. We said nothing at all about weekends, Allie. And you know
perfectly well that Aunt Jane and Aunt Beth won't have boys in their houses.
Boys are too rough. That's why they want to help you enjoy being a girl
every way they can. The same way I do! You should thank them!"
"I know."
"And Allie, you are starting your adolescence, after all. It's time for you to
start thinking about love, and romance, and things. There are big advantages
to being a girl. You did say you liked sucking on Jim's dingle, didn't you?
Well, would he let a boy do that?"
"No way, Mom!"
"Would he let you do that if he knew that sometimes you're a boy? No, I
thought not. On the other hand, does he ever do anything to you as a girl that
makes you feel good too? Aha, I see you're smiling! Out with it!"
"Oh, yes! Mom, you know those lumps behind my nipples, that make them
stick out in front a little?"
"Yes, they're why I got you that starter bra."
"He likes to take them into his mouth and suck them and lick my nipples.
First one, then the other."
"And you like to let him?"
"Oh, yes! Oh, yes! Mom, it feels just wonderful! Heavenly! I can hardly
breathe when he's sucking on my nipples! We do it for hours. I feel
so...warm toward him then. I hold his head in my arms and I feel
so...wonderful!"
"Now, that's just my point, sweetheart. I'm so glad for you! Could you do
that with Jim if you were a boy?"
"No, there's nothing I'd want him to do with me if I were a boy. Except
maybe throw me a football."
"And which do you prefer? Which would he rather do, do you think? Nurse
on your breasts or throw you a football?"
"Oh, Maaaa! C'mon! You know!"
"Yes, sweetheart, I certainly do know. Boys never do get over their hunger
for the breast. Allie, maybe we should talk more seriously. About your
mausea, Dr. Diana did mention that if it became debilitating she could reduce
the estrogen and progesterone component of your hormonal dosages, but
she'd do that only if you were willing to undergo a corresponding reduction
in the testosterone your body produces."
"Mom, I didn't understand anything you just said."
"She'll prescribe you less girl juice if your body stops making so much boy
juice."
"She can do that? How can I do that?"
"Well, you know that little bag of skin between your legs that hides behind
your dingle?"
"Under my clit. You told me always to call mine a clit."
"Yes, sweetheart. Did you ever wonder what that bag was for?"
"Not really. I know Aunt Jane and Aunt Beth don't have one. Just puffy
edges along that long crack where their clits hide out, where they like me to
kiss them goodbye sometimes when I'm leaving after a visit. 'So I'll respect
womanhood,' they always say. Jim has a little sack like mine, but his has
little eggs in it. He likes me to stroke them if I can be gentle. If I'm not, the
least little bump and he's rolling on the ground, hurting. Mine don't really
ever hurt. They're just sort of teeny blobs in there."
"Well, for that you can be thankful. You'd have eggs like Jim's if I hadn't
started you on your little purple pills a few years ago when your father left
us. Then they'd hurt too when the boys in school hit you there. But those
little blobs can still do you a lot of damage, sweetheart. They can make you
all hairy, and square off your pretty face and make it too big, and turn those
thin, willowy arms of yours into ugly muscles, and make your shoulders and
your waistline too big, not at all slender and dainty like now, and make your
skin rough instead of soft, and make that charming, delicate voice of yours all
deep and hoarse. They can make you bald, like your father. They can make
you mean and belligerent, quarrelsome, like your father when he'd disagree
with me. The big purple pills are needed to stop all that from happening. But
they do make for a kind of war going on in your body, and that's what makes
you feel nauseous when you take them."
"Mom, you know, that's what's happening to lots of boys in my class right
now! Some of them are starting to shave. And Bill and Kevin, the two boys
who used to be my friends, they're now very nasty to me. They pick on me
a lot, and they call me a sissy, and even when I say 'So what, that's what I
am' the way you told me to say, they hit me. They want to score points with
their friends, I figure."
"Probably. But honey, we can fix that! Dr. Diana can fix it."
"How?"
By making you more of a girl. The best way for someone like you to cope
with being a sissy is not to be a boy at all, but to be a girl. Dr. Diana can
shrink those blobs inside your scrotum with medicine or x-rays, or she can
make a teensy incision and remove them, so they can't do you any more
harm. Then the smaller purple pills will be enough to do what needs doing.
"Mom, I ... I don't know. I mean, when Dad left us, all that was supposed
to happen was that I learn to understand girls better. Not to be one. Not
right away. Not yet."
"Why not, sweetie? Do you enjoy being a boy?"
"No. I told you! It's awful!"
"What do you think Jim might do if he found out you're a boy."
"He wouldn't want to put his dingle in my bottom any more. He loves me
when I let him do that! He calls me 'sweet cheeks' and he's so nice to me
when I let him! And he says he just can't help it, once he puts it deep into me
it feels so good he just has to squirt. Every time!"
"Oh? He's been in your bottom? How does it feel?"
"Full. Good. Especially when he moves it in and out. Then after he squirts
I leak, sometimes, but that's kind of nice too, because it reminds me where
he's been. He says boys do the same thing to other boys sometimes, but
they're faggots, queers, and he wants no part of that! With girls it's OK, he
says, because girls have slits too. He doesn't use my slit because I'm under
age."
"I see. You wouldn't want him to find out you don't have a slit, would
you?"
"No Ma'am!"
"So let's see where we are. It seems there's no advantage for you to keep
being a boy, except maybe that you play that computer game -- what do you
call it -- 'Battle Cruiser'-- when you're in boy time. Do you think that if you
were a girl you could still play 'Battle Cruiser'?"
"I guess so. I don't think I'd want to though. There are too many other
interesting things girls do."
"Allie, let me tell you something. Once those nasty blobs are out of the way
I'm sure the judge would agree that we should finish the job. We could
always testify that you were a born hermaphrodite. Or that you lost them
through a high fever, or from getting mumps. Even in a bicycle accident! It
happens. Especially if you yourself asked him to let your doctors finish the
job."
"Really? What job?"
"Well, you remember you mentioned those slits Aunt Jane and Aunt Beth
have between their legs? The kind Jim doesn't know you don't have?
Wouldn't you like to have one after all, a slit of your very own?"
"Mom, I don't know. What are they for?"
"Mainly they're another place for men to stick their dingles. And when
there's a dingle inside it, it feels especially nice. Very very nice. Better than
a dingle in your bottom. Better even than your nipples. Believe me, it's
true!"
"Really? How do you know?"
"I've got one, just like Aunt Jane and Aunt Beth. All girls do. Every now
and then I'll go out and find a nice man to put his dingle into me there, and
it's wonderful. I love it! Or I'll borrow a long plastic dingle from one of
your aunts -- they don't like men any more than they like boys, so they use
artificial dingles on each other. It feels sort of the way Jim makes you feel
when he's sucking on your tits, only much better! It's heavenly. You wait,
you'll see!"
"Do you think Jim would want to put his dingle into mine if I had one?"
"I'm sure of it. In fact I'm equally sure that when he finds out you don't
have one, he'll start looking for another girlfriend. Boys do prefer girls with
breasts and slits both."
"Mom! Don't joke! I want Jim to keep on liking me! He's the only boy who
ever liked me for being girly! All the other boys tease me for it, or punch
me!"
"Yes, honey, I understand. But that's because he thinks you are a girl. I
must tell you in all honesty, sooner or later Jim is going to find out you aren't
a complete girl, and then he's going to be very mad. Maybe even violent.
You'll be lucky if all he does then is stop seeing you."
"Mom! Mommy! Oh, mom! I don't want Jim to stop seeing me!"
"Then stop crying and listen to me, sweetheart. This is serious! Jim may be
your first crush, but he certainly won't be your last. If you get a slit, and I'm
sure you will, you shouldn't get it merely to keep Jim interested. You should
get it for yourself! For your own satisfaction! There are lots of Jims in your
future if you want them. Lots for any girl who has breasts and a slit! Trust
me, I know."
"You mean men like the ones you dated before you married Daddy?"
"And also the ones I dated after I married Daddy. Before your Daddy found
out where I was going night after night and filed for a divorce and sole
custody of his son, claiming I was an unfit mother. The idea! He was so
selfish! He wanted me only for himself! That was what made your aunts
and me decide he should get nothing at all as far as you're concerned. And
that's what he's got, honey, even though he doesn't know it yet. It's just a
matter of your accepting the fact. He has no son now. He has an unhappy
sissy half the time, and a sweet girl the other half. It hasn't been easy for
you, I appreciate that. But I'm sure that in the long run you'll be much better
off when you're all girl, Allie. In fact you know you will be! You just said it
yourself. As a boy everyone is cruel to you and as a girl you're loved.
Which do you want to be full time? You can't ask for an easier choice than
that, can you?"
"No, Mom. I guess not."
"But take your time deciding, anyhow. Hurry on upstairs now. There's
Jane's car in the driveway, and we do want her to see how lovely you look in
those new dresses. Hurry and put on the one you mean to wear for your date
with Jim this coming Saturday. And don't forget to take those pills! We'll
talk more about them later. Maybe a bigger white one will solve your
problem with the big purple ones for the time being. I'm sure a bigger white
one will help make you more popular with more boys as your body takes
shape. Boys like girls who smile and feel good about everything, and don't
remember too well. And you'll want to meet other boys besides Jim to feel
good with, now that you're sexually active. I'll talk to your aunts and to Dr.
Diana about that too! I really do care about you, sweetheart! I do so want
you to be happy! I love you!"
"Oh, Mom! I love you too, you know that!"
"I know, darling. Oooh, what a lovely hug! Upstairs now! Why not try on
that tan print dress first? I'll bet even now you have exactly the right figure
for it!"
FIN
(c) 1999 by Vickie Tern. May be accessioned by any archive with free access
(but do let me know, [email protected]).
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