The Count of Monte CristoChapter 58 M Noirtier de Villefort
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Anything For Love free porn video
Anything for Love
By Heather St. Claire
As I begin this story, it's a late Saturday afternoon. I'm sitting in my
study in our cozy home in a small northern California coastal town. It's hard
to focus on the computer, because this alcove commands a wonderful, if
slightly distant, view of the Pacific Ocean.
But I'm bringing all my powers of concentration to bear on this, because I
feel compelled to set down the tale of my remarkable journey. Right now, I'm
filled with a sense of happiness I never dared dream I could know. My lover,
Kate, and I are just back from a long, romantic walk along the boardwalk.
She's in the kitchen, starting our dinner, while I sit here typing.
I look around at our small, but cozy, house, and find myself comforted by the
warm, feminine touches. The flowers in every room; the soft pastels; the lacy
curtains; the slight scent of lavender; the true sense of hearth and home.
Anyone who saw us strolling along the weathered wooden walkway, arm in arm,
hand in hand, would have thought it not too remarkable a sight; two women,
one a tall, well-build blonde in her mid-30s, the other, a short, buxom
brunette in her late 20s; both obviously very much in love.
This is one of those absolutely gorgeous fall days that make you thankful to
be alive. It's warm without being too warm; just the lightest of breezes was
swirling in the air, gently lifting our skirts. All the blues and greens are
just more vivid on a day like this.
As we walked, and I looked into Kate's eyes, I saw happiness. True happiness.
I can't forget the sorrow and pain that was in those lovely brown eyes when I
first met her; I'm so grateful that it seems to be gone, finally. She tells
me that when she looks into my eyes, she sees happiness too. And a sense of
wonder.
Well, I'm not surprised by that. After all, our life partnership had its
genesis just a little over a year ago; it began 3,000 miles away; and when we
first met, I was a man.
Oh, I should mention that we're both elementary school teachers. That was
also true when this started. In fact, that's how we met.
-----
It was August of last year, and I was returning for my 10th year of teaching
at Middlebrooke Primary School, in Middlebrooke, Vermont. I had grown up in
New England, and had come to truly love the region; its history, its beauty,
the vividness of the seasons; the entire way of life.
I had always wanted to be a teacher, and when I found a job in my hometown
the year I graduated from college, I thought everything in my life was
falling into place nicely.
And I suppose it was, with one exception: I never managed to form a lasting,
loving relationship. I did date a handful of women, sometimes for weeks, or
even months at a time. But something always seemed to be missing....never
once did I find anyone I felt the desire to spend the rest of my life with.
As I approached my mid-30s, I began to wonder if I would end up alone until
the end of my days.
It was the first day for teachers, and we had a 10 a.m. staff meeting; it
would mainly be a get-acquainted session for the newcomers, and a chance for
the rest of us to catch up on our summer activities. I had spent most of the
summer puttering with my novel, which still sits half-finished in the bottom
drawer of my desk, so I didn't have much I felt like sharing.
But my sense of emptiness quickly faded as I gazed for the first time on the
lovely form of Kate Sanders. She was about 5 feet, 4 inches tall; she had
silky brown hair that fell to her shoulders, generous breasts, a sweet smile,
and a pair of soulful brown eyes.
It was her eyes that attracted me from the start. Immediately, I was aware of
her vulnerability, her pain, her sense of loss. Immediately, I wanted to
reach into her heart and wash the sadness away.
Kate was introduced as one of the new third grade instructors; I was a fourth
grade teacher. Other than learning that she had just moved here from
Minnesota, we didn't find out much about her personal life.
After the meeting broke up into informal groups, I quickly sought her out. I
smiled and extended my hand,. "Hi, I'm Brad Wentworth. I teach fourth grade.
I want you to feel welcome, and let you know I'd like to help out in any way
that I can."
She smiled, but I sensed her trying to avoid averting her eyes. "Thanks," she
said. "I'll do my best to get them in good shape for you next year." She
paused, then caught the principal's eye. "Uh, If you'll excuse me, I need to
ask Mrs. McGregor something." And with that, she was gone. Had I made her
that uncomfortable? Or was she just uneasy in all informal situations?
Watching her over the next couple of weeks, I learned that the answer was in
both questions. Yes, I had made her uncomfortable, but it wasn't me. I
observed her carefully, but from a distance, in the teacher's lunchroom, the
lounge, the front office. When I saw her with the other women teachers, she
seemed relaxed and happy. But let a man come around, and her body language
shifted perceptibly. She instantly became defensive, though not outwardly
hostile.
I wondered what had happened to make her feel this way? Or had it always been
with her? When I encountered her in the halls after school or in the parking
lot, I always tried to strike up a conversation. The result was always the
same: polite, distant, and as quick an exit as possible.
Finally, one rainy afternoon near the end of September, I sensed an opening.
I saw Kate leaving her classroom laden down with two pretty-heavy looking
boxes. "Could I help you with those, please," I asked. She looked hesitant
for a moment, but then managed a smile and said, "That would be nice of you,
Mr. Wentworth."
As I took the boxes out of her arms, I said, "I assume you were headed to
your car? And please, call me Brad."
As she held the door open for me, she grinned again and said, "Okay--Brad."
I decided not to press my luck, simply bidding her a good evening. But as I
stood there in the drizzle, I thought about my next opportunity to get to
know her better.
As luck would have it, it came the next day, in the faculty cafeteria. The
only open seat when I came in turned out to be across from her. I greeted
her, and after some small talk about how she was adapting to our school and
the community, I finally asked her if we could get a cup of coffee after work
sometime.
I saw that hesitant look, and for a moment, felt my heart drop into my
stomach. But then, just a hint of a smile, and "Sure....why not?"
We had a faculty meeting after school that day, but agreed to get together
the next afternoon. When I saw Kate that morning, I had kind of a funny
feeling; she was wearing a dark blue dress with a long, full skirt and long
sleeves. She looked beautiful as ever; it just seemed that she wanted to
conceal as much of herself as possible.
It's bad enough when student don't pay attention in class, but when it's the
teacher, there can be real trouble. I had real problems focusing on
vocabulary drills and that day's math problems...I kept thinking, "Gee, only
five hours until I see Kate....only two hours, 12 minutes until I see Kate."
Finally, the bell rang, and I was even happier than my students, if that was
possible.
I sauntered down the hall to her classroom as cheerily as possible. "Ready
for a break, Miss Sanders?" I asked.
"Just give me a couple of minutes to pick up," she said. The tables were
still covered with half put-away poster paint kits. "Let me help," I offered;
she seemed genuinely grateful.
At the coffee shop, she seemed more relaxed than I had ever seen her, but the
reserve was still there. I gathered that she had come here from the Midwest
because of a desire to make a fresh start; but she didn't volunteer what had
led her to this point, and I didn't want to press it. The one thing that
really shone through was her genuine love for kids, and for teaching. I still
enjoyed the job, but had maybe begun to take it for granted just a little
bit; seeing it through her eyes helped bring me a new appreciation for the
chance to help mold young lives.
But when the time came to leave, and I asked if we could get together again
sometime, the wall of reserve was suddenly back. "Uh, well, I don't know...."
she stammered. "It's just that...well, I've been busy, but...." Although I
was surprised at how heartbroken I felt, I tried my best to put on a brave
face, "Don't worry about it," I said, "If you don't want to go out, I won't
pretend that I'm not disappointed, but I don't want to press you."
I read the next look on her face as a combination of sympathy and sadness.
"Oh, Brad, it's not that...it's just....oh, well,.....I just need some time?
I hope you can understand?"
I smiled weakly, and reached over to pat her hand, "It's O-K," I said.
"You're worth waiting for."
She said, "Thanks," but the way she jerked her hand away instinctively
suggested to me that I would be facing a long wait.
-----
So I was all the more surprised when just a week later, she approached me at
lunch, with a request that I escort her to a Halloween costume party. I
quickly, and happily agreed. "You might not be so enthusiastic when you find
out the costume I've picked out for you," she said. "How would you feel about
going as a woman?"
"A woman?" Well, if that was what she wanted...."Sure, why not?"
She smiled happily. "Well, that's great. You're a little tall, but your build
is slim enough. I'll help you with your dress and makeup. And you know what?
I think you're going to find it a lot more fun than you imagine!"
Halloween was on a Saturday, giving me plenty of time to get ready. She told
me to be at her rented house no later than 5, so I was on the doorstep at 10
minutes before the hour. The first thing she did, was lead me into her
bathroom, where she drew a bubble bath and laid out a disposable ladies'
razor and some shaving cream. "Got to get all that hair off your arms and
legs," she said. I raised my eyebrows, and she said, "Either that, or we tell
them you're my cousin from France." And then she laughed! For the first time
in the almost two months, I had known her, she laughed!
That made me feel good...and as she left the bathroom, and I settled down
into the warm bubbles, I found they made me feel surprisingly good. Soon, I
was shaved and dried. I went into the bedroom as she had directed me, and
found the pair of panties she had laid out for me. I put them on, then called
to her.
Soon, she had helped me into a bra; she used wadded up pantyhose to fill the
cups. Once she had everything in place, I thought how she had made a good
choice; they had the right form and "heft," yet were still soft enough with
the right amount of give.
The next step was a pair of pantyhose. I had watched enough women do this to
have an idea of what I needed to do. Carefully rolling them up and pointing
my toes, I pulled them into place. Now she brought out a pair of
pumps--fortunately, with just a one inch heel--so I didn't have to totter
around too badly. She led me over the mirror and asked, "What do you think so
far, Mr. Wentworth?" She was smiling, clearly having fun with this.
"Uh...lovely," I said, with as much enthusiasm as I could muster. A little
hesitantly, I asked, "What's next?"
At this point, she reached for the dress she had picked out for me. It was a
simple, dark blue velvet one- piece with a wide-self belt. It looked simple,
elegant. Kate helped me slip it over my head.
Next, she clutched my hand tightly--boy, did that feel nice!--and led me to
her vanity. She glued a set of press-on nails to my own. "It's a really cheap
way to go, but it'll do for tonight," she said. Then she went to work on my
face. A lot of foundation, a little blusher, some lipstick, eyeshadow,
eyeliner and mascara; and suddenly, a very female face was staring back at
me! When Kate put her curly blonde wig on me, I almost began to feel
frightened. A pair of clip-on earrings completed the look.
"Well," I said, sizing myself up in the mirror once more. "I must say I make
a better looking woman than I thought I would! Say, you never told me what
you're going as?" She smiled coyly, handed me a copy of Cosmopolitan, and
said, "Why don't you just go and read for a while, honey. I want this to be a
surprise."
About 20 minutes later she emerged in a pin-striped suit, fedora and polished
black loafers. Her hair was piled up beneath the fedora, and she had done
something to bind or flatten her ample breasts. "Good evening, sir!" I said,
smiling. "What happened to Kate?"
She did her best to drop her voice a register. "She's got another commitment
tonight. So she asked me to be your escort, pretty lady."
When we got to the car, she even held the door for me! She was really taking
this role reversal seriously. The party itself was pleasant, although not
memorable. The really exciting part came afterward. It began when we got back
to her house, and she asked me in. I assumed that she was going to help me
change back, but asked--almost begged me--to wait. She suggested I pour us a
couple of glasses of wine.
A bit puzzled, but hopeful, I headed to the kitchen to open the wine. When I
came back into the living room, I found Kate lounging on the couch in a very
skimpy red lace teddy. I handed her the wine; before I could say anything she
told me to sit down.
She immediately began to passionately kiss me! The excitement was
incredible--and so was my sense of shock! Why was this woman, who had seen so
defensive and fearful, suddenly attacking me with such relish? I only thought
about if for--oh, half a second or so--before deciding to go with the flow.
Kate guided my hands to her breasts; I began to massage them, and she groaned
with pleasure. We were at it several minutes, when she made it clear that she
was open to just about anything.....as long as my penis was not involved.
It was then the light bulb went off over my head. She liked me just fine, as
long I was a "woman." Clearly, it was the idea of men in general that
repelled her.
I decided not to press the point that evening, but instead, once she helped
me clean up and change, I simply thanked her for a most interesting and
pleasurable time, and wished her a good night.
-----
At school the following Monday, she caught up with me in the lunchroom. "Hi,
Brad. We really need to talk."
"That might help me to understand what the heck is going on in our
relationship--or if we have one."
"This isn't really the place for it now, though--can we get some coffee after
school?"
"I'd like that very much."
A few hours later, we were sitting across from each other in a booth at the
coffee shop.
I decided to do as much listening as possible, and only speak when asked. I
had been reading about problems men and women have communicating; one of the
issues is that men are always looking for answers and solutions, while women
often just need someone to supportively listen.
"I had a pretty tough time growing up," she began. Kate had a sad, distant
look, almost as if she was talking about someone else; when I heard the full
tale of her childhood, I realized this must have been another self-
protective mechanism. Surely the child who had endured several savage
beatings at the hands of her father must have been someone else.
Her mother had loved her and done her best to protect her, but she was too
paralyzed with fear herself to deal with the situation. Finally, when her
father had died in a drunk driving accident when Kate was 12, she had a whole
new set of terrible feelings to deal with; grief, mixed with guilt, because
while part of her loved him despite the terrors he had inflicted on her, part
of him was relieved, even glad that he was dead.
By the time Kate was 18, she had gone away to college in another state, and
was finally beginning to pull out of her life-long depression. But any hopes
that she might find happiness were dashed that December night when she was
raped while walking back to the campus.
As the story of a life filled with physical and emotional torture unfolded, I
found myself crying. I instinctively reached out to take her hand in mine;
she clutched it tightly.
By now, she was crying too. "So you can see why I've feared men all my life?"
she finally asked me.
"Of course," I said quietly.
We were both silent for a long moment.
"Is there anything I can do?" I finally asked. "Is there anything anyone can
do?"
She shook her head sadly. "I've been through years of therapy, and tried
every anti-depressant they've got. Sometimes it helps for a little while, but
the underlying problem remains." She paused. "Now I've got another problem."
"What's that?" I asked, feeling both hopeful and fearful.
"I'm falling in love with you, and at the same time, I'm scared to death of
you. Ohhh, damn, oh damn it! If only you really were a woman!"
Well, this was a lot to absorb. But sometimes the heart knows even when the
mind doesn't. Subconsciously, at least, I had been expecting this; I must
have, otherwise I wouldn't have answered so quickly, "Maybe I can be."
"What are you talking about?"
"What would you say if I told you that I might be able to become a woman for
real? And that I might do it, if it meant we could be together always?"
Now it was her turn to look skeptical, and just a bit fearful. "What are you
talking about? A sex change operation?"
"No, my love, not a sex change operation. I'm talking about a magic
potion--don't laugh!--such things really do exist! I visited the mall last
week, and found a little shop I'd never seen there before, called
Spells-R-Us....there was an actual wizard inside the place.....or if he
wasn't, he was doing a great job of impersonating one....anyway, he gave me
this fluid.....and told me that I would know what to do with it, and when to
do it."
I looked her squarely in the eye. "Honey, I know what that fluid will do. And
I'm willing to do it, for you."
Kate's tears of happiness were replaced by tears of joy. We embraced, and
began planning our new life together.
-----
We both agreed that we would finish out the school year, and then make the
big changes in our life. I would take the potion; we would move to the
northern California community where Kate had inherited her grandparent's
home; and we would do our best to find teaching jobs there.
Things fell into place pretty quickly. Then came the really tough part--seven
months of waiting.
Kate had no problem finding a job in our new town's public school system for
the following year; for me, we'd have to wait and trust something would open
up. After all, I couldn't very well apply as a male and show up as a female.
We tried to put the time to good use by putting me through a crash course in
femininity. Kate spent several hours teaching me about makeup, taking me
shopping, explaining the basics of female behavior. I began counting the
months, then the weeks and days, until my change. I found myself standing at
the sink in the morning, shaving, thinking to myself, "I'll still be shaving
my legs, but I'll only be shaving my face 40 more times." Odd stuff like
that.
The closer the big day approached, the more sure I was about my decision.
"Aren't you just a little afraid?" Kate asked me more than once.
"No," I told her, smiling. "Every day I spend with you, I'm more certain I've
made the right decision. To be honest, I've never been that deeply in love
with the idea of being male anyway. In case you've noticed, I've never
exactly been Mr. Macho."
Still, the transition was a big one, and I wanted to be prepared. Finally,
the last day of school arrived. It was a beautiful late spring day. The
students had made a big sign, "Good-bye Mr. Wentworth." I smiled to myself,
thinking they didn't know the truth of it.
Kate and I went to dinner that night, and drank a farewell toast to Brad
Wentworth. She insisted I sleep in her bed while she curled up on her couch.
The next morning, we were both up before 6, filled with anticipation and
curiosity.
So I took the potion from the container where I had carefully kept it all
these months...and drank it. I remember it tasted kind of like Milk of
Magnesia. After that, I don't remember much. Kate said I almost immediately
fell asleep. She helped me to the couch, and while I slept there for the next
18 hours, my body made its gradual transition from male to female.
Kate said it was a fascinating process to watch; she wished afterward that we
had thought to videotape it.
She opened my pajamas so she could see every detail. "It was slow, but
steady," she told me later. If I kept looking at you for half an hour
straight, it seemed as if nothing had happened; but if I left for 15 minutes
and then came back, the differences were apparent."
First, my body fat began to redistribute itself. My hips widened a bit and my
breasts started to grow. By the time my genitals began to draw up inside of
me, the rapid growth of my hair and the softening of my facial features was
starting to be noticeable.
The first few hours brought the most radical changes; after that, it was more
a process of filling out. The whole time, she said I barely stirred or moved.
I wish I could remember some sort of amazing dreams, but I can't recall a
thing.
Finally, consciousness slowly returned. It had been early morning when I took
the potion; I realized it was now dark outside. The first thing I saw was
Kate, smiling down at me. "Hi, beautiful," she said as I opened my eyes.
I sensed the changes in my body, but was momentarily paralyzed by fear.
Finally, I whispered, "Did it work?" The sweet soprano voice I heard told me
that it had.
Still smiling, Kate said, "Look for yourself, love," and handed me a mirror.
The arm that reached for the mirror was far thinner that the one I
remembered. The delicate hand that took the mirror--could it really be mine?
Tentatively, I brought the mirror to my face.
I could hardly believe the feminine face staring back at me was mine. My oval
face was framed with waves of curly brown hair; I had thin eyebrows, thick
lashes; a pert, upturned nose, high, well-defined cheekbones, and full, pert
lips.
"My God," I said. "It really did work, didn't it?"
Kate nodded happily. "Yes, it did, and you are gorgeous!"
I reached up to feel my breasts. "About a 38D," I said. I moaned as I reached
my new, enlarged nipples. "Mmmm. Very nice!"
Kate suddenly looked concerned. "No regrets?"
I smiled. "None whatsoever," and threw my arms around her.
-----
That night, I was introduced to the joys of woman on woman sex for the first
time. If the last few months had been my college education in feminine
behaviors, this was the graduate course!
It was so wonderful just to kiss her; and the feeling of my breasts mashed
against hers was even more pleasurable than I expected. We took turns
fingering each other to orgasm; then passed a vibrator back and forth, each
exploring the other's love nest. Finally, we fell asleep in each other's
arms.
I did dream that night; dream of the years ahead the two of us would spend
together. Perhaps we would adopt a child or two; maybe we would consider
artificial insemination.
A lifetime of love and laughter; who could ask for anything more? Certainly,
it was what Kate had a right to expect after the darkness of her youth. It
was more than I had a right to ask for, but I would spend the rest of my days
thanking Heaven for this priceless gift.
The End
Gert
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