Wishful Thinking free porn video

Wishful Thinking ? by: Jennifer White There was a knock on my door. On the front steps was a man I didn't know. He looked nervous, shifting his weight from foot to foot. I opened the door, but kept the chain on. In this day and age, a woman can't be too careful. You never know what is out there. "Are you Jennifer?" he asked. "Who are you?" I replied. "I'm Vince. I...I spoke with your friend Ashley. I have a...a problem, and she said you could help me." "Call me Jen," I said, as I opened the door and waved him in. * * * Vince looked very nervous as I had him sit on the couch, and offered him a drink. He accepted, so I brought us out glasses of wine. "OK Vince, what can I do for you?" I asked. Ashley, Kate and Deb often referred men to me. "Well, there's something about me...I need help, and she said..." "It's OK honey, you can tell me. I've done this many times before, so you're not alone. And I won't tell a soul whatever you say to me here." "Thanks" he said, taking a deep swig of his wine. "You see...I like women, but..." "But...," I said, trying to lead him on. Getting the first admission out of a man is the hardest part of the process for them. Once they admit it, the floodgates burst open. "I've always been fascinated by women. Ever since I was a little boy, there was something about them. I don't know why, but I used to wear my sister's clothes when I wasalone." "Yes, go on" I said supportively. "As I grew older, and became sexually aware, I still wanted to be with a woman, and make love to her. But I also realized that when I saw a woman, I didn't just want to love her, I wanted to *be* her. And now I'm even more certain; I want to be a woman." "So you came to me." "Ashley said that you were someone special, and that you knew how to help turn a man...into a woman." "Tell me, how do you feel?" I asked. "About what?" he replied. A typical male response. He was a man inside. I've seen men who were much more advanced than he. They were almost women inside already, and only took a little nudging. I would have to figure out what he really wanted and needed before I could begin. "Before we begin, I need you to answer some questions for me," I said. "OK, what can I tell you?" he said. "First, take off your pants," I said. He looked at me strangely, but complied. "Now different men want to be feminized in different ways," I said. "I'm going to go over a few of the choices, and you tell me what you think about them," I said. "OK" he replied, sounding eager now. "First of all, there is female domination. I could dominate you, crush your male ego, and make you my total slave. You would lose yourself, and become just a shell, living only to serve me, or the woman of my choice who I would sell you to." He looked stunned, but the reaction between his legs told me that he was interested. A bit. "Second, I could force you to become a woman. Not only would I control you, but once you were totally mine, I would strip away your masculinity bit by bit, and mold you into a woman. I would take the parts inside of you that are male, and obliterate them. I would replace them with a new feminine you." He nodded, and got even harder. I hoped he picked this one, it was the most fun for me. "Third, there is what I call the 'Sister Approach'. Instead of forcing you to become a woman, I would do it by gently guiding you, like a sister. I would help you become a woman inside, but you'd be doing it all on your own, without me controlling you. I will warn you that this approach takes a lot more time, and is a lot more expensive for you. But it would let you stop at any time if you felt uncomfortable. If I control you, you don't have that option." His look told me that this wasn't for him. "And then there is the final option. I could make you become a *real* woman. You would no longer be a man at all, in any way. You would truly become a woman. Mentally, spiritually, physically. Totally, completely 100% female." Bingo. The tent formed by his boxers told me I had hit the jackpot. His eyes lit up, and he said that this was what he wanted. "All right, now we know what you want. But before we begin, lets make sure you've really thought about all the consequences. If I turn you into a woman, do you realize that you'll either need to find a new job, or that you'll have to face your current coworkers as a woman? Do you realize that you'll either need to tell your family and friends that you're changing sexes, or that you'll have to turn your back on them, and never see them again? Do you realize that you'll need to buy all new clothes, and with the prices of women's clothes, shoes, accessories, you'll need lots of money? Do you realize that this is a life changing decision, one from which you cannot ever go back?" "I understand," he said grimly. "I've already decided that my friends aren't really that close, except a few women I know. And my family largely ignores me anyway. It won't be hard for me not to see them ever again." "All right. One last thing. You'll need to live with me as you're being altered. And I don't just do this for free. You'll need to pay me a fee. Here's a checklist of what you'll need to do. If you're serious about this, do all of this, and come back to mewhen the list is completed." The list I gave him read as follows: 1. Sell your house(s; 2. Sell your car(s); 3. Give all your male clothes to the poor; 4. Sell or give away all your possessions; 5. Liquidate all your financial assets; 6. Bring a cashier's check for all your money, made out to me; 7. Show up dresses as a woman, with the check in your purse. If a candidate was willing to do all of that, he was serious. If he held back, then he didn't really want to go through with it. I had to be sure though. I made him dress up as woman when he came to me, to see if he was willing to go out and buy an outfit (if he didn't have one already), and go out in public. If he chickened out in any way, well, too bad... * * * I was about 8 weeks later, when Vince returned to me, in full female dress, including a wig, breast forms, shaved legs, makeup, long painted nails, a skirt....fully femmed out. Although there were many touches which almost made me laugh. His makeup wasn't well coordinated. Too much of this, not enough of that and too many colors. The nails were obviously press-ons, and he hadn't even shaped them. They would be the first thing to go. He walked in, opened up his purse, and pulled out a cashier's check made out to me, for the amount of $250,844.17. He *was* serious about this. It would be the best decision that he would ever make, and really the last one that *he* would make. The next time something was decided, it would be *her* decision. *She* would be a girl very soon. We drove to the bank in my car (since had taken a cab), and deposited the money in my account. What he didn't know is that at the end, he'd get most of it back. I wasn't in this to rob people blind, but I had to make a living too! When we got back to my house, I asked again: "How do you feel?" "Nervous" he said. A one word answer. Definitely male. I told him to undress. When he stood before me naked, I took the breast forms and threw them into the trash. "You won't be needing these anymore," I said. I then put my hand around his penis. "And you won't be needing this either. Get ready to say good-bye to it." He had done all the things that men seem to think of as 'feminizing' themselves. He had shaved his legs, armpits, and chest. He was wearing makeup and earrings. He had on a long wig, which made him look like a cheap whore, with his poorly applied makeup. Lets think about this: male swimmers shave all their body hair to get better times. Are they feminine? I think not. (And think of those little speedos! Yum!) Some men pierce their ears. Are they girlish looking for it? Some men have long hair. But some women have short hair. In our culture, shaved legs are sexy. But in some parts of theworld, women don't shave them. Now I think it looks gross to have hairy legs, but that's just me. But it doesn't make female on the other side of the world any less of woman forhaving body hair. No, femininity is truly expressed in two ways: 1) the form of the body, and 2) what's inside the head. Women have different instincts then men do. They have different ways of coping with adversity. Different ways of *feeling*. Our brains work differently. Now Vince may be part way to femininity in his own brain, or it might just be a misplaced sexual response. Some men get aroused at the thought of feminization, but once they're a girl, they're miserable. But it's his choice, and if that's what he wants... * * * Ashley was right when she told him that I helped men become women. I had given him the full 'menu' of options, and he chose real feminization. This was the hardest one to do, and took the most out of me. The first two choices involved mind control, the Sister Approach was just a matter of mentoring. But full feminization involved physical changes. I had learned from experience that if you try to train a man first in feminine ways, once he gets a female body, there is still a huge learning curve, and you have to retrain from the start again. So it's better to feminize the body first, then the brain will follow. If he was at least taking estrogen on his own before he came to me, that might help accelerate things. When the man's brain gets deluged with female hormones for the first time, and his brain chemistry starts to change, it can be quite an emotional roller coaster. I hoped he was ready for the ride. "All right Vince, lets begin," I said, "First thing, let's pick out a female name for you. You have a name in mind already, don't you?" "Yes," he said, "When I dress up, I think of myself as 'Amanda'." "Are you sure on the name? I once you pick one, you can't change it later." "No, I'm sure I want to be 'Amanda Jane'." "So be it," I said, "From this moment on, you are Amanda Jane. Now hang on Amanda, this may hurt a little." It was only at this point where I revealed my true powers to him. His eyes lit upas I began to work the magic. It took my full mental concentration, my full powers, and the proper incantations to start the process. Soon he shielded his eyes, as I was enshrouded in a blinding white light. I spoke out loud the ancient words: Strength to beauty, logic to emotion, Hard to soft, straight to curve. Out to in, give to receive, Sow to reap, provide to nurture. Male to female, let this being, Enter the feminine realm. Amanda began to also glow, as the light surrounded her. She winced in pain, as her change began. Bone rekinitting itself into slightly different structures. Her breasts and swelling into soft feminine curves, while between her legs, he male parts pulled back into her body and remade themselves into ovaries, fallopian tubes, uterus, clitoris, labia, and other female structures. She fell to the floor, so great was the pain. There is always pain with childbirth, and she was literally being reborn now. Reborn female. Only this time, she was the one feeling the pain, not her mother. The magic changed her face to a soft, feminine appearance. I made her hair longer, and blond, since that is what she had chosen for her wig. I made her smaller, down to my size, so she would also fit my clothes. I made her breasts large (much larger than mine), matching the size of the breast forms she had used. I remade her into the image of the woman she wished that she was. At last, the light around her started to fade, and pull back into her, and radiated back out as her new beauty. I was breathless myself, my energy drained. As I ended the magic, I had to sit down and catch my breath. Amanda for her part was exhausted to, her body's energy reserves almost depleted. She lay out naked on the floor, and fell asleep. This gave me some time to recover myself. I moved her to the bed, pulled the covers over her, and we both slept for hours. * * * Amanda woke up in bed where I had left her. I was by her side, watching over her. "How do you feel?" I asked. "I feel...I feel feminine!" she said with excitement. I nodded my head. Still not the answer a woman would give. But she would learn. "Is this real?" she asked, in her high pitched voice, full of amazement. "Yes my dear, this is your world now," I replied gently. The room was bright, with yellows and pinks in the trim and the wallpaper; a canopy bed with deep fluffy pillows sat in the middle with a matching furniture set. Flowers in vases sat on the night table, stuffed animals and dolls on the shelves. The sun shone in through the white lace curtains, and the slightly ajar walk-in in closet door gave a glimpse of a clothes rack full of dresses, ranging from fancy and frilly, to business appropriate, to sexy. "This is so wonderful!" she said. At this point, they all did. It was only after the reality of being a real woman set in, that many of them changed their minds. There is a reason why women have a real inner strength, which most men don't have: we need it. I had seen many men crack within months of becoming female. I hoped for Amanda's sake that she liked it as much as she thought she would. There were also some men who thought they wished they were women, but they were in love with the *idea* of being female, not the reality of it. They would prefer to play a game, not live it. For them, dress-up and role playing are the way to go. Some men also like the idea of being a woman, but only because they get a sexual rise from it. If a man is going to spend the rest of his life as a woman, that had better not be his motivating factor. Once he's a real woman, he'll never 'get a rise' again. She needs to learn how to feel female sexual response to stimuli. She needs to learn what makes her get wet, and what brings her to climax. Wearing a bra and a skirt are not enough for that! Once she adjusts after a few days, female clothes will no longer be exotic and exciting; they'll become her normal dress. And except for the occasional times she'll get to dress up in a gown or a fancy dress, the clothes loose their glimmer. They are no longer forbidden, so they lose their attraction that way too. Men need to consider this before they wish to be a real girl. "Jen...you did it! I'm a woman" she said, still not believing it. It normally took a few days of waking up female for them to really get it, and for the shock to wear off. "Well, what are you waiting for?" I asked. "Let's get you dressed up, and get out of here!" "We're going out?" she said. "Yes. What better way to get your feet wet, than for us to go out dancing tonight. It's 4:30 now, so you'll have to hurry if we'll get out at a decent hour." "What do you mean? I'll just get dressed, and we'll go. What could take so long?" "You have a lot to learn," I said, shaking my head. Amanda had to first select an outfit. It took over an hour for her to wade through all of the options before picking the little black dress she liked. Then she had to pick the right pair of shoes to go with it. That took some time. Next, she showered, shaved her legs, and washed her hair. I had to teach her so many little simple things that a girl takes for granted, but a guy doesn't even know. Forexample, when she got out of the shower, she started by wiping her face with the towel. "Stop!" I shrieked. "Don't do that! You'll stretch your skin, and get wrinkles early. You need to dab yourself off, like this," I said showing her. Then she didn't know how to dry her long hair, or even how to wrap the towel around her hair to tie it up. Like I said, lots of little things. After applying moisturizes and deodorant, she began to dress up. I had to explain to her that you don't wear a white bra with a black dress (she didn't even know why!), and show her what the different kinds of bras are, and why you'd want one versus another (demi bra, pushup, water bra (she didn't need that!), underwire, sports bra and so on). She had dressed up in bras as a man, but didn't really learn the differences, because she just had one. Then came the makeup. She had a little practice with that, so I only had to help her select colors which matched her skin tones. She wanted to use a shade of blush which would have looked horrid on her, and I had to show her why. Next, we did her hair. She had put on a wig before, but didn't know how to style her own natural long hair. Or which perfume to use. Or which jewelry would look good with the particular outfit. I think the main problem was the when *I* would dress up, I had an overall image in mind that I'm going for. All the little things go into making up an entire ensemble to meet that image. But she would just pick and choose items, without thinking of the whole. For example, if you're dressing in an elegant evening dress, dangling ear rings might look good (and pearls mandatory of course), but when you're going out dancing, the same set of jewelry doesn't look right. She would learn. Now she put the rest of the clothes on, and we were able to go out. It was after 8:00, and she could not believe how long it had taken to get ready. Time flies when you're having fun! * * * We started out with dinner at a nice restaurant. After drinks (I had to tell her not to order a beer!), appetizers and salad, she said that she needed to use the ladies room. I got up to go with her. She gave me a strange look. "Oh yeah, I forgot, women always go in pairs. Why is that?" she said. "You'll see," I replied. As usual, when we go inside, there was a line for a stall. "Oh I get it. Rather than standing around and looking silly, you have someone to talk to." "You've got it," I said with a smile. She was a quick learner. Once we were inside the stalls, she was surprised. "Ew! Men have been in here!" she said. "Why do you say that?" "There's urine on the seat, so it had to have been a man. I went earlier today, and you don't even have to aim when you're a woman! How can you miss with this thing?" I laughed. "You're forgetting one thing: most women don't like to use a public rest room unless we have to. I mean, you never know who's been sitting on that seat, or what germs or who knows what else is all over it. A lot of women try to go while standing over it, so you don't have to touch. So sometimes you miss a little bit." "Really?" "Yes really. And we try to avoid it, because you don't want your good clothes touching anything dirty either." "It is a lot harder to go when I have to take all this off, instead of just unzipping my fly." "The only advantage to being male," I said. We both laughed. * * * A couple of hours later, we found ourselves at the table of a hot dance club, sipping margaritas, and resting our feet for a few minutes. She didn't quite have the natural grace and rhythm yet that most girls had, but that would come in time as her brain adjusted to the flow of hormones which was hitting it for the first time now. "That guy in the black shirt is cute, don't you think?" I asked her. "Um...I'm not ready for that," she said. "Just testing. You'll get there. Give your hormones a chance. One day soon, some guy will make your heart skip a beat, then you'll know what I'm talking about." "Am I really going to change? What if I want to be a lesbian?" "Once it kicks in, you'll crave guys. Just keep an open mind. You're a girl now, remember? Everything is different." We danced another hour before heading home. She was exhausted, and I was tired too. Her feet were not accustomed to high heels, and her calves were aching. So home we went for the night. We sat up and talked for hours. She couldn't get enough of her new body, and had many questions for me. There was only so much I could tell her though, some things she needed to find out for herself... * * * The next morning, Amanda didn't look very good. "Oooh. I really hurt!" she moaned. "What's wrong sweetie?" I asked, concerned. "It hurts" "Where?" "Here" she said, pointing to where her ovaries were. "Does it feel like a cramp inside?" "Yes. Please, what's going on?" "You are experiencing your period babe. Now that you're a girl, you get them you know. Some of us call it 'the curse'." "My period?" "Yes. Here, take off your panties. Lets see if you're flowing yet." She pulled them down, and I had her test herself with a tissue. "You're just spotting, but now would be a good time to learn how to put in a tampon," I said. I showed her how to put one in, how to take it out, what panty liners were, maxi pads, along with how and why to use them for light days, heavy days, the ebb and flow of your period. I told her that I didn't like pads, because they felt to me like I was wearing a diaper. But some women swore by them, and she would have to figure out what kind of woman she was. I had just started my period too, so it didn't surprise me she did too. We girls tend to have our periods around the same time when we hang out a lot together, you know. Like all the girls in my dorm at college had, or my roommates when I couldn't afford a house of my own. Or 'my new girls' as I liked to call the men I brought over to our side of the gender boundary. "The blood...," she said. "You're just shedding the lining of your uterus. You didn't get pregnant, so your body is getting ready for your next ovulation, in hopes that you'll get pregnant this time. You're going to go through this every month." "Can't you take something?" "Well, different women experience their period differently. Some of us are only effected a little bit. Some of us really suffer. Midol might work for you. For really severe cases, you can go on 'the pill'. It fools the body into thinking you're pregnant, so you don't run into this every month. Oh, by the way, did I mention that the hormones might make you cranky? Don't forget PMS. Yes, it can be a real curse." She was really suffering, so I decided to treat her. I took her out to the beauty salon, for a manicure and a pedicure. She would love getting pampered. They gave a hand and wrist massage with the manicure, and did an foot and calve message with the pedicure, so it was relaxing. We just walked in at my favorite place, and there was a bit of a wait, so we grabbed seats. She looked uncomfortable, so I decided to go over a magazine with her, to ease her mind. "Ooh, look at this picture of Brittany. I can't believe she's so slutty. What do you think of her dress?" "I'd like to try one like that, but perhaps not show so much cleavage." "Well, you've got more cleavage than that. If you've got it, flaunt it!" "You shut up!" she said, and we giggled. We looked at different fashions in YM, Cosmo, and an old battered copy of Glamour. I tried to slyly show her pictures of the hot guys, but she didn't respond. She had too much man in her brain still, and she was afraid to let go, and feel what her body wanted her to feel. But no worry, she would eventually turn. I loved watching them when they started craving men. It was the most fun for me. Now a couple of other women, a mother and daughter, came in and sat with us. We chatted a bit. Amanda was quiet. She was still thinking too much like a man, and didn't get going on the gossip with us. But as she listened, she did add a few thoughts to the conversation, which revolved around Brad Pitt, who was on the cover of GQ. I couldn't explain why salons often had a man's magazine or two on the table. I've never seen a man willing to wait for his wife or girlfriend. It's like they're scared to be in a salon, and want to go run out to look at electronics next door or something. I mean, what's the big deal? Are they afraid that they'll be grabbed, and someone will force them to get their nails done? Now at my house that might be true, but not here. Soon, we were called. We were lucky to go back together. Amanda was very stiff and nervous, because she had never gone through this before. As we sat side by side, our feet soaking in the bubbling water, I tried to calm her. "It's OK. Just talk to the girl working on you. She won't bite." "I'll try," she replied. "What are they going to do to me?" "You'll see. Just relax and enjoy it." They did all the usual: pushing back the cuticles, trimming the nails, applying and rubbing in different liquids and gels to the toenails, then the foot and calve message. That was my favorite part. Then they put on a base coat. Joanne was my nail tech. She put the spreader in between my toes, and showed me the colors to choose from. I had my favorite shades, but I was interested to see what Amanda would pick. "I tell you what," I said. "My friend Amanda is staying with me for a while. Wouldn't it be really cute if we matched? Why don't you ask her, then use the same color on me." "That's a great idea. Amanda, what color do you like?" We looked through different colors, with Joanne helping her understand how some of the colors related to her other makeup choices, and her skin tones. We ended up finding a cool light red color, which worked for both of us. We gave the thumbs up, and Joanne put it on our toes. After a couple of coats were applied and dried, she finished it with a shiny top coat. Amanda looked a lot less tense now. At first, it looked like she would have jumped out of her chair at just a touch, but she was starting to enjoy it. Now it was time for the hands. Joanne went through all of the steps, and it seemed like only a few moments later that we found ourselves with our hands under the dryer, chatting with the other customers. As Amanda talked like an old pro, I think that something was really dawning on her. You could do all of the things you need for your nails yourself at home. But part of being a woman is that you like being pampered. You like having someone else do these things for you. And then there is the social aspect. Women don't go to a salon to be alone. We go to be with other women. It is *our* realm. The men have their business offices, their locker rooms, and such. We have beauty salons. Boys: keep out! This is our place to relax, be our feminine selves, and to socialize in a way we are prevented from doing. I think there is something primal to it. Men like to go hunting, jump off mountains, or some other testosterone driven way to take risks. And when the men were all off trying to kill woolly mammoths or other such beasts, where were the women? We were all alone together, able to be *women*. I think that in our modern times we miss this, so the salon has become our haven. I would advise any woman to make your man give you $40, tell him to go join a hockey team or something, then go get your nails done. Your inner woman will thank you for it (even if he never notices you nails.... it seems to be yet another blind spot for guys!). * * * Day by day, I would smile as Amanda started to pick up feminine traits. The way that she walked and carried herself was changing. She was starting to pick up grace in her movements. She was smiling more, talking more, and starting to feel emotions in a way she never did before. We were walking downtown one day, shopping for new shoes, when we came across a homeless lady. She was ragged, with a dirty face. She only had a few teeth left in her mouth. "Please, I'm cold and hungry" she said. "Here" said Amanda, giving her $5 out of her purse. As we walked away, I saw that Amanda had a tear in her eye. "What's the matter?" I asked. "Oh that poor woman!" she said. "Sleeping out in the cold! Nobody to come home and love at night! I just felt inside how awful her life must be. I felt like I was going to be on the street tonight, cold and hungry too. I just had to give her something." "You're learning empathy," I said. "You'll find that as a woman, you have a much stronger sense of empathy than as a man. I bet you never gave a homeless person money before, did you?" "No, I hadn't," she replied. "See? Your mind is reorganizing itself into the female form. You are feeling emotions differently than before. And once you give birth, it will change even more. Just wait until the hormones hit your system." "I don't notice anything. How am I different than before?" "Well, for example, when a man sees a homeless person, he thinks about all these logical reasons why that person is in that position. They'll say, 'Go get a job, you bum', or something. But as a woman, you just focused on yourself to feel the emotions of that woman. You turned inward to experience her emotions. That is what I meant by empathy." "I see! So I didn't just see her logically, I *felt* her emotionally." "Yes. And that triggered a caring response from you. See? You are changing inside. You *are* starting to think like a woman." "I didn't believe that we were really that different." "Well, estrogen actually effects the way the brain connections form. The two sides of women's brains have a lot more connections then do men's. Other than anger, which they seem to excel in, men's emotions just stay buried. But for us, they flow more easily. You can thank your estrogen again." "But when you changed me, why didn't my brain change too?" "If your brain was changed when your body changed, then you'd have gone insane. The only way is to let time run its course, and let your brain be feminized over time by your new body." She smiled, and we went in to look at the black pumps in the window which we had been drooling over. * * * A couple of days later, Amanda looked glum. We had gotten a good night's sleep, and we had a great day at the art museum the evening before. So I didn't know why she would be feeling so down. "I'm ugly," she said. Ah, that was it. Now I know that men will never quite understand this, but even the most gorgeous lingerie super model needs feedback from others, particularly her man (hint hint), that she is beautiful. A woman needs to feel loved, supported (not just by her bra), and needs constant support and feedback. I mean, I've looked at my legs, and thought about how ugly they are, and why can't I have ones like Julia Roberts. OK, silly thought, but it's true. Now I've been told many times that I have wonderful legs, and sexy calves. But sometimes they look so ugly to me! And if I feel that way, then I feel ugly overall. I explained this all to Amanda, and that it is normal for a woman to be like this. Not all of us are the same of course, but a majority of us have this inner need to be told that we are pretty. I decided that she was almost ready for a man. And predictably, her first feelings came at the worst possible time. We were out at the mall, going over the 40% off rack at The Gap. She really liked this one denim skirt they had, with a ruffle on the bottom. It was definitely *not* my style, but if that's what she wanted to wear, hey who am I to say. As the clerk rang up our order then bent down to get a bag, I caught Amanda staring at his butt. They were out of bags, and he had to go to the back to get one for her. As he walked off, she spoke to me. "Ooh, yummy" she said. "What?" I asked innocently. "Him!" she whispered, causing her to cover her face with her hands and giggle. "I want him!" She blushed, realizing what she had just said. She had to look aside as he returned, and gave her the bag with the receipt. I elbowed her. "Get his number! Or give him yours!" I hissed. She pulled me out of there. "Jen, what is wrong with me? I wanted him!" "You're a chick. He's hot. You're *supposed* to want him." "But not me! I'm a man inside." "Not as much as you'd think. I doubt there is much man in you at all anymore. Now tell me more about what you felt! "I had a tingling inside. My heart jumped! And inside, between my legs, I felt something." "What?" "I think I got excited. I think I got turned on, and I got wet." "Congratulations babe! See, you're a lot more woman than man." "But I didn't think I would be," she said, tears welling up in her eyes. This could be a hard time for a 'new girl'. She was losing more of the illusions of what a woman was, and starting to realize that when she moved to her new body, it was impossible for her to think they old way for very long. She was changing, if she liked it or not. She wanted to go to the ladies room to wash out her eyes, and fix her makeup. She also wanted to wipe herself out. She said that getting wet made her feel dirty. I didn't stop her. "Oh no" she said, when she wiped herself. "What's the matter?" I asked. "I'm starting. I'm spotting." "Well, did you remember to stock your purse up?" "I forgot. Do you have a liner I could borrow?" "I have a tampon," I said, handing it to her over the door. She would have to learn to keep her purse fully loaded. Men always make fun of us: 'What do you need so much junk in there for?'. But they don't know what it's like to be a girl. You need to be ready for anything. I feel naked without my lipstick in my purse. What if I need to fix it? Or how can I go without having a tampon in there? Geez. "You're right Jen," she said as we walked to the coffee shop. "I want to get laid by him. As I put the tampon in, I imagined that it was something else penetrating me." "It always happens. I get really horny when I'm just starting too. I think it's nature's joke on us. Not only do we have to live with 'the curse', but you get horniest just when no guy would ever touch you. I laid a guy once when I was starting. When he saw the blood on his penis, he freaked out. I thought he was going to scream when he saw it. It's funny now, but he never called me again." "How was he?" "What do you mean?" "In bed!" "Oh, I've had better. But that cute guy at The Gap looked like he was barely legal. I bet he could go all night with you." "Oh stop it!" We laughed, and sipped our coffee. And ironically, who should come by, on his break? Counter boy himself. I gave Amanda a light kick under the table. "No!" she said. "Yes!" I insisted. "Well, OK," she relented. We struck sexy poses, crossing our legs and sticking our chests out. As he walked by, Amanda spoke to him. "Why hello there! I just bought a skirt from you in the store! Would you like to sit down?" "Sure, I guess," he said. "My name is Tom. What's yours again?" We had him now. There was no way that Amanda would let him our of her clutches. He didn't know that he was dead meat, her first conquest. * * * Amanda waited until their third date, after she stopped flowing, before she took him home and made him hers. I could hear her through the wall. She turned out to be a moaner. I definitely needed thicker walls. I turned on the TV and smiled. Another successful convert. I had invested most of the money she brought me, and it had increased fairly well. I would keep a reasonable fee, and give her back the rest. She could start a new life with it. There was nothing more I could teach her now. She squealed with pleasure as young Tom went at her. After her first female orgasms tonight, I would bet that she would not even remember what it had been like to be a man. I hoped that Kate or Deb would refer me someone else soon. I hated having to wait very long in between clients....