The Perfect Mate free porn video

The Perfect Mate ? You know that kind of person who has a flaky side? Well my friend Marion has four of them. Astrology, yoga, vegan and ... who knows what she was worshipping at the time. It's amazing people like that can operate in the 21st Century. Though maybe for me it's a good thing she saw the world through?a different perspective. ? Marion and I had worked together for years. I'm an executive with a public relations firm, and Marion is my Girl Friday, and perfectly happy to be in that position. She's kind and nurturing and someone I try to keep away from our more straight-laced clients. She gets huge bonuses for helping me do my job, and real satisfaction from it, as she constantly tells me. If she weren't a lesbian, she'd make a perfect wife. ? And speaking of perfect wives, I thought I had had one for 20 years, but last year Jennifer announced that she was giving herself a 20th anniversary present -- a divorce. I guess we had grown somewhat distant, and sex was pretty much routine, but I still loved her, if only in a plutonic way. Yes, I knew she was calculating and self-centered, and a relentless social?climber, but she could also be ... um ... why did I marry her again??Besides, we had two kids, Jessica, 19, and Jacob 15. The divorce was quick and painless, and she immediately took up with her boss at the medical center where she worked. ? It hit me harder than I thought, to the point I'd become grouchy at work (even to Marion), and a drill sergeant with the kids. So in a way I'd lost my whole family in the divorce. I was hurt, I guess, and filled with resentment and hostility. ? After six months of this behavior, Marion came in my office and closed my door, and said she had a fix for all my problems. I figured it would be a new brand of herbal tea she discovered, and was about to order her out, when she produced a small wooden box with silver inlay and adorned with a ring of 21 opals. Three were pink and the rest were black. "David," she said, "this sounds so strange to someone like you, I know, but it was designed by Aztecs..." at this point my mind wandered to what I'd have for lunch and if I could beg Jacob to go with the game with me tonight ... ? Finally, she got to the point. "Put a ring in here, wish for your ideal mate, and the next day your life will instantly be changed so you will be with them." Uh-huh. Hoo boy. This was off the flake continuum, even for a Marion. "All you have to do," she said, "is put the ring back on, and the next morning you'll wake up with your ideal mate. And its great because you can try it three times, though every time you try, you have to be with your ideal mate for a month." ? The only way to get rid of her when she gets a bug like this is to have your astrology chart done, drink the tea, attend the zither concert, or whatever. Since I love Marion, I usually indulge her. So, I pulled my wedding ring out of my drawer, put it in the box, and said: ? "My idea mate would be all the things my ex isn't. She'd be supportive and loving, and would forgive me when I work too hard and come home late. She'd be someone I love, and would love my kids too. Oh, and we would have the hottest sex I can imagine." ? Marion blushed at this, but said the part about loving my kids was sweet. Then she told me to pull the ring out, put it on my finger, and wait to wake up the next morning, when my wish would be granted. I put the?ring on, and immediately screamed: "It burns us! It burns us!" ? Marion humored me with a smile. Just then my son walked in the office, and said, "Hey Dad, my friend and I wanted to go to the game tomorrow night, and I was wondering if you got those tickets." ? "Well, I do have them sport, but I was hoping you and I could go," I said. ? He gave me that look that all parents of teenagers hate. But I persisted: ? "I know I've been kind of a bear to be around for a while, Jacob, but I really want to try and patch things up." ? To my surprise, he said yes. Marion is a genius, the tickets and asking Jacob where her ideas. I told Jacob this, and he thanked Marion, reluctantly. He was at an age where he wasn't quite used to the idea of gays and lesbians, though Marion adored him. My daughter Jessica was a different case, and loved Marion to pieces. After all, Marion was kind of like the emotionally available woman that Jessica lacked in her actual mother. ? So, to humor Marion, I wore my wedding ring home and to bed. And I have to admit that as lay there in my small apartment (guess who got the house in the settlement), I wished that the magic would work. I'd had enough of being lonely. When I first woke up the next morning, I opened my eyes slowly, wishing that box really worked. The first thing I saw was the back of a familiar head, but I just couldn't place it. I reached my hand up to pull down the covers and, it wasn't my hand. It was a middle aged-woman's hand, with a woman's wedding ring on it. I guess the gasp I must of let out woke my bedmate, because two seconds later she rolled over and it was ... Marion. She looked at me and smiled, and leaned over and gave me a decidedly non- plutonic kiss. I was too stunned to move, let along kiss back. ? "Babe, what's wrong? She asked, looking very hurt and alarmed. What happened next was a frenzy of crying, blabbering, anxiety attacks and being forced fed some Xanax. I eventually calmed down, looked in the mirror, and was pretty much shocked and amazed to see what I'd become. I was my own age, had my own color eyes and own color hair (with the same streaks of grey), I was in roughly the same state of fitness (very fit), and I was ... well ... beautiful. I guess I was Marion's perfect idea of a partner. As I undressed to take a shower, I noticed I'd had at least one child (some things never go back), had c cup breasts that at one point in my life must have been spectacular (and were pretty nice still, with the right bra), and had hair that was probably too long for my age. Still, it was pretty and mostly medium brown, and looked nice framing my shoulders. Yes, I'd already begun to think of myself as a woman, because part of the spell is to give you the memories and emotions of the person you become. I showered, peed, dried my hair, and stepped into a pair of jeans, put on a pretty Wacoal bra, and a light pink top. I knew that 10 hours earlier I had been 6-feet tall and had a whole different set of equipment, but somehow I was perfectly comfortable as a woman. ? Thank goodness my partner was Marion, because you had to have her faith in the mystical to believe the story I told her. But she did believe me, and was at first fascinated, and then, well, very sad. Her memories were of us being together for three years. We'd fallen in love after having met at our book club, and I had left my husband to be with her. Oh yes, I remembered him perfectly. Member of the Lion's Club, big shot businessman, and a total bore. And our kids were .... well, my kids. My exact same kids. Thank goodness. As badly as we'd been getting along since the divorce, I still loved them more than anything. ? I gave her a hug, realizing what she'd lost. And as I hugged her, I realized I was attracted to her. The spell did that, I guess. My name was now Shelley, and I remember all the good times we'd had together. Now, Marion wasn't that great looking -- I mean, I was a much prettier woman than she was -- but her blonde hair, nice smile, blue eyes and curvy, though kind of heavy body, made her attractive. I guess I would have freaked more, but if the spell worked, then the part about only having to stay in this body only for a month should work too. I could just wish my old life back, or wish more intelligently this time. ? Marion, despite her ... loss ... was the same wonderful woman. And insightful. She quickly figured out why the spell had worked as it did. Marion was supporting and loving, and forgiving. She was someone I already loved, though not romantically, and she loved my kids. I guess by including my kids in my wish, they were automatically included in my new life. The clincher was??'the hottest sex I can imagine." Like many men, girl-on-girl was my favorite fantasy. ? My life was much as it was before. Same job, same car even. My ex-wife, unfortunately, existed in this universe, and was actually a client of mine. She was coming by the office today to discuss a campaign I'd designed for her husband, who was running for town councilman. I also remembered I was going to have lunch with my kids. Jessica, I suddenly thought, had taken my leaving her father for Marion pretty well, considering. Jacob, as I should have known was taking it personally. Rebelling, being the same snot nosed brat he could often be. Still, he was my son, and warm feelings flooded in about him. Funny, I thought. But then I figured I now had maternal feelings. I remembered being pregnant with him, nursing him, helping him .... STOP! I screamed at myself. Those are all memories manufactured by the spell. I could stop the memories, but my warm feelings for him were unchanged. And I was so proud of how Jessica was turning into a young woman. Then again, I'd felt that before as her dad. I had a new incite about my son, now, though. It was that he was having trouble growing into being a young man. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but I filed it away to think about later. ? Lunch turned out to be ... interesting. Jacob obviously was making a new effort to be nice, and Jessica, to my surprise, was dressed rather provocatively. Turns out she was meeting her new boyfriend that afternoon. A low cut top and mini skirt were not her normal attire, and I gave her a little disapproving look, but .... sigh ... she was growing up. And I was glad she'd been blessed with my breasts ... STOP IT! It was getting a little harder to block those fake memories, I realized. The meeting with my ex was an entirely different story. Oh, my. What a bitch. As poorly as she sometimes treated me, she treated people who worked for her like dirt. I made sure to promise her the moon and the stars, and made a mental note to be slow to deliver. Also, I think there was a twinge of jealousy on her part. I was one good-looking 48 year old woman. I made sure to ask how her "handsome" husband was. And she said: "Oh, I didn't think ... ah ... people like you noticed such things." I smiled and showed her the door, but my lesbian self was so mad. I went back to my office and cried. Part of it was that I was pre-menopause. Great, just great. ? Marion was her usual comforting self when I got home, and gave me a big (though lingering) hug and a glass of wine. I hated wine, but now it tasted good. She rubbed my shoulders and gave me her "there, there, tell me all about it routine." It was just what the doctor ordered. Before I knew it, I was spilling my heart to her about my day, and all the new things I'd discovered about myself, my family, and being a woman. And then, I asked her how her day had been, and I realized I rarely did that when I was her male boss. And she told me, and told me. And told me. In endless detail. But this time, instead of tuning her out, I found myself listening intently and looking into those bright blue eyes. ? What happened next was a shock to both of us. I was naturally leaning closer and closer, and we melted into a kiss. All my romantic, spell- induced feelings came rushing in, and we ended up in bed, making love for hours. She knew just where to touch me, and I her. It was the sweetest love I could ever have imagined, and had none of the finality of having sex while a man. We just went on and on. Slowly and romantically. And then we took a bath together afterwards. It was ... pure bliss. ? As the end of the month neared, I knew two things: It would be hard to give up my new life, and I had to do it. Even though I cared for Marion deeply, I wasn't in love with her. The mystical, flakey stuff was something that rubbed me the wrong way no matter what sex I was. Ultimately I needed to become a man again because I was tired of suppressing my "Shelley" memories. It was like I was two people in one body. ? So, we retrieved the box, and I put in my wedding band. I'd thought this through thoroughly this time, and wrote it down. This is what I wished: "This time I don't wish to be the member of the opposite sex. I wish to still be a parent to my kids. I wish that I would be married to my ideal mate. My ideal mate must not be flakey or new-agey, but must be grounded. We're in love. I'll be perfectly comfortable in my new role." I kissed Marion goodnight, put on my wedding band, and went to sleep. My last thought was that if I blew it again, I'll just wish myself back to my original life." Still, when I woke up the next morning, it was with some fear. I gradually opened my eyes. Hmmm. Expensive-looking bedroom, that's a good thing. Hot woman in a bed with me, that's a good thing. Wait, I was looking in a mirror. Damn. I was the hot woman. I pulled the covers back and immediately noticed amazing breasts in a sheer pink nightie. I sat up, and the blonde hair that had been behind me fell over my shoulders. It was long, light, slightly wavy, and to mid back. I had to arrange the bangs in front of my eyes so I could see, and brush back the layers that framed my face. Tiny waist. I remembered getting a little lipo to take it down to 24 inches, then I remembered other procedures. A little eye lift so my big blue would look even bigger, a boob job, of course, from b cup to d cup. My nipples had even been raised a bit to make them look perkier. Finally, a nose job. A slight bump had been removed and it had been shortened just a tad, to make it sleek and perfect. I notice my light brown roots were showing a bit, and made a mental note to schedule an appointment with my colorist. I stood up a little unsteadily, given I had to counterbalance my boobs, and then proceeded to strike every sexy pose I could think of in front of the mirror. Boobs out, ass out, looking over my shoulder coyly, legs crossed ... they I remembered I used to model. No, wait, I was Miss Maryland. Right. Got the scholarship, did a little modeling, lost Miss America to that bitch from Alabama, and married .... ? Oh my gosh. I married. Right. A rich older guy. I turned around and he was lying in bed, staring at me. The bulge under the sheet couldn't be missed. ? "Good morning," Shelley, he said with an unmistakable husky get-your- bubble-butt-over-here-so-I-can-screw-you tone. My first reaction was horror. My second reaction was, "what a good looking and rich guy. My third reaction was, I love him." It was with these mingled emotions that I walked a little unsteadily to the bed, landing a little heavily on the heels of my feet so that my breasts jiggled?and bounced as I came closer. As if in a dream, I pulled the covers back, took his balls gently in my left hand, stroked the base of his cock with my right hand, and started sucking contentedly, looking up at him as I performed my first blow job. His hair was flecked with grey, and from this position he looked older than his ... oh yes, 51 years. He was .. 24 years older than I. After bringing him to the point of climax, I climbed up on him and, basically did all the work. He lay there as I impaled myself upon his thick rod, while he watched, and occasionally pulled me down far enough to suck my nipples. A mirror over the head of the bed gave me quite a view of myself -- but I always like watching me, apparently -- and let me see how well I was half closing my eyes in feigned ecstasy, flipping my hair just right, watching a slight sheen of sweat form on my breasts, getting them to bounce just right, and finally fake a spectacular orgasm. I all of a sudden missed Marion's tender touch, tough I obviously no longer liked women. ? Yes, I was a straight woman, and in love. I knew I had been a man a month earlier, and would have been repulsed by what I'd just done, but my wish made me perfectly happy in my new body. These are things I inadvertently wished for when I said I didn't want to be a member of the opposite sex. Duh. I was also highly egocentric, and ... not sure whether I loved Brad for how he looked or how rich he was. He did worship me, and I loved that to. But did I love him? Maybe I'm so shallow that I love a man if he has all the right ingredients. And Brad was very handsome, in a distinguished way. A little overweight, but still muscular. I thought that his body still wasn't worthy of my perfect one, but that's what keeps me secure in the relationship. ? But the spell screwed up, because I said I wanted to still be a parent to my kids. If I'm in my 20s, that's impossible. Then I remembered. I'm their stepmother -- technically a parent. Damn. And their biological mother, I remembered, was my ex-wife. Damn again. It seems I can never be rid of that harpy. One huge consolation is she is Brad's ex-wife now. So I stole him from her! YES! I got an almost orgasmic thrill from that. Power. I loved power, and it pretty much all came from my sexuality. My breasts made me influence men and women. They made a statement, especially how I displayed them. If they really popped out, I got maximum attention from men, though disdain from many women. Showed them just enough, and it was like the iron fist in the velvet glove -- I can use these when I need to. To punish, I can display and take away. When I cover them up and even wear a minimizer bra, I want your intellectual, not sexual, attention. I remembered that I had two drawers full of bras depending on how I wanted to use my assets. ? It turns out that I worked for Marion -- she was the head of the public relations firm that I used to run. That was totally cool, though Brad wasn't wild about me having a job. But I liked the work, and I was paid enough so I didn't have to beg him for money for all the spa treatments, massages, aroma therapies I loved. Wow, I was a total princess, and of course a trophy wife. ? The family was going on a vacation on St. John in a couple days, so I'd have a chance to be with my kids, which would be nice. In the meantime, it would be morning and sometimes evening sex, work with Marion, and pampering. Not so bad. Working with Marion was great, as usual. She was an even better boss than I was. I debated telling her about my transformations, but I couldn't bear to tell her we were lovers. The sex, well, as I said, it was kind of an autonomic response. Every once in a while I would suck Brad until he came in my mouth, and it slid down my throat like whipped cream. Nothing to it. I also had a secret vibrator which I used often, and I discovered with the right touch I could come again and again. I loved watching it disappear deep inside me, and pinching my super sensitive nipples hard just before orgasm. And given I was in love, sex with Brad was nice on some level. And the pampering was incredible. I mean, I had no idea how great a pedicure was! And I loved how my hair looked fresh from the salon. The stylists seemed surprised at first with how friendly I was with them, which showed that at least some of my original personality was showing through. Still, it was a constant battle not to spend my entire day thinking of mainly me, no matter how proud I was of myself. I always seemed to know how to use my assets to my own best advantage, whether it was helping to land a client for Marion, getting more from my husband, or even getting the parking attendant to park my car in a reserved spot. A little flash of breast, a dazzling smile, a toss of my hair, and I pretty much had any guy where I wanted them. That came in handy when Brad was on a business trip, and I ... well ... I just needed to get laid. I was at the club and one of the tennis instructors did me after a lesson. I was in a cute pink, pleated tennis skirt and white top, and he flipped it up, pulled down my lace panties, and did me from behind while we were standing. Of course there was a full length mirror there, so I got to myself up on my tip toes and moaning like a little whore. ? The problem, I found out to my consternation, was that even when I didn't want to use my sexuality, I had an effect on men. And boys. I couldn't turn it off. We met up with Jessica and Jacob at the airport, where their mother dropped them off. She was frosty to me, as I expected, and I just showed her my best: "How very nice to see you. I won" smile. That felt so good, it literally made me hot. When I went to give Jessica a hug, I noticed she was pretty rigid. I could see some resentment in her eyes, and I could hardly blame her. Her mother had been dumped by her father for a hottie like me. Jacob, on the other hand, gave me a lingering hug that at first puzzled me. It was only when there was some turbulence on takeoff and my breasts were bouncing uncontrollably, that I noticed he was staring at my breasts. This despite that they were covered in a modest summer dress. I don't mean a glance, I mean a constant, unashamed stare. I would have hoped that my own son would have had more class, but, he didn't. Now that I didn't feel all maternal about him, I judged him as a boorish and horny teenage boy. Where had I gone wrong? He didn't seem excited, though, just transfixed. That was odd. ? As bad and fundamentally icky as that was, I was totally unprepared for how hostile Jessica would be. Passive aggressive. Aggressive. Jealous. She said, "Oh Shelley, I love your bangs, they make you look younger." And: "Could you please not kiss my father in front of me. Have some sensitivity." Her boyfriend joined us the second day, and the looks she shot me after it was obvious he was admiring me would have killed. No matter how often I tried to just talk to her about even simple things, I was always rebuffed. ? Things came to a head five days later. I'd been wearing a fairly modest one-piece suit to keep her from totally hating me. It was fairly low cut, but it didn't show off my tiny waist or my round rear. But I felt Jessica was winning the war for Brad's attention, and I couldn't help myself, I loved him. I'd wished it, and it was undeniable. I loved his glance, his touch, and I even managed to have a couple real orgasms with him. But we didn't make love on vacation, because the kids were in the same suite. I knew sex was so important to our relationship, and I wanted to give him a taste of what he was missing. ? So I wore a totally hot bikini. String. Tiny. The bottom was almost a thong, and the top was the perfect shade of blue to set off my eyes. I even curled my hair before going to the beach, and put on some light makeup. And I snuck into Jessica's room and put on some of her perfume, just to piss her off. I know, I know. She's my daughter, but at that time I wasn't feeling at all a parent. She was the competition, and that was that. My Shelley personality had had enough, and was in full control. ? And I was total Shelley that day. Prancing, showing cleavage, delightful and sexy in every way. I bounced all over the beach, and once I let my top be pulled down by a wave. I could see the bulge in Brad's suit, and in Jessica's boyfriend's suit, which definitely made me happy. I didn't look at Jacob's suit, because that would have been just horrid in so many ways. I even made a point of sitting next to Jessica, so men could compare my d cups to her small c cups, and my thick blonde hair to her shorter and thinner -- though still pretty -- hair. She knew what was going on, but could just sit there and fume. In the back of my mind, some part of me was screaming, STOP EMBARRASSING HER. And another part of me thought how perverse it was to be in a sexuality contest with my own daughter. But she wasn't really my daughter now -- she was an enemy. So, I won that day, and it seemed Jessica was contrite. ? On the second to the last day of vacation I received quite a shock when I went back to get my purse and heard some action coming from the boys' room. Jessica's boyfriend, Calvin, had claimed he was sick and stayed behind when the rest of us were going snorkeling, and when I peeked through the window I saw he was doing a little diving of his own. He was going down on one maid while another was sitting, naked, in reserve. The stack of bills on the dresser told me immediately he'd merely bribed the poor, literally, girls, for sex. Now, he was a very attractive boy, 20 years old and from a good family, so he certainly didn't have to pay for it. He just wanted it. And then he was going to probably have sex with my daughter at their first opportunity, having done it with two native girls who had been goodness knows where. I banged on the door and he must have quickly wrapped a robe around himself, because he was at the door in a flash, and when he saw who it was, he went from surprise to smug indifference in about five seconds. The girls quickly exited, and I told him to pack his things and find himself another place to stay. ? But when we got back from snorkeling, he was still there. I pulled him aside and he showed what a real asshole he was. He said it was his word against mine, and given how Jessica felt about me, I'd be on the losing end. I just gritted my teeth and walked away. ? When we returned home, I confronted him in private, and he'd already had a list of demands. For $5,000 and sex -- a threesome, along with a male friend of his -- he'd dump Jessica and never see her again. I thought for a minute, and agreed. He grinned and slapped my rear on his way out, and after he was gone, I grinned too. He had no idea who he was dealing with. ? I arranged to meet the boys at the penthouse in the Hilton the following Thursday. I had on a pink basque that had garters that lead to pink stockings. Pink panties and a pink scrunchy in my freshly curled hair made me look like a boys wet dream. I had just stacked $5,000 in $50 bills neatly on the dresser when I heard a knock at the door. They didn't even glance at the money when they walked in, but just stared a little, stunned at how ready I looked. Calvin's friend, Paul, was in even better shape than he was -- One of those blonde muscle guys who look good on surf boards. That contrasted sharply with Calvin's?dark good looks. As for who had the best washboard abs, it was a toss up. I immediately took control of the situation, because as these boys didn't understand, it was all about control that evening. Sitting on the bed and demurely crossing my legs, I asked them both to strip, and to come over to me. It was a race, which Paul won. I ran my fingers through the back of his long hair and pulled him down to my left breast, which he eagerly started to kiss, sinking to his knees. ? "Suck it. I love when they're sucked," I cooed in his ear. I wasn't lying. ? Then Calvin came over and I pulled him down to my other breast. This was going to be easier than I thought. I looked down at them both, cheek to cheek -- probably the closest they'd ever come to each other -- happily sucking on my nipples. It did feel pretty nice, especially from two such hunks, but I had to concentrate. Then I asked them to stand, and was astounded at how big they both were. That didn't enter into my plans, but I had to work with what I'd been given. I started stroking both their shafts at once, pulling them closer and closer together. I actually banged their heads against each other several times, and was pleased to notice that neither of them flinched. Then I alternated sucking and stroking, until I could taste precum on both their pretty cocks. ? Now came the tricky part. ? "I love to be licked, would one of you boys do that for me?" I looked up at them with my sexiest gaze, and neither of them noticed I'd again called them boys again, further putting me in the superior position, and that I'd pitted them against each other. Calvin was the first to volunteer, and I had him lay down on the bed, while I straddled his face, facing toward his body. Then I had Paul straddle him, so he could kiss me and kiss my breasts. Oh my, but for a young guy, Calvin knew what he was doing. He swirled the tip of his tongue around my clit, and then stuck his tongue up so I could impale myself on it, and work myself up and down on it. I couldn't help it, but I came. I'm only human, and it had been a long time since I'd been with such hard bodies. My memories told me I was quite slut in college. ? I didn't let that slow me down, though. I then reached between Paul's legs, and started stroking Calvin's cock, using some lube I had in the bed stand. Then started sucking Paul's cock, while Calvin still licked me. Through my stroking and sucking, I positioned Calvin's cock right at Paul's back door, and then started pushing Paul gradually back, so that Calvin's cock started pressing against his little cherry. I could feel Paul's whole body tense and pull away, but I then I started moaning in frustration, and they quickly realized that I liked the idea of them pressing together. ? "That makes me soooo hot!" I squealed, and by that point, they pretty much would do whatever I wanted. The hotter I got, the more I pleasured them. I kept pushing and pushing until I felt Calvin's cock break into Paul's ass, and then I just worked him back further until he was completely impaled on his friends rod. I was amazed, frankly, because it was so big and I assumed it was pushing into a virgin ass. ? "Oh yes, oh yes, oh YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS," I panted, and then gradually got off, pretending to be transfixed by the site of their first gay experience. ? "Come in him, come in him!" I practically screamed, while I told Paul to jerk himself off so that he came all over Calvin's face. They didn't come at exactly the same time -- no plan works out perfectly, but it was close enough. I exited into the next room, locked the door, and heard my two hired assistants explain to the boys that their session was all on tape, and that if they ever approached Jessica again, I would make the tape available to all their friends, to the Internet, etc. The $5,000 went to my assistants, and that solved that problem. What I couldn't anticipate was the next problem I would have to solve. After coming home from the hotel I heard someone stirring in my room. Knowing that my husband was working late and Jessica was at school, I crept to the door slowly and peeked in. Then it was like lightning struck my brain. Jacob was standing in front of my vanity, admiring himself in one of my matching sets of bra, garter belts and panties. My first thought was, hey, the garters go inside the panties. I saw that he had filled out my bra with breast forms. It was a demi-bra, so I could see they were silicon and high quality. This obviously wasn't a spur-of-the-moment thing. I almost walked in, but there was something about the way he was modeling for himself that made me stay put and watch. He very carefully rolled up a pair of white stockings and fastened them expertly to the clips. Then he sat down and applied makeup. Perfectly. Foundation, blush, eyeliner, lip liner, lip gloss, mascara, eye shadow. The perfume. He looked very pretty, actually, and I might have mistaken him for his sister in a quick glance. We all have fair complexions, so my makeup looked right on him. I mean, if he were a girl. Next came a blonde wig. Just a simple shoulder length one with bangs. Next he started trying on my dresses, being careful to put each one away carefully after he modeled it. The one I liked best on him he put away, and he stuck with a tight fitting white mini dress with small blue polka dots. And then he accessorized, with a couple of my rings and a gold bracelet. To complete the outfit, he put on a pair of white pumps -- not mine, because while he was a slender boy, his feet were definitely bigger than mine. I honestly expected him to jack off or something at this point, but he curled up in a chair with a couple copies of Cosmopolitan, and leisurely paged through them. Then it all fell into place: The way he watched me and didn't seem to get turned on, how he was a cute boy but didn't date, and a dozen other little signals pointed to just one thing. He wanted to be a girl. If that wasn't the height of irony. He had what had been forced upon me. I slowly walked into the room and when he looked up three emotions flashed across his pretty face in quick succession: Surprise, fear and horror. I rushed over to him and held him in a long embrace, even though it left big lipstick smudges on my silk blouse. He collapsed in sobs (which ran his mascara, which messed up my blouse even more) and kept saying "I'm sorry Shelley" over and over again. It broke my heart. We had our first heart to heart that night -- well, first since I became Shelley -- and I learned that my poor baby was a tortured soul. He said he has always felt like a girl inside, but he knew he could never tell his father or mother. He certainly had that right. I may love my husband (something I wished on myself, I know), but he was a bit of a Neanderthal. Maybe more than a bit. And a transgendered son would never play well at his mother's bridge club. I tried my best to help Jacob. We went shopping for more age appropriate outfits, I helped him shave his legs for the first time, and I even took him out to lunch as my younger sister. No one would have known he was a boy, he looked that cute. And given his romantic interests obviously only were with boys -- he even had a crush on Jessica's horrid ex-boyfriend -- I undressed in front of him and shared all my girl secrets with him. But after a couple weeks of this, I realize none of this would solve his problem. When his time as "Emily" was over, he would get terribly sad. I was beside myself, so I finally turned to the person I trusted most when making life decisions: Marion. This time it took a lot of convincing to tell her about the box and the changes I'd made, but she finally believed me and did further research on the box. It turned out that every time the box was used, one of the opals in the lid would turn from pink to black, and now there was only one left. We put a cute Tinkerbell ring in it, and had Jacob read a very long, very detailed description of his perfect mate, and he put on the ring. Then we both went to bed, and I crossed my fingers and prayed it would work. I knew it meant I would be a woman forever, but I adored who I was. The next morning, at precisely 2:21 a.m., I was awoken by the sound of a baby crying. I instantly felt the milk start flowing in my breasts, and rushed to the nursery. There lay baby Emily, formerly my son Jacob, waiting to be fed and changed. The wish had worked, thank goodness. Jacob had wished for his perfect mate to be a mother exactly like me, and as far as I could tell, nothing else had changed. Apparently once you used the box, you were aware of changes made by someone else in your life who also used the box -- that's what Marion had told me. I realized that even though I was pretty much a stuck-up princess, being a mother also had a big influence on me. Yes, my breasts were not going to be as perfect after breast feeding -- and they are extremely huge and sore now, and my back is killing me. I noticed I was wearing a dd nursing bra, and it barely fit. Yes I would no longer be the center of attention. But that was okay. The first morning that I sat in a glide rocker and nursed my little girl, I thought that my life was now my more fulfilled. I knew she would grow up to be a beautiful young woman like my step daughter Jessica, and she would never even realize she was once a boy. I imagined her going to the prom with a nice boy, getting married, and giving me grandkids one day. And speaking of fulfilled, the morning feedings also wake up someone else in the house, who insists I tend to his needs too. After putting Emily back to bed I go back to bed myself, and take my position on my belly, squishing my breasts to the sheets, with my now very plump ass up in the air. My husband has agreed to doggie style for now, because I'm oh so tired from being a mommy. Of course, I love him and want to keep him satisfied, though he only gets seconds when it comes to breast feeding. Lol. He's so happy with his little Emily, he wants to have another baby as soon as I'm ready. Someday, maybe, but for now I just want to enjoy motherhood and get my body back to its sexiest. Then I'll have the best of both worlds. Can't wait to tell Marion ...