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Be Like Me by Vickie Tern You saw Maury in the Supermarket the other day? You're sure? Yes, that would be him all right, he loves that pink flowered skirt with the tight pink knit top. Especially now that he's lost all that weight and wants to show off his figure. Oh, yes, I think so too, they are cute, and he really is pleased with them, he can't keep his hands off them, sometimes not even in public. He really disgraced himself last week when we were at a concert and he absent-mindedly ... well, never mind, I suppose it's just he's still getting used to them, that's all. Same as I'm getting used to him being how he is these days! It's nice that he appreciates himself. Oh, he does, no question! No no, not at all, I do too, more than ever, I think he's way better off now Eva, and I just love him to pieces. He's my precious darling doll and he tries so hard to please me and of course I want him to be happy in this new life of his, and I do believe he is. I'm sure he is! Or she is. Whatever. Because so many guys think he's a girl named Mary, and most of them don't have a clue he's anything else. He doesn't either. But I can't forget that he's really my husband Maury, and I don't want to forget it, because then I can appreciate all the more how hard he tries to be Mary, and how well he succeeds at it! So I can love him all the more. My sweet Maury -- he really is marvelous, Eva! No, that's no problem at all, he doesn't mind at all when I go out with other men, not any more. Well, he did at first, a little, but now he figures his time will come. As it always does. Sometimes we even double date, and he has such a good time with his guy that he can't possibly complain about the things he sees me doing with my guy. Eva, you should have seen his face the first time he woke up and realized what he'd done the night before! I tell you? He kept crying out "I'm not a man any more!" over and over, and raising his fists to the skies. I thought he was in despair, but then I realized he wasn't despairing, he was happy! It was a kind of success! Like your first time, Eva! Remember? You came back to the dorm one morning and told us how you'd spent half the night sucking this guy's cock so it wouldn't stiffen or squirt any more, and then when you were sure your virtue was safe you cuddled up naked with him? And the next thing you knew he'd gotten it up one more time anyhow and pushed it into you and begun to slide in and out and you weren't a virgin any more? How it felt so wonderful? Well, that's how my Maury felt when he lost his virginity! He couldn't stop talking about it all the next day. Of course there's a first time for everyone, I was just glad that his was a good one so he could look forward to all the others in his future. O yes. There've been others since then, lots of them. Is there such a thing as too much of a good thing? Well, no, Eva, not exactly, it's a best-kept secret, but the poor dear still doesn't have a functioning vagina. Not yet anyhow. Even so, his rear end these days is as loose and open and accessible as any pussy. And as well-used as any, I must say. I never hear his men complain -- it sometimes seems they're lined up around the block waiting for a chance to take him out and show him a good time and then let him do the same for them. Oh, yes, he's certainly learned that much -- you should see how he teases and flirts to attract guys yet hold them off -- he's ... well, I hate to say it, but sometimes no question, there's no other word for it, he can be a real cunt. But somehow they love him for it all the more. No, I don't have anything on for tomorrow, what do you have in mind? Dinner with you and Craig? Sure, delighted, is this a special occasion or something? Craig's out-of-town brother, you think I'd enjoy meeting him now that I'm sort of no longer married, at least not to a man? Well, I'd love to, but Eva, listen, I'd really appreciate it if you'd also invite Maury. He wouldn't interfere with anything that might develop later between me and Craig's brother -- we have our understandings. And it shouldn't be too hard to find him a suitable date. I'll tell you frankly Eva, I don't like going out and leaving him alone for a whole evening. Well, two reasons mainly. The first is that I don't trust him by himself -- he can be as promiscuous as any slut you've ever known now that he knows how good it can be, sex with men I mean. Only a month or so ago I dated Cameron, you remember him, Tricia's ex, he's a lawyer or something, just dinner and a movie and then an hour or so at his place to pass the time, an ordinary weekday date, you know? And when I got home, here was Maury fucking three different guys. No, literally, all three at once, with his mouth, his ass, and also between his breasts. Shameless? It was jealousy, maybe also envy. Because he doesn't like it when I'm getting laid and he isn't, that's what I think. So I'd rather be sure he has company when I'm out, or else that he comes with me. There's another reason too -- I like to keep him distracted. Because I never know, there's a chance, you know, what if when he's completely alone he should wake up and realize what's happened to him this past year -- my goodness, it has been a year now, hasn't it -- and I'm not there to reassure him that its all right, not to concern his pretty head, it's all to the good, and so on. Then immediately play him the follow-up CD they sent me -- the one that never fails to put him back to sleep with a beautiful smile on his face. He loves hearing about girly things, the ones he's done and the ones he has yet to do. Well, no, that CD conditioned him in ways they never intended. Or maybe it's that he's conditioned himself and doesn't even realize it. They tell me if he wakes up unassisted it could be traumatic. I mean, how would you feel, Eva, if you suddenly woke up and realized you're wearing women's clothes and make-up, and you have tits, and at this very moment a man is humping your butt. Well, all right, I know, you do sometimes wake up that way, but you're a woman and Craig is Craig. But Maury isn't Maury, not any more! It could happen. I just want to be with him when it does happen, if it does, that's all. So it's OK to bring Maury? Perfect! You'll even fix him up with his own dinner partner, with Matt Reilly? To keep him busy later on when I'm getting better acquainted with your brother-in-law? That's sweet of you, Eva, I do appreciate it. I know Matt's bi and won't mind being paired with a ... a former man, but ... but, well, Eva, isn't Matt a little ... well, big? No, I don't mean physically -- well, I guess I do mean physically, but ... you know, that part of him, isn't it rather ... big? I heard that the real reason his wife left him was because -- she told this to a friend and then another friend heard it and told me, so this isn't gospel mind you -- but I heard the reason for their separation and divorce was she couldn't take it any more, that fucking Matt was like fucking a football, that what he had down there could tear a girl wide open. That Matt had stretched out her cunt so badly that she couldn't feel any of her boyfriends any more when they put their things into her, especially after they'd cum in her and made her super slippery. That that was why she divorced him, she'd had enough of monster cocks. Oh? No, I hadn't heard that. Are you sure? The big penis in that story wasn't Matt's, it was the guy's she lived with after she left Matt, he's the one who stretched out her pussy and ruined it for all her other men? She left Matt for the opposite reason, because he was too little? Not too big? Are you sure, Eva? Well, you should know, I do remember how you and Matt had that little fling when Craig was out of town and ... yes, you did tell me at that time it was disappointing, but you never told me why. Because it felt like a pinprick. Oh, I get it, very funny, Eva! Well, OK then, sure, my honey can handle Matt in that case, no problem, he's more comfortable with smaller guys anyhow. Eventually he will get one, I suspect, but for now only his mouth or his rear are available. Either one, he enjoys both. If Matt tries his rear I assure you, he will not be disappointed, he'll get the ride of his life, Maury goes quite wild when there's a cock in him back there. I trained him up on successive sizes of dildos, and maybe it seems unbeliveable but he told me not long ago that one of his boyfriends managed to fist him, to push his whole hand in past his wrist. No, he can't move when he's impaled like that -- he stays absolutely still, but in an ecstasy, he says, he's having climax after climax. No, he doesn't squirt any more, but when he's really excited his cock drools cum like an open faucet. They'll get on, Maury and Matt. They'll get off too, I can't doubt it. Perfect, we'll both come by around 6:00 pm then. Wearing what? I understand. Ok, our highest heels and shortest skirts and hot to trot! You know, Eva, it's funny you should ask that. I was thinking about it only this morning. No, Maury isn't in any way the man I married, not any more -- he's better than that! I don't regret it, it's all to the good, our life together is far more satisfying than before. But you're wrong, I never really intended any of it. Not at first, anyhow. I mean, I was reared up to be a proper girl, and I was one, too, very proper, at least the first few years we were married. No, why should I lie, I really didn't anticipate anything like this. I mean, what did I know back then? Sure he was a disappointment. A big one. He was lazy and inconsiderate and a boor. Yes, as a husband but also as a lover. All I wanted for a few years for was for him to show some improvement, any at all, nothing very radical. To be just a little more orderly with his things, a little neater, a little bit less of a slob, you know? Maybe help out around the house now and then, you know? At the very least to pick up his socks in the morning! That's all. I mean, we both work, we both have jobs, yet Maury would come home every night and sit and watch the tube and expect me to do everything else. I'd have to pick up after him and take care of the house and make him his dinner and clean up afterward, and he never once lifted a finger to help! Didn't even offer! And sex with Maury was wham, bam, and not even a thank you afterward. Yes, I know, their mothers raise them up that way -- they coddle them and don't even ask them to carry their own plate from the table to the sink! I knew that when I married him! So I never blamed him, I never thought it was Maury's fault that he did nothing, zip, nada, around the house, that I had to do everything or it didn't get done. I don't blame him, I never have. But you can understand why, when I saw that ad for a self-help behavior modification CD, that "Be More Like Me" reprogramming program for husbands, why I couldn't wait, why I sent for it as fast as I could, sight unseen. If anyone wanted to retrain a husband, I did! When it came and I read the instructions, it seemed perfect. No, it wasn't just an inspirational lecture, we'd tried those, or I'd tried them on Maury anyhow -- he never listened. It was an actual hypnotic session, "deep hypnosis" they claimed, whatever that is, supposedly absolutely spellbinding on any man who listened to it! No effect on women at all, they have another reprogramming CD for us, this one was strictly for men. I know, I should have hidden the CD until I was ready to use it on him, but you can't think of everything. How the program works is, the first person he sees when the hypnotic part's done its work, the first voice he hears, the first words he encounters, those all become the "Be More Like Me" he will want to be more like. It's that simple. "When I finish talking, you will want to be whatever that person is, and do whatever that person says," that's the final message the CD repeats over and over. If it works, that's what he'll do. Like, I tell him to pick up his socks, he does that forever after. Because he just can't help it, he'll want to. My idea was, I'd play it and let it hypnotize him, then immediately afterward I'd tell him what I want him to do, and then tell him to go ahead and do it. No questions asked, he'd clear the dishes, help out with making the beds, you know. Do a laundry now and then, I figured it wouldn't kill him to learn how to fold sheets. Become more of a model husband. That could make up for lots of deficiencies. It's funny how it went wrong. No, it really was an accident, Eva, I swear I would never have done that to him deliberately. Though I must say, I did see the advantages almost right away, and I did decide to follow out those advantages instead of trying to reverse what happened and return to my original plan. And frankly, I don't know that we're any worse off for it. I'd say we're better off, all in all. A lot. Though we're a lot different from what we were, that's for sure! I didn't expect much from it, so when the CD came in and I just stowed it with our other CDs -- I was saving it for the weekend so I could get the maximum advantage when I played it for him, maybe one thorough housecleaning before the effect wore off, and maybe one meal cooked by him and not me. Well, on Friday night I was delayed at work, and then when I got home there was Maury sitting in the living room as comfy as you please, same as always, reading the afternoon paper the same as always. But with no shirt on. That wasn't the odd part, though, Eva. The odd part was -- I couldn't believe it at first -- he was wearing a bra! That's right, a bra, one of my new ones, an underwire I bought at last fall's Bali two-for-one sale. I was saving it for when the other one got stretched out. He must have gone looking for a bra in my drawer and found that one. You'd be surprised, Eva, it fit him just fine! Well not the cups of course, not then. Then I noticed another surprise. No pants. Instead, a pair of my panties, the very same nylon and spandex satin panties they were featuring in different colors last week at Sudbury's, did you see the ad? Half-price? A little small for him, but they held his manly parts in so tight between his legs that he didn't seem to have any at all. It was sort of cute, I remember thinking, as if my sweetie was a real girl. My tummy gave such a delicious little lurch when I saw that, you know the feeling? It was nice. Maybe that's why I accepted all the rest of it so easily. How did it happen? That came clear pretty quickly. I asked him very quietly how come he was dressed like that and he said, "I had to, honey, she told me I'd love it, that I'd feel pampered if I wore these things and I'd never want to wear anything else. So I went to find some of yours, and you know what? She was right! I want to be more like her in other ways too, but I don't know how! Will you help me?" That's what he said. Baffling? "She?" I asked him. "What 'she'? Who's this 'she' who's telling you these things?" "The girl in the sales catalog you left over there by the CD player," he says. So I go over to see what in the world and sure enough, there's my Playtex bra catalogue lying open the way I left it this morning, right alongside the CD player. And there's the "Be More Like Me" CD in the player. I hadn't even taken it out of its wrapper, but I suppose he did. I suppose he saw we had a new recording of something and he put it in the player to see what it was. And then when it was done and he came over to change the recording, he saw this full page photo of a girl in her bra and panties smiling out at him from a wide-open underwear catalogue. What she's saying is "Time for a new bra? You always want to look as pretty as you can! You'll love this one! Lace lavished! Try it just once and you'll never want to wear any other." It's a pretty enough bra, only $17.95, and I did eventually buy that very bra, one for each of us -- and I must say, it really is comfortable. Maury was so delighted he went out and bought two more just for himself. "I never want to wear any other," he told me. "Just this one." It was easy to figure what happened. Maury got home and settled in to relax, and he found this new CD and decided to try it out, and he listened and became entranced, all set to do whatever he was told to do. But no one told him anything. So he got up to change the disk and he saw the girl in the brassiere ad, and she told him that what he wanted more than anything else was to be like her and do what she says. And wear whatever she's wearing. Which was very little. I felt cheated, and thought he was ribbing me. "Did she tell you to pick up your socks?" I ask him. I didn't quite believe him. "She did tell me to select my pantyhose carefully from six glamorous shades, and always to take proper care of them, yes" he answered. "She doesn't wear socks, but further along in that catalogue there's a picture of her in her pantyhose, and that's what she says there. So I wanted to wear pantyhose too, in all six shades. But I don't know how to put them on -- I tried on a pair of yours and they tore before they got past my ankles." I flipped over to that part of the catalogue and sure enough, there's that same model, this time wearing pantyhose and still smiling out at us. Her eyes seemed this time to be challenging and evaluating whoever was looking at her, as if daring them. I could see how a man might be piqued into trying anything she recommended. I had a different reaction to her though. My God, I was thinking, look at those terrific boobs and that perfect rounded tush -- most women would kill to look like that! And Maury thinks he can be like her? He's taken on an incredible challenge! "Maury, this is a woman!" I tell him. "You're a man! You can't be like her!" "Yes I can," he says. "I really and truly want to be like her! Will you help me? I don't know anything about any of these things." All at once I saw what I could do. I still figured that this trance would wear off soon, but meanwhile I could get some promises out of him, some changes in his behavior around the house. "Ok," I told him. "But if you're going to resemble a woman then you have to take on all of the customary obligations of women. Become a proper housewife, for openers, and pick up after yourself, maybe even after me too. Help me cook and clean and so on. Same as I've done for you. So from now on we're partners in those things." "Whatever you do, I'll do," he said. "And whatever I say you'll do too," I tell him. "Because I've been doing this a lot longer than you have. I have a pretty fair idea how that bra and pantyhose model spends her time when she isn't being photographed in her bras and pantyhose, and maybe I can help you do the same things. But if you want to be like her, you have to be obedient to me." He just stared wide eyed at me. "I'll do whatever you say," he said finally. "I do want to look as pretty as I can." "Help me get supper ready," I said. "And we'll talk. I think you'll enjoy doing that." "I'd love to, Mandy," he said. "I truly would." He was trying to sound like girls he'd known. "Can you say that even more fetchingly?" I asked him. "In a higher voice, sweetly, and compliantly, but with an implication that whatever you give, you expect to get something back in return!" If he was going to try to live with me as my partner, the last thing I wanted for a partner was a mindless bimbo. I wanted an equal. "You show me how today and I'll help," he said. "Then tomorrow I'll take charge of fixing supper and you'll help." That sounded about right. I nodded. "But can I borrow one of your blouses?" he asked. "I feel a little chilly walking around in just my bra." So it was his bra now. "Your shirts won't serve?" "They're mens' shirts!" "Of course," I tell him. I'm getting what I want, so he should have what he wants. "Well then, sweetheart, look in my closet and pick out whatever blouse you most like and that one is yours from now on." We were on a roll, and I wasn't going to slow the momentum for anything! "I also want to keep that picture of the girl who first told me to be like her. So I can look at her now and then and see if she approves. Or is telling me to do anything else." I just looked at him. He'll take orders from a brassiere ad? But then, what else was he doing even now? "I know it sounds strange," he said. "But I find it comforting when I look into her eyes and she looks into mine. The closer I resemble her, the more she seems to approve of me. I want her approval. That's all. I find it reassuring." "Then of course, honey," I reply. And inspired, I add, "In fact I want you to sit quietly in front of her image each morning before you go to work and each evening before we both go to sleep, and look at her, and reflect on your day, and commune with her, and consider whether there are additional things she wants you to do. Then you'll tell me what they are and I'll help you to do them." I wanted him to be happy of course, but I was already aware that his transformation could well be to my advantage too. I wanted to go with it and see for myself. Eva, I read around a little afterward about how hypnosis or autosuggestion works, and I'm sure he was taking orders from the bra ad mainly because he wanted to. What was really giving him orders was his own natural desires, the traits we all have that we all tend to think of as feminine and encourage in women and discourage in men. The CD reprogramming woke up in him a desire to express and possess and submit to those traits, not suppress them. That's all. Could I object to that? If he found it easier to think he was pleasing an image in a magazine, something outside himself, a bra model, because that's how the hypnotism instructed him, then how could I discourage that? A lot of fears and desires and needs and so on come from inside us and then justify themselves by fixing on things outside us. I don't know. But even apart from him helping take care of the house and cleaning up his own messes I was beginning to see certain advantages. "You want to be a girl," I said in so many words. "Yes," was all he replied. After that there was no doubt in my mind or his. The next morning the girl in the bra ad told him that his bra didn't fit him properly because the cups were empty. He asked me how he could fill them. Well, I told him he'd need to take lots of female hormones if he wanted to fill a bra, and I figured that would be the end of it. He immediately asked me if I'd lend him a week's supply of birth control pills to tide him over until he could get his own supply. Eva, how could I not? It was a powerful desire, practically like a compulsion, that's how he described it when we talked some more about it. He needed help, the poor dear! So of course I gave him what he needed, and he took two pills right off, and it was marvelous to watch his face relax and begin to look almost serene. Later the same day he went onto the Internet and the next thing I knew he'd gotten himself some big bottles of pills from Canada and was gobbling them like candy. Well, I had to take him to my endo to get his doses regulated, I mean, who knows what would have happened otherwise? As it was, his nipples budded into bumps almost right away, and his boobs grew so fast he filled his bra after only maybe another month, and we had to go out to get him a few more! I kid you not, he's bigger than I am now! And I told you already, he loves them, he can't keep his hands off them! The rest of his body changed too. His face softened, and his rear end began to swell up. When his ass got too big for his drawers or his pants we got him panties and slacks that were cut for women, and also a few skirts, he liked the freedom his legs felt when he was wearing skirts. He couldn't have been more pleased. They felt just right he said. The same for his blouses once his boobs began jutting way out. Everything else just seemed to follow. Some things were my idea -- that he should commit to being a girl and wear wigs until his hair grew long enough to be styled properly. That he should lose forty pounds right off so he could look as attractive as that model, his ideal woman. His body became a soft framework of creamy smooth skin with outcropping curves in all the places a girl should curve. I have to confess it, Eva, maybe I'm a little bit bi myself, but the more his body began to resemble a girl's, the more turned on I felt by it. And I wasn't the only one! I admit it, I encouraged him to flirt with guys and see what happens. I was starting to, and I saw no reason he shouldn't. Some things were his own idea, like using make-up all the time as his face softened and he found that blinking big dark eyes at people got him nearly whatever he wanted from them. I didn't object because by then he was using makeup simply to look decent when he went out. Because by then he was a girl as far as anyone could tell. The girl in the bra told him to shave off all the hair below his eyebrows immediately -- he did. And to pluck away half the hair of the lower part of his eyebrows, to shape them so they'd look more delicate. There I was able to help him. I must say, to his credit he went back to the office after only a week away and quietly told his entire work group, four men and five women, that he had begun a slow transition to womanhood and would be looking a bit more feminine each day from then on -- that it wouldn't affect his work and that they weren't to mind it or even indicate that they were noticing. They were impressed by his candor and so was I. He reported that the girl in the bra shared our admiration for his frankness and his courage both. So we were all of us pleased with him, and so was he. That's how it began, Eva. He did most of the rest himself. After two months he'd filled out his bras and his buttocks nicely, and few people on the street ever gave him a second glance -- he looked like one more woman going about her business, no more nor less. When I told him some weeks later still that I intended to date one of the men in my office, that I loved him and never wanted to leave him, but that now and then I wanted to enjoy "male companionship," he didn't seem to feel at all hurt, as I'd feared he might be. He only nodded. The very next night I went out with Carl, a graphic artist in my work group, and when at last Carl's cock entered and filled up my pussy, it was the first cock I'd felt in there for months, I couldn't help it, I cried. I thanked God, and I told Carl I wanted him to pound my ass into jelly. And oh, God, did he ever! I always worried about leaving Maury alone, of course, so when Carl came to pick me up I suggested he call up one of his friends and do something with them. When I got back early the next morning I found that after I left the house Maury had gone to a gay bar where one of the men in his own work group often spent time after hours. They found things to do with each other, and he arrived home only shortly before I did. It was rather fun to discover, when we stripped the bed a few days later to change the sheets, that when each of us came home that night for a few remaining hours of sleep, we'd each of us leaked semen from our respective lower openings onto the sheets, each on our own respective sides of the bed. We stared together at the two stiff, dried, faintly yellow blotches just a little bit apart from each other, then we stared at each other, and then we burst into laughter and hugged and couldn't stop laughing or hugging for who knows how long! Each time one of us thought of it he resumed giggling, and that set off the other. I don't think we ever felt closer. After that night we each of us felt free to fuck whoever we chose, even to bring them home and make out in the living room or the spare bedroom. But we always returned to each other before daybreak and finished the night in each other's arms. We do love each other, Eva. It's that simple. We're two girls who live together and share everything together and can't do enough for each other. Oh, Eva, I forgot, you haven't seen him for months, have you? Well, you won't recognize him, he's really is all girl. He wanted and he got all the other little things done -- the tracheal shave and vocal cord tightening and the nose bob and the jaw reduction and the wide-set cheekbones, and just a little lip plumping, all the little touches that make his face so cute that I love looking at it almost as much as he loves making it up each morning for work and a few times each week for play. No one who didn't know would dream he was ever a man. He's 'Mary' now to everybody we know -- do be sure to call him that when we come over, Eva. But he's still Maury to me. Always. I don't ever want to forget that the man I married still lives inside the adorable girl I live with now. Not the least because every month or so Maury starts to reappear behind that cute face. His eyes get a little bewildered and he looks strangely at me, and puzzled, and a little frightened, especially when he looks into the mirror. When that happens I sit him right down and play his refresher CD for him and then gently explain what the girl in the bra ad wants him to do. She wants him to be like her. Which means like me. Really, by now, like himself at his most feminine. Then before he has a chance to wonder what that may mean I call in our next door neighbor Steve, a really big guy whose wife never gives him oral sex so they don't mind as long as Maury gives him nothing but. Maury and Steve bed down and Maury goes to sleep sucking on his cock as if it were the nipple of a baby bottle, now and then swallowing the milk that comes out of it. Listening to the refresher CD and thinking girly thoughts. Then by morning she's fine, bright and feminine as ever. Even I have to grant that mornings after her occasional CD refreshers she's all Mary and nothing but, a delightful girl in every respect but one and likely to remain that way for another month or so. She's Mary again, even though she's still Maury to me. He is I mean. So, six o'clock tomorrow, then, Eva? Wonderful, we're looking forward to it! Oh yes, I've been meaning to ask you, this isn't a personal question exactly, but do you ever give Craig head? No? Not since that boy you sucked out and then cuddled slipped it into you, and you discovered fucking? Well, I know Mary would be pleased to get to know a clean cock like Craig's, Maury would be I mean, and Steve isn't always available, and I do want Maury to rededicate himself to being Mary much more often. I want to eliminate any chance of him ever waking up to find out what that girl in the bra ad did to him, so I want to play that refresher CD for him every couple of weeks, followed by a nice cock to suck. He's very good, Eva, I'm sure that after tomorrow Matt will testify to that. His mouth is as eager as his ass -- that's what everyone says and that's what I've seen. Do you think Craig would enjoy it now and then? I don't see why not, Eva. Of course I'll lend you the CD. The original conditioning CD and the refresher CD for later if you like how Craig turns out and want to keep him that way. Just one thought though ... it's just that ... Eva, I think you should be very careful never to play the conditioning CD while Maury is actually sucking on Craig's cock and they're both listening. I can't imagine what would happen then. Would they want to be each other? If so which one, and which other? Who knows? On the other hand, you know something, Eva? It might be amusing to find out. Maybe they'd like being each other? Let's talk again soon. (c) 2008 by Vickie Tern