Dreaming free porn video

Dreaming by Vickie Tern Oh, God, it felt so good! "Push that thing in deeper!" I seemed to cry out. "Deeper! All the way into me!" Again the same dream, sort of. The fourth or fifth night in a row. Again I'm in bed with a gorgeous hunk of man who's pressing his groin against me from behind, his firm stomach slapping repeatedly against my soft, round buttocks as his thick meat slides into me and bottoms out deep inside, stretching my hole repeatedly, and I roll my ass on it blissfully to make full use of its feel. His hand clutches one of my breasts and presses it close, its fingers tweaking my fat nipple, and the other grips my clit, squeezing it repeatedly. I tense up and enter ecstasy for the third time this session, rigid with unspeakably intense pleasure, and then at last I feel him respond by pulsing far down within me. Filling me with man-juice. So utterly satisfying! Suddenly I'm no longer merely moist but slick and slippery, my insides lubricated by his cum! Drenched! I nearly faint with the joy of it as his softening flesh slips out of me! "Oh, God!" I cry out as I realize that my own cum is spewing all over the bed sheets, not in my dream but for real, and I wake up just enough to realize it isn't a man on top of me but Laura, my wife Laura, still clutching my breasts, both of them -- my slack pectoral muscles really, barely anything there, but it did seem as if they were breasts. She was caressing their nipple tips with her fingertips, and it was divine! I was rotating my ass against her smooth belly, not some man's. The strap-on dildo she'd shoved into my butt had just somehow discharged a warm, viscous goop that filled me to overflowing. "Oh, God!" I heard myself say aloud in a high voice, as if I were a real girl. "I do love this! I do!" I felt rapturous. I wriggled once more on the dildo. "You see?" she whispered into my ear. "You do love it. Like me. Like any woman, you crave it! I've so wanted you to know first hand how women feel! Why we love it! You have no idea how satisfying this is! How exciting. So no more talk, sweetheart, tonight it all becomes real! After tonight, I promise you, you'll never look back! After tonight we'll live together in an altogether new way, much closer, forever and ever!" I lay there in the afterglow, accepting as a fact that I'd just been fucked as if by a man, in my imagination anyhow, and that this time I'd felt no repugnance whatever. Only desire and gratitude as his cock had slid into me and filled me, completed me, and I'd moved my rear around on it, helpless, pinioned by its mass, feeling its heat, reaching for and exulting in its thickness. Exulting in my own femininity. Knowing it was Laura the whole time? No, to be honest, this time I'd genuinely thought I was a woman with a man. Not Cary playing at being Carol, the way I'd been Carol for months now. Not a self-conscious cooperative husband pretending to be Carol, to please her and increasingly if inexplicably to satisfy himself, but actually Laura's dearest companion and house mate, her girlfriend Carol, the real thing. And Laura hadn't been Laura pretending to be a man this time. She'd seemed an actual man fucking me, making me feel like a real woman and glad of it. In my half-dream, anyhow. "Whatever you did this time," I told Laura. "It felt the way you've been telling me it should feel. Not perverse, like our first time. Not servicing some weird desire you'd come up with. Not deliberately violating or humiliating my manhood, my masculine self. This time it seemed more ... more of a delicious opportunity. A privilege. I loved it! I was a woman, and that thing in me felt like my due, and I absolutely loved it. I was grateful the whole time! It felt so good! So very good!" She was still on top of me, looking down at me from under her heavy lashes, a slight smile on her lips. "Oh, that's so lovely!" she replied. She seemed almost exulting. "I've so wanted to share that feeling with you! So you'd know what it's like! Why I love it so much and always want more! Now you too! Sweetheart, you're ready. At last! At last, from now on we'll both get enough of what we want. It's time!" She'd never gotten enough before? Of lovemaking? We made love often! That last puzzled me. She sensed it and clutched again at my chest -- my pectorals, though for months now she'd been calling them my breasts -- holding one in each hand, molding the skin over and over. "Hold still, sweetheart. I'll be gentle." Then she slowly withdrew her huge fake cock from inside me and let it rest against my crack, its tip just barely prying my ass cheeks apart. Gently. It was warm and wet. She kissed my shoulder. "Can you still feel my stiff penis, Carol?" she asked. I nodded. "Don't resist," she advised me quietly. "Yield into it. You'll make me so happy!" As she said that I felt an urge to press back against it and take it back into myself and slide my slippery ass up and down around it again. Slip it back into my ass and fuck it some more! Frenziedly! I resisted. I'm not that kind of girl! I'm not even a girl! And no way gay! I love women, their feel, their softness pressing on me! Like Laura's. But what I'd just felt in my dream had been hard and hairy and relentless and ... reassuring! Comforting in its strength. Protective. And there it was again, that feeling, that smug satisfaction telling me, 'Be a real girl again! Slip that delicious cock into your body again. Snuggle yourself all around it! Make yourself complete! Take it in anywhere it fits!' Laura's voice joined in. "Yield to your desires, sweetheart. Yield! Do what you feel you must do!" I had to! But not with my ass yet again -- that was way too sore. So I wriggled down under the covers and felt for her cock where it was strapped against her mound, and wiped it gently with the damp cloth she handed me, and then grasped it gently in one manicured hand and lined it up with my face and then licked it. Crown, sides, velvety and veined underside, and wrinkled balls. Lovely, so pink and smooth, that tower! A perfect facsimile of a very large cock. So I took it into my mouth and swallowed it as far down my throat as it would fit. Easily, after all the weeks of deep throat practice I'd had, Laura encouraging me most nights, always before she was willing to fuck me with it. My lips closed on the base of its shank. "Yes, sweetheart. Yield to your desires! Suck." My head rose and fell over it, and my mouth licked and sucked. Heavenly! She sighed, contented. As I would have if it were my cock and it was Laura sucking on it. As I'd always sighed in the early years of our marriage, when our lovemaking had always begun with a gentle blow job. She was feeling what I'd felt then, sort of. I supposed. The other end of the dildo was tugging and pushing gently in and out of her pussy and rubbing against her clit as I bobbed and slid my head up and down on it. Yet another orgasm was rising up in her, and then her body clenched again! A series of high, throaty cries, and then "Oh, lovely," she declared at last in a high, breathy voice. Then "You're so very wonderful, my sweet Carol! Now we both need to sleep some more, you dear girl. Sleep." I did. When I awoke it was full daylight and late morning, my cheek still lying on her plump, smooth tummy, her cock still firm of course, its crown dawdling against my lips. Had I sucked on it all night? I suppose so, some of the night anyhow. I rolled my eyes up to see if she was awake. She was, looking down on me with such warm affection! "So, no more uncertainty, darling? No more hesitating? We're of one mind? You're ready for the real thing now? Ready to complete yourself?" My face sobered up. She saw, and her face sobered up too. She seemed disappointed. "You promised! I've honored all your desires. Now you have to honor mine." All true. "No, no, I'm fine!" I said hastily. "I'll do it!" She relaxed, reassured. Yet I still felt vaguely ... compelled. Tricked? These hadn't been my desires originally, not when we first began this ... role-shifting, this 'expanding of our horizons' as she called it. Becoming each other to better understand each other was how she'd put it. Meaning, me more like her. How many months ago? Has it been a year? Each night for more than a year spent sleeping in earphones, listening to recorded relaxation music and soothing, reassuring female voices. Even when I was on the road, staying in motels. If I missed even one I'd feel terrible, as if I'd betrayed her, so I never dared miss one. It had become a routine. Each evening after dinner I'd practice something or another, moving or sounding or looking the ways she showed me, and then we'd go to bed and she'd ask me a few questions and I'd answer them the way I remembered I should. Then I'd put on my earphones and the music and voices would begin, providing me with those answers again, and I'd sleep soundly. It worked! For years I'd had trouble falling asleep. I'd been feeling guilty, sometimes for ignoring her, sometimes for not satisfying her, mostly for misunderstanding her and how she feels about all sorts of things. For spending too much time with the guys and not enough with her. She seemed to think so anyway, and those were the subjects discussed by the first female voices I'd heard when Dr. Marcus first recommended those recordings to help me sleep and -- as she put it -- to improve our marriage. Our 'togetherness.' Gradually I'd learned how to be a better partner for her, more sympathetic, more sensitive to her feelings and desires. And little by little I'd felt deeper satisfaction when I yielded to those desires, understood them, made them my own. Now, most of them were my own! Especially while I was asleep and dreaming. Even a desire to be fucked by a man, apparently! "That dream seemed so real this time," I said. "I dreamt I was a woman, and a man was ... being passionate with me, and it felt ... simply marvelous! So very ... I just can't say! Am I turning queer? Is that a new recording? Maybe you slipped something into my wine last night?" She looked offended. "Oh, my dearest, how can you think that? Not at all! No, your program suggests new desires while reinforcing the old ones, all so you'll know all the more about how women feel, what pleases us, how you can share those feelings and pleasures with us. That's all. Last night was no different from any other. We had dinner as we always do. Then we went into the living room as we always do and you practiced as you always do, last night it was just sitting and standing and walking as women do, as if your hips were wider and your torso ... heavier and more thrust forward. The way ours are. You asked me for your pills, the way you have to every night or you don't get them, and we tried on makeup and ... appreciated each other's bodies, as we always do. Same as always. You don't remember?" Fact is, I didn't. For months I haven't remembered any of our evenings at home. We'd begun with those recordings to recondition me, that much I knew. As a desperate measure for my insomnia, and also because we'd been quarreling. It was an alternative to divorce. She'd been complaining that I'd become increasingly domineering and that some of my attitudes toward women had driven her away from me toward ... well, at one point she'd wondered aloud if she still had any love left for me at all. I never understood what she was talking about -- I'd always loved and respected women, especially her. Domineering? My mother had been a real estate executive who'd supported and raised us after my father abandoned his family. My older sister had always made sure that I respected her, as only older sisters can. I was meek enough in the presence of women, a perfect gentleman I always thought, though friends sometimes called it 'pussywhipped.' Yet, a few years into our marriage Laura told me I was becoming intolerable, and that her friend Charlotte had recommended a marriage counselor to her, a Dr. Marcus, who offered hope. Dr. Marcus counseled us together and separately, and then recommended this ongoing course of treatment. It worked, it was now my routine. Laura now felt 'liberated' from me and yet closer to me than ever. These days we were always affectionate with each other. What treatment? The counselor had conditioned me to respond appropriately to certain words, and Laura used one or another of them each night. After dinner we'd settle into the living room and I'd practice moving the way she moved, feet close together and elbows against my ribs for example, or standing with toes slightly pointing toward each other, seemingly childlike and vulnerable, the way female models do. Sometimes talking the way she talked, using words like "precious" and "adorable," substituting higher and more mellifluous tones for my usual bass rumble, learning to giggle like a girl instead of grin knowingly like a man. All to better imagine and feel whatever she was feeling. After a few weeks of this, when we went to bed she'd invite me to kiss her crotch, even to make love to it with my mouth "as women do with each other," and I'd find I couldn't not do it! Nor stop doing it until she asked -- once she fell asleep with me licking down there, and woke in the morning to find me still at it, my tongue raw! Always, as we settled in to sleep, she'd put a disk into her laptop or cue her iPad, adjust my earphones, and send me drifting off to sleep. I'd hear music and a woman's soothing voice and feel deeply content, and then come awake at daybreak! If it was a weekday I'd hurry to get breakfast in bed for her and then dress to get to work. At first to shave, choose which suit and freshly laundered shirt and tie, comb, then leave. More recently to shed my babydolls and shower off my previous evening's perfume, then choose an appropriately chic outfit and brush my hair into a restrained ponytail instead of the shaped bangs and loose flow Laura preferred for me whenever I was home. Just last week's visit to the salon, Elaine styled my hair for 24/7 easy care, to wear practically any way it falls and still look cute. I've found that much easier, and now need no more time than Laura to prepare for the day, select a suitable outfit and fix my face and so on. "You do remember, I hope," Laura said as she looked me straight in the eye, confirming her own words. "This is the weekend we go clubbing. At last! We've been preparing you for quite a while, and the day has arrived. Maybe your dream anticipated it? Last night you did seem incredibly eager -- you pleaded for my cock, and you lubricated your own pussy and pushed your own fingers in and out of yourself while I was strapping it on, you simply couldn't wait for me!" She smiled indulgently, to let me know she altogether approved of that kind of behavior. "I know how you felt -- I'm that way sometimes too!" I couldn't remember any of it. "Was I in some kind of trance?" She nodded, and smiled to herself. Then to reassure me. "You could call it that, but no different from most nights. Same as always, honey, pretty much. Same as for a long time now. Though the effect is cumulative they say. Each evening you're a little more so." "But this time my ... desires seemed so overwhelming! My body felt absolutely dedicated to the ... the man I was dreaming about! I thought I was a real woman!" "Yes," she said. "I could tell. It was wonderful! You went wild with delight while I was fucking you. You yielded to my every wish without hesitation. You loved doing everything I suggested, uninhibitedly! You even ... well, never mind!" "But how? Why? After all my ... resistance earlier, why should I have ...?" "Oh, sweetheart, don't fool yourself any longer. Your 'resistance' in defense of those last traces of your supposed manhood? Your token shows of masculinity long gone? That's what we've been trying to overcome all these months! All that male stubbornness and possessiveness. And we've succeeded! You've brought out all your naturally girly tendencies and desires, even the ones you weren't aware of. You've come to love feminine things the way I do, now that you understand you always have loved them." "I guess." "You know now that you come by female attributes as naturally as I do. Remember how you told me that once when you were twelve and alone in the house you tried on your sister's bra and panties?" "I was curious how they'd feel, that's all. But I did it only once!" "Because she caught you and threatened to tell if you did it again. Wasn't that so?" It was so, and she knew that. I said nothing. "But afterward, you dreamed about dressing up in all her clothes! Only in your imagination, but vividly! That was exciting too, wasn't it?" I couldn't deny it. To move through the house with my sister's authority and self assurance, those were things I envied her. But also her clothes. To feel I was inside a pair of sexy panties was like feeling myself inside a sexy woman. Almost. The next best thing for a horny teenager. It felt incredibly erotic. I'd often beat off imagining I was hugging one or another of the girls in my high school class, or had actually become one of them. Imagining I had their figures, their beautiful thrusting boobs easily grasped by my hands any time at all, if I dared. True enough, I'd wanted to be a girl sometimes back then. To be inside one and feel she was inside me. "Yes," I said in as neutral a tone as possible. "Some." "Some? A lot! Dr. Marcus told us you play-act much of your manhood in order to overwhelm and suppress a genuine womanhood within. She said as much the first time she put you under, to prepare you for your nightly relaxation recordings. And you agreed. So when I started you wearing my panties and so on and then got you your own, you were delighted! The same thing when I first sucked on your chest and called them your titties, and my tongue diddled your nipples. You turned all to mush, you adored it, and you still do! The very next day you agreed you'd wear bras all the time, from then on, so you'd project out and your nipple tips would feel more sensitive whenever I touched them! As you have!" She smiled secretly, conspiratorially. "As they do!" She nodded. True enough. When a bra gathers up my chest skin and muscles and body fat into two lovely bulging mounds and Laura caresses them, I go wild! I feel soft, strangely beautiful, and I want everyone to see I have them! It's so much more authentic, having them! The same with my legs when I wear thigh-high stockings, especially the kind I need to clip to a garter belt, but even when wearing full pantyhose. My legs feel so marvelously smooth and curved, so beautifully sculptured, that I want them on display all the time! "They are lovely," Laura had told me when I first confessed that desire to her. "Ya gottem, flaunt 'em!" Which led me to wear women's lingerie always, and then also women's shorts and short skirts to show my legs off, and then blouses and eventually whole outfits. More recently full time, with all the accessories. Visiting Elaine weekly for hair and facial touch-ups. The women in my office all came to understand my 'transition' as Laura explained it to them, and it was just as well that the men in my office had long since quit asking me to join them playing golf or poker. Laura smiled indulgently. "I've never forgotten the first weekend I dressed you up all the way, in that slightly flouncey peasant skirt and tight lemon-silk blouse. Remember? You wore them all through Saturday, then changed to your off-the-shoulder mauve cocktail dress for dinner along with your first pair of heels. That was the weekend you practiced and practiced walking in those heels, four inches high! And learned how they show off your butt as well as your legs. Remember? You were a natural! So proper and graceful, yet so seductive! I loaned you a wig because you were still too shy to let Elaine do your hair properly!" I remembered. "Remember how eager you were to see your face fully made up? Never forget, baby, you wanted it, it was your idea! I still remember that first time. I showed you several ways to wear whatever, daytime and evening, and warned you to check your face frequently to keep it looking fresh? And taught you some of the cute ways we primp when men are watching so they can't help but admire us? I must say, you were lovely almost from the beginning, and then you only got prettier. I was so proud of you! You learned to love glancing into every mirror you'd pass, checking every reflection in every storefront, making sure you looked just so! " I remembered. It was so satisfying when Laura first got me up to look like Carol, took me all the way into Carol week after week, and then before I could beg out, despite fear amounting to terror, took me out of the house shopping and then to a restaurant. So I'd know no one would notice or care. What started with me in near-panic ended with the two of us being girls giggling together. That was when she started to call me Carol instead of Cary, as she has ever since. I began to feel gratified whenever Laura and I went out exploring other ways to make me feel more feminine. Deciding on the kinds of clothes and ways of wearing them that were most me. Eventually I took to wearing skirts and dresses all the time, or if not skirts then skin- tight jeans and capris -- especially as my butt changed from an oval to a bubble and I wanted people to notice it. It's wonderful, knowing you're attractive, that men admire you and women envy you! Soon I went everywhere with Laura as her girlfriend, no longer her husband. At first except for work, but eventually even to work. She wanted me to forget I was her husband. We felt closer that way. "No matter what people think, or what even you think, we're still married, girlfriend," she declared categorically. "And marriage means we're together forever! I do believe that!" So I'm now her "girlfriend" and not her husband, and have been for a while now. Eventually she introduced me that way to our neighbors, and they merely shrugged. Her old high school friends Charlotte and Marcy began to invite us to dinner as Laura and Carol. The first time I was tense, fearing embarrassed or humiliated. Laura told me a simple secret -- believe I actually am what I appear to be, and so will others. So I did, as best as I could, and so they did too. I assumed. Those sociable evenings were quite pleasant, and eventually not at all challenging. I got accustomed to being Laura's girlfriend, and she got accustomed to finding additional ways for me to express my girlhood. When Marcy commented casually, for example, that girls do find boys exciting (well, duh), Laura went out and bought us a double-ended dildo so I could see for myself. "For us both to use on each other!" she said with a wicked smile. And true enough, getting fucked with it began to feel much more pleasurable than fucking her with it -- I could feel nothing! The first night she used it on me was unforgettable -- I choke up even thinking about it, and not merely because she taught me to wet it down by sucking on it, by pushing it down my throat before she'd insert it into what then became my pussy. That's why we looked like two women finally awake for the day, this lazy Saturday, and why I was still marvelling that for once I felt I was a woman. Laura now sat at her vanity, making her face up lightly because it always had to look just so. She glanced at me and reminisced some more. "You know Carol, I can never forget that very first weekend we got you fully dressed and made up. You were so scared at first. Yet you loved it so much that when Monday morning rolled round you forgot it was a work day and dressed that way again, as if you were me, full makeup and all, all without thinking. Just like any other woman preparing to go to the office. You performed the whole ritual the way I'd taught you without thinking, mascara, two shades of eye shadow, eyeliner, foundation and blush, lipstick and gloss, all of it, chatting with me about other things the whole time. Because it felt so natural, you told me. And it looked so ... nice, you told me. And you like looking nice. Remember how happy you were the first time you looked into the mirror and saw only Carol? A gorgeous Carol?" I remembered. "You smiled at her! You were so disappointed when I told not yet, that you had to change to men's clothes and remove your makeup before you went to work. You didn't want to, you poor dear, so I relented a little. We agreed you could wear only a little, but discreetly, and then ramp it up over time. Maybe only a few strokes of mascara at first, and only a pale lipstick. To suggest no more than that Cary was a bit effeminate, maybe metro. Though on weekends you could always be Carol full out to your heart's content. As you always were after that weekend. True enough. Over the next few months I'd revealed my true nature to everyone at the office only little by little, at first only hinting at a lack of manliness, then more broadly displaying feminine pleasure in self-decoration, with longer earrings instead of studs, and a brighter lipstick, and a deeper eye shadow. Eventually I revealed my femininity fully, the hints of ridicule died down, Laura made some phone calls, and I was accepted as one more of the girls. Eventually I didn't care what anyone at the office might think. I made up my face properly and went in fully dressed. I was me! The guys in the office wanted nothing more to do with me by then of course, but the girls took me on as a kind of special project, a "new girl in town." Whether mockingly or sympathetically I never knew, but they did seem fascinated by my willingness to try all sorts of girl things with them. It was difficult at first when they invited me to cruise bars with them after work, to celebrate TGIF by chatting with guys and even teasing and flirting with some of them the way they did. But I'd tell Laura what I'd done when I finally got home, and she'd always be delighted! "Collect men's phone numbers as souvenirs," she said. "Or as door prizes. But don't give them your own until you're prepared to go all the way with them." She was joking of course. Maybe. Close physical contact? With other men? The thought disgusted me at first, but less so as time went on and the office girls told each other and me their tales of hooking up with different guys in different ways. I'd sometimes tell Laura the racier or more amusing stories when I got home. "She went to bed with two men at the same time, and woke up with two different men?" Laura repeated when I told her one such story. "That does sound tempting! Maybe I should start dating men again? What do you think?" she asked me. I wasn't sure she was serious. "Do you want to?" I asked her with lowered eyes? "Sleep with other men I mean?" The faintest suspicion that she might be serious hurt me! More than a little! "Do you?" she replied, looking straight at me. She was serious! The idea seemed weird at first, but I realized I wasn't necessarily a man any more in her eyes. Not her man, anyway. I was still wearing one of my better office dresses, and some of the girls had complimented me on my scarf earlier when I met them for post-work cocktails and gossip. Laura saw how I felt and spoke again. "I won't until you do," she told me solemnly. "I really can't. No matter how much I may want to. That's how I was raised." I felt instantly relieved. Infidelity was no longer an issue. Laura had reinforced my empathy with women and my own feminine tendencies and traits by training me to do what women do and providing me nightly recordings to encourage me, and she'd gotten me altogether accustomed to living as one and being seen as one. I no longer feared being 'read' as a man, and I enjoyed the admiring looks men sometimes flashed at me. Not that I could imagine being intimate with any of them, not at all. But knowing I was attractive did confirm my pleasure in my own femininity. Laura had to remind me now and then not to look grateful when passing strange men smiled at me. "Men assume that a woman's smile is an invitation," she told me. "And then you'll never be rid of them!" She herself became all the man my femininity might desire. I came to love the many nights she wore her cock and pretended to be a man while I pretended to be a woman! But now I'd just dreamed yet again that Laura actually was a man and I was altogether a woman and that I'd loved both the sucking and the fucking. Not because I was pretending but because I actually believed that's what we were! I'd enjoyed the sex with a man as a woman! At least in my dream. We were still in our bedroom, by now dressing casually for the day. Laura'd finished putting on light makeup and I'd sat down to put on mine. "Why do you think I've felt so especially ...ahhh, feminine the past few nights?" I asked her. "So interested in guys? So eager to have sex as Carol? To be Carol? Physically I mean." She smiled in a kind of triumph. "Sweetheart, I've been trying something new. During the past few nights when we play your recordings and you're properly receptive, instead of reinforcing old ... suggestions and offering you a few new ones, I've concentrated all my desires for you, everything I want you to do, into a single word. So you wouldn't ever refuse, nor want to. Just one word. 'Yield.' You hear that word, sweetheart?" She was looking intently at me. Into my soul. "As in 'Don't just pretend you're a girl any more, honey! You aren't a man! Become the girl you are! Be all the girl you can be! Yield to yourself!' " Of course! There was no need to pretend! At that moment I could only look back at Laura wonderingly. She'd created Carol, or brought Carol out of me, made me into Carol, and I felt so grateful to her that I'd do anything for her! Anything! I wanted to melt into her will. "Yield!" I repeated to myself, as if instructing myself. Yes! Oh, yes! That felt so very satisfying! Being Carol! What else could I do to make myself more authentically, more completely Carol for her? She saw the bright, grateful expression on my face. "See? It worked! I think that at long last you're ready, honey. That's why tonight we go all out. What I've wanted ever since you opened yourself to your own womanhood and I began to realize -- no offense -- that with all the advantages in living with you as a man, you wouldn't ever be quite ... enough of ... everything I need. Charlotte and Marcy never thought so, and I'm afraid I came to that conclusion too. Which is pretty much what all this has been about. So tonight we doll ourselves up and ... and ... well, we'll go out and we'll both enjoy the company of real men. The kind who know how to make a girl feel glad she's a girl. Who'll make us both glad to yield ourselves to men! So we'll both feel satisfied at last. Just as in your dream. You do want to yield, don't you?" Yield? Yes! To Laura? Oh yes! To my feminine self, to Carol? Of course! But to a man? That idea felt strangely perverse, though also ... strangely delicious! As familiar as this morning's wonderful dream. "Yield? Oh yes," I replied to her. Yes! I never felt myself more a woman than at that moment. She could tell. She suddenly sat down on the edge of the bed. "Kneel, sweetheart!" she said. "Kiss my pussy. Show it the respect a woman's pussy is due." She reached into her nightstand and hauled out her strap on. "Then suck my cock some more! And my breasts, and then I'll suck on yours. I want to feel your mouth on me everywhere. And you want your own mouth to feel at home everywhere on me, don't you? Yield, sweetheart. To me. To your own womanly desires! You're Carol! Love being Carol! Yield yourself to Carol!" "Yes!" I replied. "Yes!" I did love being Carol! So I spent the whole next hour ravenously licking and sucking on Laura, especially her nether parts, First the core of her femininity. I pushed my tongue into her slit as far as it would go, and kissed those plump lips between her thighs repeatedly, then licked upward to the delicate nubbin of her clit and sucked and tongued that, and when she orgasmed I swallowed her juices as they came dribbling out. I worshipped them! "Wait a moment," she said. "Remember, I'm your man too!" Without opening my eyes I knew what she wanted. I lifted my head higher, to lick my way up her shaft and kiss its crown. And touch my tongue to its tip. Her inspiring penis! I tried to swallow it down my throat again and again, bobbing my head up and down while rubbing its whole length with my lips. Then disgorging, I pressed my face lower down, back into her cunt, and kissed that instead. Then worked my way up again. From her pussy up her shaft to its head, then down again. Each time I took the tip of her cock into my mouth, it felt almost as good as it usually felt in my ass. Warm and fulfilling! Sublime. "This is what we girls can always do with each other," she said as she emerged from one more orgasmic peak. "Whenever we wish, for as long as we wish. Give each other as many orgasms as we may wish. This is how we'll make love for the rest of our lives, darling. But we'll also want men to do this to us too, won't we? To lick our cunts as often as we suck on their penises. Wouldn't you like that? Yielding to that desire?" Yes. I would. Early in our marriage I'd marveled at her pleasure when she sucked on my cock. When my reconditioning began, I'd envied her that pleasure, a little. No longer. Now I loved sucking on her cock. If sucking a real cock was anything like this, or like my dream, I knew I'd love it! When finally she released me, she told me to retain all day all of the amorous feelings she'd aroused, to cherish them, to cherish being Carol, to stay dressed as Carol and enjoy being Carol for the rest of the day. "Be no one else. Yield to Carol, and defend her if Cary wants to intrude on you," she told me. "You're now Carol. Full time, always and forever! Tell yourself that." She smiled and then added wickedly, "Just be yourself!" So I did. So I was. It was liberating. Last night's dream, my fantasy while Laura fucked me, had made a crucial difference. I wasn't Cary being Carol. I was Carol. Herself. Cary had gone elsewhere for the time being, and I couldn't have cared less. If gone irretrievably, no matter. I worked in Cary's study until mid-afternoon, not as Cary but as his administrative assistant, sort of, typing and filing his notes for him, approving or disapproving things, doing his job but also relaxing, enjoying the girly sensations that washed through me. I'd spent previous Saturdays dressed as Carol, pretending to be Carol, trying to feel what Carol would feel and now and then succeeding. But now I was authentic, because Carol was who I really was. Cary was an earlier, mistaken self. It amused me that Cary might well still be hiding out inside me, concerned for his puny virility, his so-called masculinity. That he probably couldn't tolerate the joy I felt whenever Laura's dick buried itself in me. But Laura loved me much more as Carol. Cary couldn't stand the competition. So of course, as any man would under such circumstances, he'd fled! Since I was Carol, when Laura called out to say it was time, we had to begin preparing for our evening's adventure together, I didn't hesitate. She wanted me to dress just a bit provocatively, enough to attract eyes wherever we went, whatever the clubs and lounges. To know it and enjoy it. But first to visit Elaine's with her, our salon, where tonight I'd go over the top and become as feminine as I could possibly be. So I'd know that I was. Then we'd go to a small cocktail lounge not too far off and meet two guys she knew. It was time I knew what it was actually like, dealing with guys. Hers, she told me, was a guy she works with. "He's rather handsome, you'll see. He's dated other married women, and I've heard from them that he's quite satisfactory. For months now he's been rather persistent with me, I must say. He senses that there've been changes in our marriage, that he can seduce me if he can make me believe he's as attractive as he thinks he is. And he isn't necessarily wrong!" My date was "a suitable friend of his, he's assured me of that. You'll like him a lot I'm sure, and he'll like you. He'll love you. He loves girls like you. You'll see." The prospect was exciting, but even though Laura had emphasized the word 'suitable' I found I was just a little nervous. "This is a first time for me," I reminded her. "It's an experiment, I'm just trying it out, nothing assumed or expected, right?" "Carol needs to feel she's a mature woman," she said categorically, a little evasively. "She needs to feel confident of what she knows and to enjoy the privilege of knowing. There's more to being a woman than dressing up and being thought one, and being treated like one at work. There's what moves life itself! There's sex!" She came forward and hugged me, her arms wrapped around my shoulders, so I hugged her back. As we embraced, she looked me directly in the eyes, kissed me, and continued, "Carol darling, I have something to confess to you. This will be a first time for me too. My first time with another man since we got married, anyhow. It's been so long. Charlotte's been urging me to try new guys with her ever since her divorce, but I've always felt obligated. Limited by my obligations. I'm married, after all. So in a nutshell, I've refused until we could both of us try new guys." I couldn't decide whether to feel shocked or grateful. Laura led me into the living room and sat me down and brought me a small glass of sherry, and explained herself further. She'd always been curious about other men, and she felt urges toward one or another now and then, of course. All women do. But she knew she'd feel indecent if she took on anyone outside our marriage until I could too. And she simply couldn't tolerate my taking on another woman, the very idea appalled her, she had to be my sole and exclusive woman, as I was now hers. So it would have to be another man for me. We'd have to get laid together. She'd tolerate no cheating, no deception, no violation of our marriage vows on her part or mine, unless we were together the whole time, implicitly approving and keeping the scales even. "I mean to keep our marriage whole " was how she put it. So I had to do what she intended doing. And had to enjoy it the same way. As a woman. She sent me into the kitchen for ice cubes, and when I returned I saw she'd shifted our drink from sherry to Bourbon. She took a sip and explained that she'd set the bar very high for me. I'd not merely had to learn to understand and empathize with women, but to look and feel like one. To be persuaded I was one. Because, as Laura explained, "Husband and wife are one flesh, so no new men should ever enter a wife's flesh without a new man entering the husband's." Any apparent infidelity had to be by both of us and with each other's full knowledge, the same kind, both understood and condoned. In my case, with another man to complete my transformation to womanhood. In her case because she was no longer married to a man anyhow, only to her dearest girlfriend. For her own peace of mind she wanted me to get laid first and she wanted to witness it. She wanted to feel as delighted as she knew I'd be when I became at last a fulfilled woman. She wanted me to feel in reality the way I'd felt in the dreams she'd induced in me the last few nights. She was sure now that I was ready. And this was why my conversion had come about. Not merely to teach me to appreciate women as women and make me a more tolerable husband. No. Early in our marriage, Laura explained as she refreshed her drink, Charlotte and Marcy had urged her repeatedly to join them in their little Saturday night adventures. Charlotte had gotten herself divorced originally to free herself to hunt out men at will or whim, and she'd accumulated a large stable of available studs. Marcy had trained her wimp husband never to question or object to anything she proposed. So for several years they'd both gone out on weekends and slept with many different men and than chatted at length with each other and with Laura about how it felt. What they were like, how well equipped, what they did, and so on. Each man, it seems, offered each of them a different experience, a different kind of exciting adventure. "Every dish needs some kind of spice," Charlotte had explained. "Especially a marriage to someone like Cary! Is he as blah as he seems?" Laura had confessed to them that she'd felt envious. "Not that Cary is unsatisfactory," she'd told her two friends. "He's attentive enough when we make love, dedicated to his own pleasure of course, but mainly to mine. Though that doesn't really matter -- with fucking, you can't indulge yourself without your partner benefiting, to give is to receive. He's not as impressive in size or in dedication to his partner's pleasure as your men, but he's not altogether inadequate. He brings me off, usually. Though I do envy you those towering orgasms you're always describing, each building on the previous. And of course I envy you the range of your experiences, the varieties of different men you allow yourselves, the short fat fire hydrants splitting you wide open and the long thin poles squirming inside you. And whether fat or thin, the six- pack abs those men slam against your bellies." That's what she'd told them. She'd repeated to them how scrupulously she wanted to maintain her fidelity in marriage. "It's more than a promise, it's an oath made before God and my whole family," she'd explained. "I can't break it by myself, that would be unfair. He'd have to break his alongside me. But I can't tolerate the thought of Cary with another woman! He's mine!" I felt gratified to hear that as I sipped my bourbon. I felt the same about Laura. Or anyhow, I had felt that way until last night, when I dreamt of my own betrayal of her with a man. Was I denying her that kind of joy? "Laura," Charlotte had replied to her. "What if he felt the same way you do about trying out other men? What if he thought he was a woman too? What then? I know a marriage counselor who's especially sympathetic with women, a skilled psychologist who ...." And eventually, Laura had taken me to see the good doctor Marcus, and all the rest had taken place. Except for the forthcoming ultimate event. I certainly did enjoy my new femininity, maybe once latent, now certainly prominent. Girls dress so much more brightly, and enjoy a wider range of emotions, live so much more full lives! Nevertheless I was shocked to hear Laura confess that she'd wanted to try someone other than me, and that I'd changed sex to enable her to do just that. But I controlled my reaction because, as last night's dream had taught me, whatever I might justifiably resent, I wanted what she wanted! That she'd envied her friends' sexual variety was understandable. I'd envied guys I knew for the hot girls I saw them with sometimes. But I felt the way Laura did. I'd married a partner for life, and Laura was plenty for me. I realized now for the first time that I hadn't been plenty for Laura. "I wasn't a virgin when I met Cary," she'd continued telling Charlotte. "I'd had sex with a few boys before I fell in love with him and we got married." I'd never dared ask, and Laura'd never told me this before. Did she have to report it to me now? But she wasn't telling Cary, I realized, only Carol, and she was only reporting to Carol her gossipy conversation with Charlotte and Marcy. "So I know each guy can be different. Cary was once all I ever wanted, and since our marriage its been only Cary. Yet I must confess, I do sometimes wonder what else there is. What I may be missing." I was gratified to hear that Cary was once all she'd ever wanted, though that 'once' made me anxious, and her 'only Cary' sounded wistful. I could think of nothing to say. She had then told Charlotte and Marcy, "I'd love to go with you some time on some of these adventures of yours!" "Then do it!" Charlotte had said. "Oh, I couldn't," she'd replied. "Think how Cary would feel if I did such a thing. Betrayed, mortified, humiliated, you know how guys are. They're so possessive. So insecure. So competitive with each other. They never do learn to share things. Especially their wives." Apparently Charlotte had produced a ready answer. "Oh, Cary wouldn't mind sharing you, I'm sure," she'd told Laura. "Or lending you out now and then. How could he? Husbands want to know that their wives are happy, and you can always reassure him of that whenever you're getting yourself ready for a date, whenever you're filled with delightful anticipation on leaving and crammed full of cum and satisfaction when you return." "No," Laura had replied sadly. "I'd mind. Because I'd feel guilty that he wasn't sharing my pleasure, only hearing about it." "Well then," Marcy had suggested. "That's easy. Take him with you. Let him share your experiences. There's no reason you can't both enjoy yourselves. I've taken my husband on my dates with other men sometimes when he promises to sit still and behave. " That had stopped Laura. "No, he couldn't tolerate that," she'd said. "It would cost him too much pain." "How about a straight swap, then?" Charlotte suggested. "You mean swinging?" Laura had asked after a long silence. "Let Cary pair off with some man's wife while I'm with her husband? No, I couldn't deal with that. I want to be the only woman in Cary's life. He swore to it and I insist on it!" "No, I don't mean swinging," Charlotte had replied quite seriously. "I mean sharing. Seeing to it that he does everything you do!" "But how can that possibly happen?" Marcy had continued. "There are ways. George objected at first when I dated guys after our marriage the same way I'd dated them before our engagement, but I brought him around, and now he's delighted to wait up for me when I go out because he knows how pleased I'll be with him when I get back, how eager to confide in him and share all my experiences." Her eyes drifted up a bit as she reminisced, and she wriggled in her chair ever so slightly. "Even demonstrate some of them. He loves that! That's one way we share. You do own a strap on, don't you?" Laura replied that she'd never do such a thing, let some other man fuck her and then fuck Cary the same way after she got home, not unless Cary gave his complete consent. And he never would. Charlotte had a ready answer. "Cary might never, but there are other ways to share. The surest may take a while, longer than you might wish, but in the end it can be the most rewarding way of all, and I'm sure Cary himself would end up appreciating it. We'll talk about it some other time." A few days later Laura had returned home from her monthly Women's Club meeting with an experimental relaxation DVD they'd distributed, "a sampler." She suggested we both watch it, and we both did. It had worked. I'd been obsessing about a problem at work, but three hours passed and I hardly knew it. Then it was bed time, and I fell asleep immediately. I woke the next morning feeling marvelous, though my tongue felt incredibly sore. "You were terrific!" Laura told me as she awoke stretching herself and saw me staring at my mouth in the mirror. "I have never in my life been eaten out as long and lovingly as you ate me last night. You tongue fucked me to four full, deep orgasms! My God why haven't I asked you to do this every time instead of that other .... I mean why haven't I asked you to do it first? From now on, you will, every time, lover!" And I did. I didn't remember anything about going down on her, but no matter, she was happy! Had I drunk too much after dinner? Had I drunk anything at all? How relaxed had that DVD gotten me? No matter! We went that day to see Charlotte's Dr. Marcus and she became mine, and after she'd examined and questioned me, we came home equipped with a whole series of similar DVDs. I remembered, that evening I'd undertaken the preparation of our dinner while Laura sipped wine by herself in the living room. I'd then cleaned up afterward. When at last I rejoined Laura, she played both of us another relaxation DVD. Again, I could hardly recall what it contained, but this time I remembered the wonderful sex we enjoyed afterward. She'd sucked so intensely on my nipples, for so long, with such passion, that they still felt sore the next morning. When I told her that, she'd spread an ointment on them that felt marvelous and increased their sensitivity enormously, as I found out the following night, when all she did was merely suckle and caress them and I ejaculated buckets! Twice in quick succession! It was heaven! When she'd proposed that I take a pill each morning to sensitize them even further, I agreed immediately. Each night then, I heard another suggestive CD as I went to sleep, barely remembered, usually not at all remembered. When she suggested that I start wearing certain items of women's clothes each weekend to increase our sense of togetherness, it made sense and I agreed at once. And later agreed to wear them as soon as I came home from work, "So we can feel closer," as she said. "And I can get used to you looking more like a woman." She was delighted with each stage of my progress into femininity. Soon I started wearing bras and panties to work, and finally complete women's outfits. When she called me 'Carol,' not 'Cary,' I felt complimented. After a while I was shopping for my own clothes knowledgeably, and everyone at work understood that my mascara and lipstick and suits and dresses were all because I wanted to feel like her, and "to mark me as hers." As was the dab of perfume she'd decided was 'my scent.' The men smirked at first, then stopped noticing, but as I've pointed out, the women were pleased and amused. I didn't care. "I'm me!" I'd tell anyone who questioned me. The recordings determined our nightly ritual. Not television programs, but after I'd cooked and served dinner and then cleaned up, I'd settle in comfortably to review the previous night's and practice what it had suggested with Laura, then as I went to sleep I'd listen to another. Some new, some old, a few with Laura's own voice on them as I realized one evening when the phone rang and interrupted my trance. Afterward she'd suggest that when we make love, we should try certain things she'd felt embarrassed to ask me earlier. Of course I did those things and encouraged her to let me know of any others. She immediately proposed that I do everything to her that Charlotte proposed, and of course I agreed. And did them, no matter how disgusting or challenging in prospect. Yellow showers, coprophilia, whatever. Her requests grew racier, but I was saved from embarrassment by them because I couldn't remember what most of them were. We opened our bodies to each other. She loved the way my chest was softening and my tush was swelling up, she thought, and she never failed to lavish affection on mine as I did on hers. Her touch was marvelous, sometimes bringing unbearable ecstasy. I'd ejaculate every time she sucked on my penis, and later also on my protruding and swelling nipples. When as she'd foretold my penis was no longer able to stiffen enough to enter her, she consoled me that I was now, after all, Carol, and Carol's clit was quite sufficient for her purposes. When caressed or mouthed, sucked or kissed, even when diddled, it would feel marvelous, drool some, and never fail to bring me off! What more did I need? Because I enjoyed feeling like Carol, I agreed to let her fuck Carol's 'very own pussy' when she brought home that double-ended dildo. And that too felt marvelous! In short, whenever she wanted to do certain things to me I'd previously done to her, if I felt uneasy she'd suggest that I open myself to my own deepest femininity as well as hers and try to serve both. To my love for her and all things feminine. To the idea of perfect intimacy. To intimacy with her as a part of myself, and to myself. To feel not the least bit self-conscious about any of it. I did everything she asked. And as the marriage ceremony had proposed, we did become one flesh. Hers. Her kind of flesh. As I came to appreciate her femininity, how desirable it was, I tried to nurture my own beyond whatever was suggested to me each night. To please her. I wanted to accompany her on proposed outings with Charlotte and Marcy to meet men, maybe to keep her out of trouble, maybe to share her pleasure with no implication of jealousy and no danger to our marriage. I didn't know why. It didn't matter. I overheard her telling Marcy one day that I had to be equally complicit if she were ever to go with them. I was more than willing, whatever that meant. So I'd been acting out Carol full time for months, and now I was Carol full time. At work it was now Carol who sat in my data-processing cubicle and went to lunch with the other girls. Carol they now and then teased about not having a 'fella' to date me or marry me as they all did. It was Carol who licked Laura 'more gloriously than Cary ever knew how' as she was assured. And recently Carol whom Laura had been fucking as if she were a real woman whose ass hole was a real vagina. Finally I'd dreamed I really was Carol and Laura's dildo a real man, and I'd awakened to find I was no one else. I must say, I was now eager to explore being Carol in different circumstances. It was strange. Each time I told Laura 'yes' and yielded, whatever my initial uneasiness a deep satisfaction would flood me. Once I'd been a husband with a mind of his own, but now I actually preferred being her cherished, impressionable girlfriend. Laura and those suggestive recordings had done their work well. I loved what I'd become! Getting fucked by a real man and knowing all the while that Laura was also being fucked by a real man was an exciting prospect! The epitome of togetherness! I did love it! I couldn't wait! And now the time had come! "So do you plan to wear something provocative, Carol?" Laura asked me. Of course I did! Women plan what they wear for different occasions. They lay plans. Now I had to decide, what would a respectable woman like me wear to get herself laid? I asked Laura, she had far more experience. "You'll want your ultra-low neck chartreuse silk blouse, Carol, the one we bought you just the other day -- you have a cleft to die for, and men can't possibly resist what it hints at. It'll be perfect with that tight black skirt you wore last Saturday -- I love the way your bottom is fully shaped by it, and undulates when you walk. And your black stilettoes of course. Undies that're ultra-girly, ultra-feminine and altogether attractive. So you're invincible. You'll want to feel you're so seductive that any man who takes your fancy can be yours." I nodded. I'd try to make it happen. It could happen. "The same way you'll feel pleased that any man who takes my fancy can be mine." That thought made me a bit uneasy, even though I understood the point of all this. "I don't know about that, Laura," I said. "Whenever I've dressed especially pretty it's been to please you. To satisfy me of course, but mainly to please you. Because you want me to be pretty." "I know that, love! And tonight you'll dress to look gorgeously seductive to please me. It would make me so happy to see you at last dancing in the arms of a man who's smitten with you!" She hesitated. "Maybe even being kissed by that man, or screwed silly by him." She paused altogether, then added, "While I'm also being kissed by my man, and so forth." She watched me closely. I hesitated. It was exciting, and I was eager to see something like that happen, yet again there seemed something wrong here. "Yield, baby. You know you want to." "Yes," I said, "I do," suddenly sure that I did want to. My Laura in the arms of another man, his face and hers blended together passionately? Yes! Whatever my darling wants, I want. "Yield," she repeated. "You'll want to look especially gorgeous. That's why we're both spending the rest of this afternoon at Elaine's getting makeovers. Face, hair, everything! This time to look so irresistible that men will worship us, feel eager to hold us! So whatever happens, whatever happens to either of us, you'll love it! I want tonight to be unutterably enjoyable for you. " I suddenly felt at a loss. My body. It fits my blouses and dresses well enough, and after months of dieting it's thin enough to be a model's. And soft and smooth enough. But it isn't that fully feminine! It isn't curved enough! For one thing, I lack breasts! Pectorals yes, and sensitive nipples oh yes, but globes? How can I possibly attract a man with my almost-flat chest! "Honey," I said. "You said I have a cleft. But I can't form one. I don't have a girlish figure. I can't possibly attract ... a man the way you can." She just looked at me. And sighed. "I guess it's time. How long has it been you've been taking your pills now?" "I don't know. Nearly a year? Over a year! Since a year ago last Fall I guess. " "And when did you start wearing a bra all the time? Even to your office?" "I guess soon after," I replied. "Some weeks after, maybe a month or so. Because you wanted me to get used to ...." "And so you have. One more question. When was it you found you had to shift from a B to a C cup." "A C cup? Maybe a month ago. Two?" "It's time you noticed, then. Baby, show me. Show yourself. Take off your bra." I slipped off my blouse, reached behind to unhook it, and shrugged off my bra's shoulder straps. As I did every evening before going to bed, before making love to Laura. "Now look down. Look at you. Look at how heavy those 'pectoral muscles' of yours have become. Pick them up, one in each hand. Look how they hang from your chest like real breasts. Feel how they fill your hand, and how heavy they weigh. See? They feel real because they are real." I stared at her, my elongated pectorals overflowing each hand as I lifted and lowered them. Now that she mentioned it, they were impressive in size. My nipples looked huge, and poked off their ends like thimbles. "Honey, truth time. We began your relaxation and suggestion sessions by increasing your natural male desire to possess a female with all her attributes, to possess as your very own all of the things men find attractive in a woman. To possess them intimately, as if your very own. To have them as your own. That gave us some wonderful months of lovemaking -- you've never adored every part of me more nor held me closer, and we've never felt closer. And you did absorb those feminine attributes into yourself as parts of yourself, so now you feel them intimately as a part of you always. You are now beautifully shaped like a woman, and you move with a woman's grace and delicacy, and you talk and behave as women do. Except for one last thing you look as much like a woman, you are as much a woman as anyone can be. You're now Carol as if you were born that way. Isn't that so?" "Yes." True enough. I'd discovered and encouraged my own natural femininity, and over time Laura's suggestions had enhanced those tendencies. I could now gratifyingly feel my womanhood inside me any time I wanted. I'd felt that way for months, whether at work or at home. As if I were a real woman. Until my recent dreams where I actually felt real. As since then. "Well, sweetheart, some of your recordings weren't designed to increase your femininity. Some of them were designed to keep you unaware of your femininity, so you'd be less likely to freak out as your body changed. But now it's truth time. Look at those nipples. Don't they feel heavenly whenever I caress them. Or when you caress them? When you merely imagine some man caressing them?" "Yes. Yes, they do." I was actually breathing hard! "Well, look at them. They're larger, more swollen than even mine! Touch them!" I did. "See? And those're just the tips! Now look at your breasts again." Two swollen, heavy hemispheres were hanging from my chest, tipped by thick nipples. I held one in each hand, then pressed them together experimentally. They formed a deep cleft. I was astonished. I took several steps over to Laura's mirror. There I saw a voluptuous woman's body with my face above it. Also a woman's." "I never saw ...." "No, it might have frightened you, honey. I wanted you to feel that you have a woman's soul, all of a woman's feelings and desires, before you came aware that you also have a woman's body. I know you've taken pleasure in your sweet, wriggly, round little rump. But you've grown more than that. You have a full, beautiful figure! You've been on heavy doses of female hormones for many, many months, and your body is transformed utterly. You're going to make so many man so very happy ...!" "Laura, I don't want to ...." "Just imagine how some man will feel when he's sucking on those boobs. On you! While at the same time pushing his penis in and out of your pussy. Sucking on both titties and fucking you down below! Yield to that idea! Yield" I did. It felt heavenly! My breasts suddenly felt rosy. Heated! "But honey," I had to caution her. "I don't have a real pussy!" "No, not my kind. Not yet. But your kind will do just fine until you're sure you want the other kind as well. If you should want to take two men down below at the same time instead of just one, the way I can if I wish, the way any born woman can if she wishes. But you do have one pussy most men can enjoy, a kind certain kinds of men often prefer to enter. Push a finger into yours as if it were mine. Right now!" I did. "So?" I asked. "Does it feel like mine?" "Yes. It feels like yours, but tighter." That did seem strange, though I couldn't tell exactly why. But as my finger probed deeper I began feeling something distinct, something all my own and very private. Like when Laura was fucking me, or I'd had that cock in me earlier in my dream. I pushed my finger in deeper, then out. Then in again. I knew I should be feeling appalled about ... something, but the penetration and withdrawal felt so good! Two fingers even better! I smiled appreciatively at my beloved wife. "Yes," she said. "You're now enough like me, and Charlotte too. Even Marcy, though I know you've never wanted to be like either of them. And now you know too, darling. Those trances we've induced each evening have ended with you transformed most of the way. You aren't at all the man you were, sweetheart. Physically, you're the girlfriend I've wanted for so long now! Really! All the pleasures you've been enjoying in fantasy are now available to you any time at all, for real, and that's a fact sweetheart! Any time you want to satisfy a man, you can. And any man can satisfy you. My dildo has been satisfying you for some time now, and tonight I want you to enjoy the real kind, a kind that throbs with heat and blood and passion. The most satisfying kind of all! The kind that feels the most pleasure when it's giving the most pleasure, so it can't ever give enough!" She smiled while I continued to stare at myself in the mirror. At my teeny cock and shriveled balls, those appendages attached to my female mound. At my inadequacy below and abundance above. Yes, that was now my clit, I had one, and it