Aftermath Confessions Chapter 6 of 7 The Wedding Night
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After The Wedding - Chapter 3 - Moving Forward free porn video
AFTER THE WEDDING - CHAPTER 2 - I THINK I AM IN LUST
As I entered the kitchen, Mary was just putting plates of eggs and bacon
on the table. "I thought we could both do with an energy boost after the
exertions of last night" she said, smiling at me. I sat down and we tucked
into our breakfast. By unspoken agreement, neither of us referred to the
previous night's adventures until we had finished eating. As we put down
our knives and forks, Mary opened the conversation: "Well how was it?" she
demanded. "Did you get the fucking you so richly deserved?" "Yes I did" I
replied, shyly. "I enjoyed it enormously but this morning I am feeling
guilty about having been unfaithful to you." "Don't worry your pretty
little head about that" Mary said, with a coarse laugh; "I certainly made
a cuckold of you with Simon last night! Actually, I think we were both
very lucky with the partners we selected. Simon told me a bit about
himself and John. Apparently they not only work together but have been
best mates since University. They are certainly a cut above many of the
other clientele at The Star." "I agree" I responded, "and it helps knowing
you had a good time too. Have you arranged to see Simon again? Only my
fear is that having tried extra-marital sex once, you will become bored
with me and we will drift apart." I started to cry. Mary rushed round the
table and took me in her arms. "Oh darling; never think that" she said "I
love you dearly and would never swap you for someone else as a result of a
bit of casual sex. Yes, I enjoyed sex with Simon, but it is YOU I love. So
stop worrying and tell me every sordid detail of what you got up to with
John!"
This was a big relief for me and so I dried my eyes and proceeded to tell
Mary about my night with John. "..........and then he dropped me off at
the station" I finally concluded; "he was a perfect gentleman throughout
and did not press me to see him again." "I hope he wasn't too
"gentlemanly" in bed!" Mary reposted. "There are times when a girl wants
good manners to go out the window and for her partner to get down and
dirty!" I had to confess "Yes, I had been "seen to" properly!"
Mary then regaled me with her exploits with Simon. Whilst she had enjoyed
more conventional coupling, her experience had been very similar to mine
in that Simon had proved to be a skilful and courteous lover. He lived in
a smart apartment in the middle of town and, like me with John; Mary had
warmed to him as a person as well as a sex object.
"Well I'm not sure I know where this takes us in the longer term" mussed
Mary. "I guess we can go back to The Star if either of us feels the need
for a bit of wild rumpy-pumpy; but in the meantime, why don't you take me
up to bed and show me these new tricks you have learned!" Needless to say
that although both of us should have been at work that day, no business
was done at either of our establishments!
Following our "experiment" I agreed with Mary that I would revert to
living a male role to see whether I had got cross-dressing out of my
system, or whether it was a more deeply seated need. I therefore removed
and cleaned all my prosthetic female body parts and carefully stored them
away in their protective boxes. We decided not to cut off all my long hair
- weaving in the extensions had taken an age - but to tie it back in a
male ponytail. It seemed strange no longer having to allow extra time in
the morning to apply my makeup and I found that, after having become
accustomed to walking in heels, my legs ached when I reverted to heavy
male brogues. I stilled somewhat effeminate with my plucked eyebrows and
stud earrings, but in the art world, where I worked, that wasn't too
unusual.
I managed to remember not to take out any "black moments" on Mary and our
love making positively blossomed to a level we hadn't achieved for a
number of years. Maybe this was because our recent experiences -
especially mine on the other side of the gender fence - had made each of
us more sensitive to the needs of the other; I don't know, but sex was
definitely good. After a few weeks, however, I began to miss the feeling
of being penetrated and to long to be the receiving partner in our
lovemaking. One night Mary, probably sensing something in my mood,
confessed that she too was missing the thrill of being dominant. "I guess
that whilst we are happy enough at the moment" she said, "sooner or later
one or other of us is going to go all moody and we will be back where we
were before you started dressing. I know you are missing your skirts and
dresses. Why don't you get them out of the cupboard and start wearing them
again?" We both cried a bit, but had to acknowledge the truth behind what
she was suggesting. I therefore unpacked and iron my female clothes and
booked myself in for a session at Carole's salon for a waxing and full
makeover.
Carole was delighted to see me again and said she had been wondering where
I had got to. She suggested that instead of waxing, I consider laser
treatment for the permanent removal of my unwanted body hair. "It is more
expensive initially" she told me, "but in the long run it works out
cheaper than regular waxing - and you only have to go through the pain
once!" I went along with her suggestion and, after a few sessions, was the
possessor of a nice, smooth, hair-free body. My beard had been totally
eradicated and the only hair below my neck was a neat little landing-strip
above my penis. After all this time my natural hair had grown quite long
and Carole was able to cut and colour it in a shorter, very feminine
style; getting rid of all the old extensions in the process. Carole helped
me re-affix my prosthetics so that, once again, I presented a totally
female image to the world.
Mary said she was pleased to have her girlfriend back and certainly
resumed lovemaking with her double ended dildo with every appearance of
pleasure.
Our neighbours, Sandra and Rosemary, were also pleased to see the return
of 'Belinda' and Rosemary took me aside one evening to counsel me that, in
her professional opinion, I was doing the right thing. "You feminine side
is too strong to be repressed now that you have finally admitted you have
one" she said. "Had you experimented with cross-dressing when you were
younger, your reaction now may have been less extreme, but, things being
as they are, you were risking a serious breakdown by denying your very
real need to bring out your feminine side." Well Rosemary is a medical
consultant specialising in gender issues, so I take her advice very
seriously indeed.
Once I had resumed dressing, relationships became much more harmonious at
home. Sometimes Mary and I made love as two women; at others she donned
her dildo and took me almost by force. She also started to enjoy being
fucked up the arse herself, so we got another dildo that I could wear. It
seemed odd to be using a false penis when my own one was concealed under a
thin piece of latex! But the dildo was much larger that I was naturally,
and Mary told me, slightly sadly, that she actually preferred the
substitute to the real thing.
One evening when we were sharing a drink with Rosemary and Sandra, Sandra
reminded me that some time previously I had indicated I would like to
visit The Star with her one Transgender Night. "How about we make an
outing this Thursday?" she suggested. I said I would be up for it, but the
other two declined. "Mary and I are quite satisfied with the two
transgender partners we already have" Rosemary said with a smile. "You two
go off and enjoy meeting other 'girls'. Mary and I will have a quiet night
in and, who knows, may find something to entertain the two of us whilst
you are out!" We all laughed, but deep down I knew there was a real
likelihood that something sexual might take place between the two women;
Mary had a wild streak within her psyche that had really come to the fore
over the last few months.
At Sandra's suggestion I dressed nicely in a pretty, knee-length dress and
medium heels on the Thursday evening. "This isn't a 'pick-up' night" she
explained. "We just want to talk and get to know some of the 'girls'; it
would look a bit aggressive and over the top to go out glammed up to the
nines." Accordingly two attractive but demure women made their way to The
Star in Sandra's car. There was no possibility that we would be sleeping
away from home on this occasion and Sandra intimated she didn't mind not
drinking.
Physically the bar of The Star was as it had been on my previous visit,
but the atmosphere was significantly different. For a start the lighting
levels were much higher; the music less raucous; and more of the clientele
seemed to know each other. There were a few butch lesbians present, but
most of those in the bar were cross-dressed men. In some cases this was
blatantly obvious; overweight men with hairy arms and legs sat, legs
akimbo, sipping their pints and chatting with friends. They were clearly
content just to be in companionable fellowship with like minded wearers of
skirts and dresses. Then there were a few outrageous Drag Queens. -
(although I subsequently realised these were primarily here to perform in
the cabaret.) There were some young trannies whom it would be hard to
distinguish from genuine girls; but the majority were like me - in their
30's and 40's; more or less passable; and doing their best to behave in a
feminine manner. Sandra boosted my ego when she whispered that I was
undoubtedly one of the more convincing 'girls' there.
I ordered us a couple of drinks and we soon struck up a conversation with
a group of some six women, some around the same age as Sandra; others
nearer to me in years. They were entranced to discover that Sandra was a
post-op transsexual and that she was in a permanent relationship with a
natural-born woman. Sandra was deluged with questions about her
experiences until, eventually, she said "Enough is enough; we really
didn't come here to talk about me, but rather to give Belinda here a
chance to meet some t-girls. This turned their attention towards me and I
spent the next couple of hours learning a lot about the different paths t-
girls follow in coming to terms with their true nature. The ladies I was
talking to found it hard to believe that until less than a year ago I had
never, in my life, worn female clothing. "But you are so convincing" one
exclaimed in mock anger. "I can't believe that I had to struggle for years
to look as I do and you outshine me in a matter of months!" All very
flattering, if not necessarily accurate! Anyway I had a great time and
thanked Sandra profusely as we drove home for having suggested the visit.
I resolved I would go again and, in future, would be quite confident of
going on my own.
So things went along pretty smoothly for several months. I dressed full
time now and only removed my prostheses to wash and clean them; putting
them back on as soon as they were dry. I disposed of the remnants of my
male wardrobe. I no longer needed the clothes; they wouldn't have fitted
me anyway as I had lost quite a lot of weight; and, most importantly, I
needed the extra hanging space for my ever expanding female wardrobe! Life
was rather good. Everyone in the village had come to accept that I was
virtually a woman anyway; and those I worked with in the art world took my
gender change in their stride.
Then disaster struck! I had felt a bit under the weather for a few days
and was running a bit of a fever. I put it down to some bug I had picked
up and thought little about it beyond taking paracetamol and drinking lots
of fluids. Then one night I awoke about 3am in excruciating pain centred
on my groin. I didn't know what to do with myself it hurt so much.
Fortunately Mary kept her head and rang for an ambulance. I was rushed off
to the local hospital and after a very brief visit to A&E was whipped down
to theatre.
Here I was given a local anaesthetic and the surgeon carefully cut away my
false vagina prosthetic. After an examination he came and stood beside me.
"I'm very sorry Mr Marchbanks" he said, with a grave face, "but I have
some bad news for you. You have been keeping your testicles tucked up
inside your abdomen for too long. Every week or so you should have allowed
them recovery time in their natural position; as a result of this abuse,
they have atrophied; softened; and become a natural centre for harbouring
disease. They are currently so putrid that they are poisoning your whole
body. I'm afraid there is no option but to remove them." I must have
blinked in astonishment because he reiterated; "Yes I have to castrate
you. It is either that or you will die of septicaemia." Well I had no
option; I signed the consent forms and in next to no time my testicles
were off; my scrotum packed with antibiotic powder; and I was being
wheeled off to a ward.
What had I done to myself? As a result of my obsession to cross-dress I
was now a eunuch; neither man nor woman. What would Mary say when she
learned what had happened? I need not have worried; Mary was at my bedside
just as soon as the nursing staff had got me settled in a single side
ward. "It is going to be OK darling" she gasped, grabbing hold of my hand.
"The doctor has told me that now they have removed the source of the
infection, the residual poison will flush out of your system quite quickly
and the antibiotics will help speed that process." "But what about us" I
sobbed? ""I'm neutered now and am neither man nor woman. What are we going
to do?" "Why go on as before, of course" was Mary's calm reply. "This
isn't entirely your fault. If I hadn't pressured you to dress as a woman
for Rosemary and Sandra's wedding, the probability is that you would never
have considered putting on a skirt. I am as much to "blame" as you are!
You haven't been truly a man for months and we are coping with that very
well. Nothing has really changed; you will just feel more comfortable in
your panties in future!" Her matter of fact tone of voice help calm me
down and I stopped crying as I realised that she was right and that the
removal of my balls was more symbolic that of any real consequence.
The antibiotics did their work well and within a couple of days the
infection had virtually disappeared; my fever had gone; and I was allowed
home with the strict instruction to complete taking the full course of
tablets I had been prescribed and that I should arrange an appointment to
come and see the doctor again in a month.
It was good to be back home in my own bed. Mary insisted I stay in bed for
at least 24 hours, so the next morning Sandra and Rosemary came to visit
me in my bedroom. They had clearly been worried about me and my heart
welled with the realisation of the quality of my true friends. After the
usual pleasantries and "get well soon" comments, Rosemary asked if she
could have a word with me on my own. "You have an important decision to
take" she told me. "When you go back to see the doctors in a month's time
they are going to put two choices in front of you. In essence now that you
have no testicles, your hormonal balance is going to be all over the place
and the doctors are going to need to re-stabilise you. This means that
they have to pump you full of either male or female hormones. Normally
this wouldn't be an issue. Any man unfortunate enough to be castrated is
automatically prescribed testosterone which he has to take for the rest of
his life. You, however, are not a 'normal' man; you live and present as a
woman. This means that you now have the opportunity to accelerate your
transition to female gender by asking to be put of a regimen of female
hormones."
"What will that mean for me" I asked nervously? "Well basically there are
four states in which you could exist in future" Rosemary explained. "You
could revert to living as a male, but the processes you have already been
through would mean that you would always look effeminate and your lack of
testicles means that you will no longer be able to get an erection. The
second choice is to take the testosterone treatment but continue to live
as a woman - much as you are now. You still won't be able to initiate sex.
The third option is to opt for female hormone treatment; retain your
penis; accept that you will develop secondary female physical
characteristics - by which I mean breast growth and a broadening of your
hips and bottom. You would become a 'she-male'.
The final choice is to opt for full gender reassignment. You would still
need to take female hormones for the rest of your life, but, by removing
your penis, the surgeons can use the residual skin from that and your
scrotum to create a functioning vagina. You can't become pregnant and
won't bleed during your monthly cycle - although you will have one; other
than that you can live as a fully functioning woman and enjoy sex just as
much as the rest of us do." "But what about Mary" I asked? "If I can't
satisfy her as a man, isn't she likely to go off and find one who can?"
Rosemary laughed; "well you haven't exactly been satisfying her as a man
for months have you?" she said. "I don't notice her complaining now and I
doubt she will in the future. Sandra and I have a very active sex life, as
you know, and you and Mary have already shown you are both prepared to be
liberal with your sexual favours whilst staying true to each other in the
ways that really matter. I know which option I would choose, but only you
can decide. There is no hurry; talk it through with Mary and if either of
you have any questions, you know where to find me." With that she made her
farewells and left.
I told Mary what Rosemary had said to me later that evening. She too told
me not to be silly; "I'll love you whatever option you choose" she said.
"For my part I think it makes most sense for you to go the whole way and
elect to have the same surgery as Sandra had. You are more than 90% female
now, so the remaining 10% is no big deal. I think I could get to enjoy
being bisexual and, as Rosemary points out, when we both feel we need a
bit of cock, we know where to go to get it!" This last was said with the
most wicked grin on her face that it caused me to burst out laughing;
rapidly brought to a halt by the stab of pain to my wound!
So the following month when I had my 'follow-up' appointment with the
hospital, I told them I wanted to be treated with female hormones as a
precursor to full sexual reassignment surgery. I was given a prescription
immediately and, aside form the chore of having to remember to take a
handful of pills for three weeks out of four, my transition went very
smoothly. (Mary pointed out, perhaps a little maliciously, that my
situation was no different from genuine women who had to remember to take
a daily contraceptive pill to avoid becoming accidentally pregnant!) The
reason I took the pills for only three weeks out of four, was that during
the fourth week I experienced what was effectively my 'period'. Apart from
the fact I didn't bleed, I experienced all the other uncomfortable systems
all women have to endure; bloating; mood swings; nausea; not nice but very
feminine!
After a few months, I notice that my breasts were starting to swell and
that my trousers were becoming tighter in the derriere quarter! After
about eighteen months the changes to my body seemed to have stabilised and
I was able to start asking about SRS. As I had, of course, been living as
a woman 24/7 all this time, I had more than fulfilled the 'real life time
test' and my doctors agreed I could proceed to surgery.
So that is why I am lying here on a trolly waiting to be taken down to
theatre for the various procedures. In addition to the removal of my penis
and the creation of a vagina, I have elected to have a small amount of
breast augmentation; the removal of my lower ribs to create a female
waistline; and liposuction to transfer some body fat to my hips and
buttocks. When I am recovered from this bout of surgery, I will undergo a
further operation to effect cosmetic improvements to my lips; nose; eyes;
and chin. In about three months time I will be as complete a woman as I
ever can be. Mary insists she will continue to love me; I REALLY hope this
will be the case, but only time will tell. Ah; here comes the porter to
take me down to theatre. Wish me luck!
Cheryl
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