Girl Unraveled: Unravel free porn video

unravel \??n-?ra-v?l\ v. 1. To unfasten, or to come unfastened a piece of clothing or fiber. 2. To find the correct answer for something that is difficult to understand. The first thing that happened when the child was born was that the mother, Patricia Jones, passed out from exhaustion. This left the newborn to be held in the arms of a young nurse. "Doctor," the nurse said, turning to catch the graying man before he left the room for his smoke brake, "I think you should come look at this." The doctor turned. He was tired. Monitoring a complicated birth for eleven hours, even with on and off shifts, had taken a lot of him but not so much that he didn't notice the nurse's pert tits from her scrubs' blouse top as she bent the baby towards him. Margaret, that was her name, Dr. Greg Etski thought. Even for a twenty-year-old she looked very motherly, holding the baby so tightly. His mind wandered. Maybe he could ask her out for a drink? If she bent a few inches more he'd probably see her nipples. "Doctor?" she repeated, now looking up. She caught him staring but didn't seem to mind. "Hmm, oh! What do we have here then." After inspecting the infant however his mind suddenly wasn't on sex anymore. --- Almost thirty years of medical practice and Etski never had to deal with anything like this. He had gone immediately to deliver the news to the father - the father's name after all was also the name of this entire wing of the hospital. Normally he'd start with the good news but became tripped up with what, for him, was his normal congratulations speech to new parents. "Congratulations, your wife gave birth to a healthy baby..." The doctor couldn't quite finish the phrase, stuttering and stammering like a first year med student. It had gone down hill from there, with Mr. Jones demanding answers to questions he didn't even know how to ask. After hearing one particular word from the Doctor however, Alexander Jones quickly shoved him into the nearest room out of earshot from the rest of the waiting room. The door slammed behind them. "Hermaphrodite!" Jones yelled immediately. Dr. Etski was aghast. Alexander Jones, the father, threw his full weight at him like he wanted a fight. Even though Mr. Jones had six inches and maybe fifty pounds on him, Etski still worked out and so he was all muscle compared to Jones who appeared to be made mostly out of chicken wings and beer guts. The room they shoved into was a former patient's room. Former because the older lady who had occupied it passed away just this morning. Jones had an air about him that said he could care less if they were tap dancing on her grave and Etski became furious. If he hadn't basically built half of this hospital, Etski thought, I'd knock his socks off. "What I mean to say is that your baby has both sets of anatomy," is what Greg ended up telling him. "I know what a hermaphrodite is! You guys have fucked up this birth from the beginning. Eleven hours and then this? So what do we do now, you mean to tell me my kid is a freak?" "Not a freak, Mr. Jones. Physically speaking the child is perfectly healthy. As are the child's gonads, penis, uterus and ovaries. This is something that's been medically documented before and in your child's case the presence of two X chromosomes can be found so normally we'd just assign... Mr. Jones?" As soon as Alexander had heard the words 'gonads' and 'penis' he had gotten real quiet and started to pace about in short, quick steps. He put a finger to his lips as if deep in thought. Finally he waved away Etski's words before he could finish. "So," Jones finally said, "you're saying my son could be fully functional? Get a girl knocked up and all that?" "Well," the Doctor continued, "what I actually said was that your daughter..." "Listen here..." Mr. Jones said, pulling Greg to him as he hushed him in a stern, conspiratorial tone, "I have a son. Understand? You do what you have to do but my kid is a boy, got that?" Etski was wordless. Over the next few minutes Jones had the doctor go over the procedure, then had him repeat it. Etski had no choice. He had worked too long and too hard and this man, more than any other, could make sure the rest of his career was a living hell if not end it altogether. Still, he knew the enormity of what this father was asking, as well as how unethical it was. "And listen," Jones said right before they left the room, "no one needs to know about this, all right?" As if that needed to be said, Greg thought. --- Mrs. Jones was rousing. The same cute nurse sat patiently by her bedside finishing a Jumble puzzle. "Mmm. Where's my baby?" Patricia Jones said, sleepily. The nurse looked up to speak but before she could answer the husband, Alexander, burst out from the corner of the room where he had been waiting since his chat with the Doctor. "Uh, he's okay," Alexander said, trying not to sound guilty. "He's with the Doctor. They're just making sure everything's okay." "He?" his wife said, then smiled widely under her droopy eyes. "So, he's a boy." "Uh, yeah. And I was thinking he deserved a real masculine name like his father. Richard... or... or... William maybe!" Normally, Patricia deferred to her husband dutifully but her fatigue had brought out her stubborn side. "No honey. It'll be something softer. Taylor... Robin... Casey. I like Casey." "Um. Okay. Maybe something like Casey Alexander then, like..." "No," she interrupted. "Casey Skye." "But that's too..." "Honey? My favorite grandmother was named Skye and I promised her on her deathbed I'd name our first child after her. We can't very well name a boy Skye but as a middle name it's fine." "But... but..." Alexander raised a finger, clearly flustered. "Casey Skye," she confirmed , nodding to the nurse. The nurse put down her puzzle and picked up a clipboard of papers. She wrote down the child's name as the mother spelled it. Then, as if to conclude the would-be argument with her husband, Patricia fell back asleep. Alexander's mouth hung wide open the whole time, wordlessly. At that same time, in another room of the hospital Doctor Etski looked down at the small baby. The child lay dwarfed by the paper-covered operating table the child squirmed on top of. "Don't you look at me like that!" the doctor muttered nervously as the child's wide, blue eyes gazed up at him. He took another long drag of his cigarette and looked away, then back, then away again. The echo of his foot tapping echoed inside the sterile chamber in rapid rhythm. He had been chain smoking inside the room the whole time but neither the cooing baby nor the puffs of smoke were likely to catch the notice of anyone. He had selected Operating Room 3 for this reason. It was a room reserved only for high-profile surgeries booked weeks in advance. He wouldn't be disturbed. "So..." the Doctor muttered. Greg looked down out of the corner of his eyes, eyebrows raised. His mouth was locked in a tight, manic expression. He huffed in deep. Cigarette held in one hand, a shaking curved suture needle held in the other. "So. So, so, so," he muttered. The baby - Casey as the child was recently named - just looked backed at him and cooed sweetly. "Well," he said decisively, "neither of us is getting any younger," and gave out a nervous laugh. He dropped his cigarette and stamped on it hard. Then he twisted his foot on it as he puffed out a large cloud of smoke as far away from the child as he could. He owed the kid that simple courtesy at least. He unwrapped the baby and twisted the kid into position as he lowered the needle. "I'm sorry," Greg said, "I hope you have a happy life... as you... are," he stuttered. As if in answer or just sensing something was wrong, Casey began to cry. Normally, giving anesthetics to newborns is disallowed. Children that young usually have no memory of pain and the chemicals used to numb a baby are usually more dangerous to them in any case. Greg wasn't sure if it would do any good but he spread a local anesthetic on the child's genitalia anyway. Casey - the child's legal name would be Casey now but to Greg the kid was just another nameless baby - had what looked to be a normal set of anatomy. The penis was tiny but with what looked to be a functioning urethra opening at the tip of the glans. Two gonads, no bigger than chickpeas hung there. The whole of all the male skin was glistening pink. Greg had already completed the circumcision earlier. The baby also had a vulva beginning at the base of the penis, looming right under it as if the penis was a large clitoris. Greg knew more than saw that the vulva would lead to a vagina that stretched all the way to a healthy, tiny uterus as well as two would-be functional ovaries. A second urethral opening was visible on the surface here as well. Certainly, this was an anomaly but what about this child wasn't? Greg did wonder if both urinary canals worked but shrugged the curiosity away as soon it wouldn't matter. The nicotine now pumping through his system barely held back his guilt enough to keep his hand from shaking as he put the needle in. Casey's screams were barely contained inside the steel walls of Operating Room 3. Greg knew now there was no going back and he hated Mr. Jones, as he hated the hospital board for the amount of power they allowed him to exercise here. But more than that he hated himself. He wasn't brave enough to disobey the system. But still, as the child who would normally have been assigned a girl lay screaming and bleeding out of little pinpricks, he knew there was at least one thing he could do. If I stitch it this way, he thought, the suture will be irreversible. Happy or not, a boy is what you'll be. But if I stitch it this way... --- 16 Years Later Casey and his mom had just gotten home from the cemetery. A year ago Casey had lost his father. His mother, Patricia, had lost her husband. Alexander had always been a man's-man. He would enjoy a smoke or a drink or red meat any chance he could get it but his heart just couldn't take it. "We're home!" Casey yelled loudly. Betsy Rose was no more than five feet away in the nook of the living room on the left but she didn't so much as look up from her book at the interruption. Casey looked left and found her. He smiled, his mood lifting instantly. "Ah," Casey called to her, "right where I left you!" He ran, leaped and, with a hand on the couch arm to soften the blow, landed right on top of her lap, laughing. He glared up at Betsy innocently. Betsy didn't stop reading her book but grimaced under her glasses, clearly annoyed. "You kids behave," Patricia called from the kitchen, "I'm going to lay down for a nap." "So," the mischievous look never left Casey's face, "Bets. Read anything interesting?" She ignored him. "What are you reading anyway?" Clearly there was a bit of guile in his voice but truthfully he just wanted her attention and his eagerness shown through his voice as well as his posture as he leaned in, almost too close. No reaction. He continued. "Are... you almost done?" She clearly wasn't. Betsy was reading an absolute behemoth of a book, as she usually did. By the look of it she was only a sliver into the novel. Betsy put a finger to the page under the line she was on and read aloud, statically: "...but in the moment when he felt the response of her body to his, he felt also the unadmitted knowledge that that which he had called her depravity was her highest virtue-this capacity of hers to feel the joy of being, as he felt it." Even read in deep monotone, Casey was entranced by the rich timbre of Betsy's velvety voice. It was the voice of a medieval mistress, the voice of a woman warrior reciting the life of Pendragon or guiding lost vikings to Valhalla. Having now concluded the chapter Betsy lovingly placed a butterfly bookmark between the pages. She looked up reproachfully and adjusted her glasses instinctively, though they had not moved at all. "Now," she said sternly, "what do you want to talk to me about?" With her puppy dog brown hair tied up tight in a bun Betsy looked like an irritated old librarian having to deal with a patron who was making too much noise. Casey saw something in that look and all the humor left him. It was too much like the judging looks his father would often give him and his stomach fell like an elevator with the wires cut. What was left inside him at that moment was all the grimness of the day stewing inside nauseously. Casey would often make a joke when he otherwise wanted to weep or be the first to goof around with his friends if things got too serious. But he found he couldn't quite hide his feelings behind a smile this time as the sides of his smile pulled down, his eyes glazed with tears or in how his lip wanted to quiver. Betsy saw this and immediately felt guilty. Her and Casey had been friends since childhood. Her parents had gotten rich investing in oil and had moved into the area to tend to her ailing grandmother. Casey's parents and hers had become fast friends. So they too had spent countless hours together and she had come to learn how to read Casey like a book. "Are you alright?" she probed. She knew the answer and Casey merely looked away, sensing tears soon to come. He didn't want her to see him cry. "Don't cry!" his father had always scolded, and somehow the scolding had always seemed to make it that much harder to hold back tears. As did the memory of it. Casey and his father never had the best relationship. In truth, Betsy couldn't imagine how anyone could say they loved Mr. Jones. In fact one of the reasons she liked Casey so much - loved him even, if purely in a platonic sense - was because he was nothing like his father. Still she guessed a damaged relationship like that was all the more hard to bare when the person passed away. She imagined the finality of it all, like a problem that had reached its conclusion but instead of being solved was now just a wound that could never be stitched back together. She smiled at once and slammed the book shut so abruptly it startled Casey. He jumped back. "That's enough reading today. And the book is Atlas Shrugged. It's a classic." In the last bit she couldn't quite hide that natural air of snobbery in her tone that she was careful to keep from Casey but he didn't seem to notice. Instead, broken out of his spell-like-malaise by her sudden shift in moods, he eventually spoke up. "That last part sounded steamy. What is it, some kind of romance book?" "No," she said immediately, almost defensively. She did of course read those types of books as well but Casey didn't need to know that. She blushed a little. "Actually, it's mostly about economics. The world has a class of people that..." Casey tried as best as he could to follow what she was saying but grew bored almost instantly. He had only asked the question to bug her after all. She stopped, sensing Casey wasn't listening. "It does have some romance in it," she confessed. Casey's interest was renewed and it showed on his face. "There's a woman who runs a railroad company. She's trying to keep it running while the world around her is falling apart and to help her she goes to meet a man like her. A ruthless but efficient man and he, at first, supplies her with the iron she needs to build her track." Casey now was absolutely entranced, speechless. "From there I guess you could say they fall in love because they are so much alike." "Now see, you should have just told me that part," Casey said. "That sounds pretty good. But Bets, I don't get what that has to do with economics or whatever." "It really doesn't and that's the only part of the book I don't like. The book is about a world like ours that goes to hell because of bad economics. The author has a belief that the correct way to do things is to be competitive and efficient without the regard of others. But then she tries to apply that same theory to the relationships in the book also, even the romantic ones." Casey said nothing though Betsy paused as if she suspected him to. When he didn't, after a long while she spoke and he listened as if she was tutoring him. "For business to be that way is one thing. I understand that. But love should be more free. It should be selfless. If someone devotes themselves completely to you, and you to them, you shouldn't ever have to worry about yourself. Take care of their needs and they'll take care of yours." "Huh..." is all Casey was able to utter, thoughtfully. Now it was Betsy's turn to be amused and she almost laughed out loud as she said, "That's what I think anyway. Come on, let's go upstairs." 'Let's go upstairs' had been their little code-phrase for a few years now. Casey's mom would often take one of her sleeping pills when she wanted to nap. This meant a marching band could walk through their living room and not wake her up. Casey knew what to expect since the very first time him and Betsy had 'gone upstairs' and, despite the fact that he knew there would never be anything romantic between the two of them - they were practically brother and sister at this point - his penis hardened just a bit. That was because the two of them always went upstairs to masturbate together. "Come on Casey, you just have to let me. I can never get any privacy in my own home and I get super-horny," Betsy had said before their first time. The two of them were always blunt and honest with each other and Casey would always give in to her demands when she pressed him and it was no different with this. The first time she had just tugged her shorts down as soon as they had stolen away to one of the empty rooms and started rubbing herself off immediately. "You can watch if you want or join me but this is going to happen." Casey had opted to join her, though masturbating didn't seem to do for him what it did for her. This time, as with all the others, she expected him to join her and she was inside one of the guest bedrooms before he even made it up the stairs. "Come on!" she urged, her voice echoing loudly down the hall. Even though he knew his mother would already be fast asleep Casey still grew nervous. For one, this little secret of theirs still felt forbidden and oddly sensual. Betsy always liked to push the boundaries of their little sexual escapades, even seemed to get off on it. Once she had even suggested they try actual sex together. Casey had become so nervous then that he had immediately fled the room instead. The second reason Casey was anxious was because his little guy hadn't been able to finish lately. Casey didn't masturbate often. Frankly he didn't see what all the fuss was about, the way his friends talked about it. But he made an effort because he did care about Betsy and it had become important to her. So he would do what came naturally and tested out things before hand. After all his dad did always say, "Practice makes perfect," or used to say it anyway. So he would get naked in his room before Betsy came over and make sure all his pipes were working. Only the last couple times, well, Casey couldn't quite climax. "Cum" is what Betsy called it and Casey thought it was odd that it was called cumming for both males and females. Luckily, Betsy hadn't noticed his lack of performance in their little sessions. The first time he wasn't able to finish Betsy had been too into her own orgasm to notice and the next time he had faked it but not a drop came out. And none since then. That had been almost a month ago now and Casey knew he couldn't hide it from Betsy forever. Somehow he knew that if she found out it would be the absolute center of her focus. She could become obsessed with things that intrigued her and it just wasn't something he wanted to deal with now. As Casey walked by the room now he noticed that Betsy had left the door open more than just a crack. Even still, she had already started to get undressed inside. Betsy had been wearing a wrapped blouse. As he watched she began to unwrap it. Her dark brown hair had already been let down and it reached well below her shoulders. Casey liked to see it down. She always wore it in a bun and he would sometimes call her Betsy Ross, that old flag stitcher from American History, when he really wanted to push her button. Her glasses were off. Betsy never had a girl's face. It was always a bit rounded around the cheeks and she had a high, wide forehead. Glasses on, she looked a little like Thelma from Scooby Doo. But without her glasses her eyebrows would uncreased and her nose lost its normal, tense wrinkle. Letting her hair down both framed her face and opened it up at the same time. No, never girlish but like this, Casey thought, there was definitely a womanly beauty hidden there. Betsy was facing right towards him now, her eyes closed. Like the wing of a bird she grabbed and spread the left side of her blouse, high and back revealing above her left hip to her ribs as well as one large, hanging breast covered in a silken green bra. Though puberty hadn't quite come for Casey yet, it had seemed to have slammed into Betsy quickly. Her body seemed different now each time he saw her. She also made sure to described every bit of the changes she went through including her bra's cup size; he wasn't sure exactly what she meant. Last he had heard she was a C and talking about moving up to a D. Betsy released the blouse and it peeled back behind her. She grabbed the other side. Betsy had opened her eyes for just a second and saw Casey from the crack of the door looking back. She wasn't sure if Casey had seen her open her eyes or not. She also wasn't sure why it excited her, Casey sneaking a peak at her. He had, after all, seen her naked many times before, just as she had seen him. Their parents had let them take a bath together once or twice when they were very young and once or twice they had showered together, though that was done without their parents' knowledge. Casey had seen all of her nooks and crannies before she even had nooks and crannies. Still, he was a boy and she was a girl and the thought that a boy wanted to look at her made her feel sexy. Betsy had always thought Casey was cute also. His chin came to a point below a narrow, soft face making his mischievous smile look cute and small. His hazel eyes peered intently from beneath thin eyebrows and everything on it looked symmetrical and perfect. But best of all she loved his hair. When they were little a popular cartoon had come out called Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. So naturally his friends were all ecstatic that he had the same name as one of the main characters: Casey Jones. In the cartoon Jones would wear his hair long and in a ponytail so Casey of course wanted to emulate this as much as possible. But it was hard for him to keep his hair grown out when his father would always fight with him to have it cut short. Now a year passed since his dad passed away, Casey finally had that full ponytail he wanted. Casey had straight blonde-tinged hair that Betsy would have absolutely killed for. As she pulled on the other end of the blouse it slid across her and off. As it did, Betsy slid the elastic of her pants from her hips and let all the clothes slide off her at once. Knowing Casey was watching, she turned as her clothes fell away. Casey saw Betsy's slow spin like a dancer in a music box. Her full form flowed pale and full before him. The sun from the windows gleamed off her thick thighs and round butt. Her thong panties and tight bra were the only thing holding her womanhood back. Betsy wasn't fat by any means. She always had a little pudge here and there as a kid, a little on the belly, a little on the cheeks, legs that plumped out just a bit. As a kid this did nothing for her image and she grew to hate these parts of her. She hadn't been in puberty long enough to get used to them now that she was becoming a woman or understand how these aspects could make her very popular in a few years. Casey felt a tinge of jealousy just then. He knew how beautiful she was and how others would begin to see it before long. That awkward girl would quickly become loved. Casey too had always felt just a little awkward in his own body and now he wished puberty would come and do for him what it was doing for his friend. "Well?" she finally said, back turned and betraying the secret that she had known Casey had been watching her all along, "Are you going to join me?" With that Betsy undid her bra clasps behind her. The cloth sprung from her. The bosom held back by the bra was clearly too big for it and burst forth like a spring. That was Casey's favorite part of Betsy; her breasts were perfect. Nearly solid spheres of flesh that both pushed out and hung down and in perfect proportion. He thought then that he would have sex with her, if she would ask him at this very moment he wouldn't be able to help himself. But he knew she wouldn't. That, and he wasn't even sure he could. She stared at him and he instinctively looked down at his crotch nervously. Betsy stood straight towards him, now completely naked with everything that was woman fully displayed before him but his penis just wasn't responding. "I have to go to the bathroom," he lied. She gave an exasperated sigh as she rolled her eyes. "Go then." --- Casey stood before the bathroom mirror naked. Betsy had gotten used to this little habit of his. Casey never liked to undress in front of people, like the other boys in the gym locker room or when his father would take him to the pool. Casey, remembering Betsy's body, grew immediately irritated at his own reflection. His arms and legs were long even though, height-wise, he was still quite short. Shorter even than Betsy if only by an inch or two. His mother would comfort him saying that he just hadn't hit his growth spurt yet. He was springy all around if not muscular. This made him quick and agile and good at many sports for his age, but he hadn't yet gained the strength or size he would need to remain good at them later on. His voice was also unchanged since boyhood and retained a pure, shrill quality. At his best he sounded like Tiny Tim, which suited his comedic nature just fine and he was rarely teased for it. But there had been times he was caught off guard and even now at sixteen that, if he was not careful, at his worse he would reach pitches sounding more girly than even Betsy did. It was one of the main things he hoped would change soon, as all his friends' voices seemed to have started changing. Lastly he looked at his penis, still of a shape and size he knew in his childhood, no bigger or longer perhaps than his thumb. His testicles had yet to drop as Casey had heard they would from Sex Education class at school and no hair had grown anywhere near there. He had noticed some hairs had begun on his chest, if only a few, and the hair on his arms and legs was thickening. Or it had been. Casey opened a medical cabinet and grabbed the pill bottle there that was his. He didn't know what the label 'Folbecal' meant but his father had always told them they were vitamins. It was odd. Casey's mother had always done all the grocery shopping, the cooking and went to the pharmacy for all of the other medications in the house. So the fact that his father had gotten him anything should have immediately worried him. He'd have been more concerned except for the fact that his father had gotten them special for him. It was one of the only tangible things Casey had to show his father actually cared for him. It was also always in something like that this his father showed any semblance of affection. Like when his father would give him an off- compliment after a soccer game or say "good job" when he learned his son had gone to the weight room (for all the good it did him). He felt his dad was always encouraging him to be a man like he was, or even a better man. Somehow the connection to those vitamins and manhood was always there as well, at least his father hinted at such once or twice. "They'll help you grow big and strong," he might say, or, "They're everything a growing boy needs!" Casey of course thought it was nonsense but took them anyway, if for no other reason than it might make his father happy. But now his father was dead, the pills had all but run out, and Casey was beginning to believe there might be something to these pills after all. He had stopped taking them half a year ago. In truth, with his father gone there was no one to fill the prescription. He had tried to ask his mother once about getting a refill. "Ful'bee-cal," he had tried to pronounce it. His mother had just looked at him strangely, not saying anything. He had been too embarrassed to show her the vial. Since Casey had stopped his daily regimen he thought his body had began to feel strange somehow. It was as if his insides were shrinking yet also yearning to spill out all at the same time. It was all-at-once terrible and nauseating yet exhilarating and even, at times, pleasurable. Now only five pills remained. Casey wasn't sure just why he had saved them. He looked at his limp penis which hung sadly in the mirror. ?Here goes nothing,? he said, and he took one of the last remaining pills. He opened the faucet and swallowed the pill with a gulp of water. As he reapproached the southern guestroom he heard Betsy voice moaning. She had begun without him. She was closer to the beginning of her session than the end by the sound of it. Her noises of pleasure murmured out in gasping, consonant 'm' sounds instead of ecstatic, moaning 'o's. ?Casey!? Betsy called out, pleading. ?I need you in here.? Casey entered. Betsy was on the bed naked, legs spread with one hand between them, one hand encircling her plump breast. She was rubbing her sex furiously but didn't seem to be getting any closer to orgasmic bliss. Her larger breasts flowed about her chest like giant water balloons as she jerked around. ?On the bed, hurry!? Casey did as he was bidden and climbed onto the corner of the bed, cupping his crotch in his hands as he did to hide his tiny, limp penis. In other rooms at other times, Casey and Betsy might masturbate on separate beds or while one or the other sat in a chair. Only rarely would the two of them be within touching distance, and only when Betsy had trouble cumming. It appeared she was having trouble now. ?Why aren't you joining in? Come on, Casey!? Casey put a hand around his penis and was surprised when it began to respond. It grew stiff if not hard. Since his birth his father had given Casey the pills he had secured from his connections at the hospital. They had some bogus name, Mr. Jones had made sure of it, but the late Alexander Jones had known what they really were: Testosterone. Alexander had convinced everyone but himself that he had a normal healthy boy and the now-retired Dr. Etski had mentioned that taking Testosterone might be the only way his son might actually achieve manhood. That might well have been true, for without the testosterone Casey's body had begun making the hormone that her true chromosomes demanded: Estrogen. This would normally happen slowly but by reacting to the chemicals that had been introduced by the pills, her body had been overcompensating to create the hormones for what she was truly meant to be. Now, with the Testosterone reintroduced, both the male and female parts of Casey were warring inside. His natural physiology fought back hard, pumping womanly hormones inside him as fast as they could. Casey began to stroke his penis as he gazed at Betsy. She would peek at him every now and then and, seeing him join in, now writhed with pleasure. ?Oh Casey, do I make you hard?? This was atypical sex talk from her but both of them were too distracted to care. While Casey remained stiff he wasn't really getting much pleasure from stroking himself, yet still he lied, ?Yes.? ?Tell me I'm pretty, Casey,? Betsy said, a little self-consciously and pleading. ?You're pretty,? he called out, getting no closer to orgasm himself. Instead, for the first time he saw, he really saw what Betsy did when she masturbated and became fixated on it. Around her vagina ? Betsy had recently taken to calling it her pussy ? were healthy tufts of hair. The flesh itself seemed puffed out and grouped around skin like folds, glistening with moisture. At its top, dangling just beneath the hood of where her pussy lips came together was a small thimble of flesh that stood out stiffly, not unlike how his penis stood now. She rubbed the entire area and that nub of flesh especially in tight, concentric circles over and over. ?Say it again!? she bellowed. Betsy rubbed her left breast and nipple with her other hand. Casey was amazed at how far her nipples stood out, how much darker the skin of her nipple was than his own, and at the tiny little bumps that seemed to pop up there like goosebumps. ?You're pretty!? he called, his voice climbing those dangerous octaves that made him sound like a girl. In the back of his mind he knew when he grew too giddy his voice made him sound like Maria from the Sound of Music or Mary from Peter Pan but right then he was focused on something else. Casey didn't even consciously know he was doing it but in an instant he had released his penis. His hand twitched then grasped at air. It itched for something and slowly it made its way just an inch lower, right at the base of his penis. Casey began to rub. ?Casey, I'm so close. Don't stop. Don't stop! Tell me!? The sensation Casey felt was indescribable. Like little explosions of pleasure released by each pass of his fingers erupted and built in waves. The more closely he mimicked Betsy the better it felt. ?You're pretty, you're pretty. Oh God, so pretty!? Inside, unknowable or unseeable to Casey, the testosterone he had taken caused his insides to stir. His body had already been producing a large amount of estrogen, much more than an average pubescent teen girl with the hopes of catching his body... her body up to where it should be. Substances within him had begun to block receptors to the male hormone and even actively convert remaining testosterone to estrogen. But the invasion of the chemicals he had just taken made his body seek to overcompensate, causing all these normal female processes to happen at three to four times their normal strength. A moan escaped Casey's mouth. One, subtle yet irrefutable, ?Oh!? Betsy was at first too involved with herself, too close to climax to notice. Casey moaned again. The voice that fueled the shrill cry sounded nothing like Casey's normal voice. He was normally a nurtured tenor, a mischievous vibrato but always with that hint of something deeper underneath, like a promise of manhood to come. These vocal cords were instead confident and settling into what they would eventually become and the tone had a much higher, whimpering quality like that of a puppy but rounded at the top of each note fully and musically. ?Oh!? Casey cried again and again and now had settled into adding small grunts and ums in between. Betsy looked up from her own heaving chest. What she saw there immediately began to set off her orgasm but she didn't look away. Casey was a mirror image of her. When they were kids they had played 'show me yours' and Casey had once shown her a ridge of flesh just below his penis that stretched back in a long, straight line. It looked like a scar. As children they were fastened with each others anatomy and both figured this must be normal for boys. Casey was now rubbing the tips of his fingers around that area, rocking his hips out at each completed circle and causing the bed to rock as his butt slid back and forth on the mattress. It had been years since they last examined each other that closely and Betsy wasn't sure just what had changed or when, but that same scarred area no longer appeared to be a ridge that rose up but instead appeared like a lighter, almost translucent line of skin. It looked almost like the stretch marks her mother had gotten on her stomach when she was pregnant with her brother. Casey didn't notice Betsy's spying and it didn't matter anyway. Something was happening with him as well. He seemed on the cusp of his own orgasm and yet not quite, for this was a very different feeling than he was used to when he came. It was a similar build up towards a release, he had barely touched his penis but this was a build up all the same. He felt like he was close to spilling over and his mind wanted nothing more. Whatever this was he wanted it more than he had ever wanted to ejaculate. Casey took and Betsy saw one hand caressing his chest, rubbing his nipple back and forth like she was. His other hand began to graze and brush his penis into the circular motion. My God, she thought, he looks just like me when I'm rubbing myself. The thought didn't last long though as the familiar pulses and shivers seized her and she began to cum hard. At the same time, the same physical tremors began to happen within Casey's body. His own vagina, tucked away and wrapped behind a thin layer of skin, began to pulse and vibrate in his lust. The shock rose all the way up his spine and earthquaked between his legs until finally he exhaled in his own, first girl orgasm. Now he finally understood why people masturbated. His wails joined in with Betsy's as the two came, lasting for what seemed like forever. In his throes of passion however, Casey rubbed a little too hard and a small bit of skin tore right below his penis. The flesh that had ultimately been keeping his sleeping womanhood covered opened slightly. A bit of blood seeped out and the very tip of an as- yet underdeveloped vagina lay beneath. But even if Casey would have noticed, the thought would have been drowned out by the single most pleasurable experience of his life. And downstairs, if Patricia Jones had been awake she would have heard what sounded like two girls upstairs screaming in orgasm. --- In two weeks school would begin. The night with Betsy had been playing through Casey's head for the last several days. Betsy had come down from her orgasm first but despite the power with which it had hit her she couldn't stop the fit of giggling that came when she had looked up and saw Casey. Casey's hair had come unraveled and flowed about his shoulders, swaying back and forth as he shook his head slowly. His chest had been glistening with sweat but she was mainly focusing on his posture; his legs were crossed but splayed wide with one hand at his crotch and one at his chest. Casey had his eyes closed and was biting his lower lip, still enjoying the last of his own orgasm when Betsy's laughter brought him to. ?What?? he had asked then. ?Oh nothing,? she continued to laugh. ?You just look really pretty, Skye!? and threw her head back, laughing more. He hadn't spoken with Betsy since and had spent the last few days avoiding her calls. She probably knew he was mad at her and he knew that she never liked it when they were apart. She also probably didn't know just how embarrassed he had been that day and how even teasing him about looking girly brought up so many memories of shame and his father. More than that though were the physical urges that had awakened in Casey since then. Casey never really needed to masturbate before, so why did his groin feel so needy all of a sudden? And to top it all off, for some reason the fact that Kyle Townsend was staying at their house was not making things any easier for these urges. Kyle Townsend had been a friend of the family for years. He had caught Mr. Jones' eye as an apprentice for one of his construction companies but Kyle didn't really get to know the Joneses until his wife had died in a car accident. Mr. Jones immediately took him under his wing. Seeing him as a bit of a charity case, Big Alex was always looking for young men who looked up to him that he could groom. Casey's mom, Patricia, took to the task of comforting and healing the poor man in any way she could. Years later it was only natural then that Kyle had taken up this same task when Patricia had lost her husband. When Casey first met Mr. Townsend he had greeted him as his dad had insisted he greet all men. ?Hello, sir,? he had said. ?I think you can call me Kyle, just this once,? and Kyle had given him a quick wink. Casey liked him immediately and continued to call him Kyle, though it soon became their inside joke for Casey to still address Kyle formally when his father was around. It was less than five days after Betsy and Casey had masturbated together that Casey had heard his mom on the phone. ?Is Kyle coming?? Casey screeched. Casey's voice had almost completely gone back to how it used to sound except when he became excited. If his mother noticed either the oddly high pitches or the excess excitement in his voice she gave no sign of it. ?Yes, it looks like at least for a couple months this time. He took a big project in the city.? The Joneses had always let Kyle stay at their place when he needed to do extended work in the city. Kyle lived more than an hour out of town and his visits continued even as Patricia had become a widow. Admittedly he was her good friend even before the tragedy and had become an even closer friend afterward, at first anyway. Inevitably he had become her lover as well. The afternoon after next Kyle arrived and both Casey and Patricia were there to greet him. ?Come here, you,? Kyle said, dropping his bags and holding his arms out to Casey's mom. She glided into them and Kyle's wide forearms practically enveloped the small woman, lifting her ever so slightly. Casey at once wondered if Kyle would hug him also but shook the thought away. That's an odd thought, we never hugged before, Casey said to himself and wondered if it was just because he missed having a father around. Although in truth his father had never hugged him either. Though she was six years his senior Patricia had a radiant beauty and quiet kindness and Kyle hadn't been able to resist her. When the affair started the flame had ignited swiftly and burnt hot for four whole months but it simply couldn't have burned any longer. For one, both of them knew the whole time that theirs would always be a relationship better suited for friendship, even if the sex was too mind-blowing for them to admit it right away. The pregnancy scare however persuaded them much more quickly. Patricia hadn't been on any birth control in years. Alex and her had tried for a brother or sister for Casey but it never took and her husband had her convinced that it must be because see was barren. After just two months with Kyle however it turned out that both she and Kyle were very fertile. ?Casey? Casey!? Patricia called, eventually snapping her fingers in front of his face. Casey came to and realized he had been starting at the two of them. ?There you are. Be a dear and grab some of Kyle's bags and we'll take them into the Blue Room.? Kyle had already retreated back to his car and appeared again with more luggage. Casey tried not to show the struggle on his face as he hefted a couple of the bags which Kyle had seemed to lift so easily. Kyle followed him upstairs with Patricia trailing behind. Casey was straining and out of breath by the time he reached the top. ?Too much loafing about!? his father would have said to describe his summer and it was the only explanation he could think of as to why he was so out of shape. All his muscles in his arms, stomach, legs, shoulder and even his chest seemed to burn like they hadn't even existed to begin with. Casey turned left at the upstairs hallway and left again through the guest room door, opting to drag the bags inside. Once in he released them, plopped face-first onto the bed and let out a muffled gasp into the pillows, expecting the adults to be right behind him. He waited a pause, then two. They didn't enter. Casey tilted his head to look at the door. He heard their hushed voices just outside. He couldn't quite make out the words but they sounded innocent enough, like old friends catching up. His mother had never told Casey she had been sleeping with Kyle ? if there was an unspoken Jones family rule it was to never discus anything that private. But Casey had known. He knew almost immediately, how the two would seemingly play hide-and-seek each night deciding which room they would use before retiring back to their own bedrooms. Or how simple, intimate things like a kiss on the forehead or walking into the bathroom with the other became all-at-once commonplace. Casey had also been able to tell when it had ended but he was glad Kyle still came around and that he and his mom could be friends. To him the adult's voices outside still sounded like they retained a little of their former intimacy. Casey craned his neck until he could see a face through the crack in the door. It was his mom's and she was smiling. Casey saw more than heard her mouth the words, ?I missed you,? to Kyle. Then a blur of words followed from her lips. They were too fast to read completely but he was pretty sure he caught her saying, ?We're glad you could stay,? and, ?It's been too long.? There was a pause. His mom's face lit up but didn't appear to be saying anything. Just when Casey thought their talk might be over and began to get up he noticed another reply from his mother that seemed to be some sort of mix between ?come by more often? and ?stay longer.? Patricia then reached a hand out and placed it tenderly on Kyle's arm. Casey scooted back until he could see Kyle's face in profile. It was harder to read Kyle's words from that vantage point but as Kyle talked and Casey strained for a better angle he unmistakably saw Kyle as he said, ?Yeah, that's a good kid you have there.? They were talking about him! Kyle's words became smaller and his voice more hushed that Casey lost them entirely. What's he saying! What's he saying! Casey thought as his heart fluttered and skipped. He inched back to see what his mom was saying but at the same moment Kyle reached his hand up to brush a bit of hair from her forehead. Kyle slid it down until it cradled her cheek, just as one might do before pulling someone in for a kiss. The arm blocked Casey's view of his mother's mouth and he couldn't hear anything. Outside of the room the two adults had fallen silent. They had fallen into their natural rhythm quickly, like they had never been apart, when the conversation turned suddenly to their past relationship and to the baby that had almost been. Things may have turned out very differently if that child had not been stillborn. Though heartbreaking initially, Patricia knew it was for the best as she never wanted to tie down a man who loved her but was not in love with her. She was glad now that their friendship had stayed close and indeed now it seemed like they had never been closer. Still, as they stood there Patricia's insides stirred. Kyle was a more tender person than her husband and had proved to be an infinitely more tender lover. During sex he would wrap his arms around her even as he thrust into her and that made her want to be all the more close to him, to have him more inside her. Due to this simple connection they had when lovemaking, and also due to the fact that Kyle was much larger than her husband, Patricia had been able to feel it as his tip would glide across every inch of her insides, feel it as he pressed against the fleshy resistance that was her cervix and even as those insides yielded to allow him all the way into her womb. Such was it like on the night they had gotten her pregnant. Casey's insides were stirring as well at that moment. He felt that needy feeling in his groin and inside him the puberty of a normal female girl marched on with their changes to his own womb, his own cervix and all the things that could allow him to get pregnant one day. Patricia hadn't pulled away from Kyle's touch ? indeed it would have been normal for any woman who wanted to just be friends with a man to do so. Instead she took his hand in hers and kissed it. They parted. Patricia walked away and Kyle entered the room. ?Sorry for the wait,? Kyle said. ?Your mom and I had a lot of catching up to do.? ?That's okay,? Casey said shyly. The wound that had been created when Casey had rubbed himself off into orgasm hadn't healed. He had noticed it soon after the session with Betsy had ended, a bit of missing skin not that much different then the gash that was left when a mole was removed. The hole was right at the nape of where his crotch and penis met. Casey had quickly learned to be careful when inspecting this area and not to touch it directly as it was ultra-sensitive. He had accidentally done that the same night after Betsy left and hadn't been able to help himself from repeating what he had done at her side. He had rubbed the flesh there, hard and long, until his body heaved in release. Casey didn't know that this repeat performance had made the opening just a little bit longer, a little bit wider. It was now big enough that Casey could fit a small fingertip inside. This at least he would have been able to see. What he wouldn't have been able to see however was how much the flesh beneath the scar had been changing. ?I know about you and my mom,? Casey said at once. This spurred an awkward silence and for a moment Kyle could only look at him. When he did respond it was at least partially due to the hint of sadness he thought he had heard in Casey's voice. ?You know I love your mother,? he said plainly. It didn't have the effect he intended. Casey rolled his eyes and rolled in bed away from him, curling up defensively. ?Hey, hey! I didn't mean it to sound like that. Your mom is just really important to me and I wanted you to know that. The truth is I love both of you. I really don't know what I'd do without you.? Casey didn't respond but his posture seemed to open a little. ?Enough with the serious talk for today, I promise,? Kyle said, clapping his hands. Then as he rubbed them together he added, ?Mind if I change and take a shower? It's been a long trip and a long day.? If Kyle had meant for an answer he didn't wait long enough for Casey to give one. He reached into one of his bags and began pulling out some toiletry items. Casey finally rolled back over. ?Why didn't you and mom get married?? Casey asked as he turned back to gauge Kyle's reaction. He had been about to add, ?Did something happen?? but paused. Kyle had removed his shirt and Casey was transfixed at the sight of the hair and muscle there. So unlike my chest, he thought. ?It's complicated,? Kyle replied, removing his pants. It had been a long time since Kyle had had sex. Casey's mother had been his last in fact. So the physical response he had from seeing Patricia again was expected. While he was comfortable enough with Casey to change in the same room, he wasn't that comfortable and so he turned to hide his erection. Casey's body had been faced with starting from the beginning with his female sex organs, not unlike a newborn. It had quickly made up for lost time. His vaginal canal had expanded considerably. It still didn't have the girth needed to accommodate even the most modest male equipment but it also had begun to develop complex notches and ridges inside that were waiting there to give both Casey and a future partner pleasure. Deeper still an underdeveloped cervix lay in front of an underdeveloped uterus. The cervix has yet to develop all the glands and flesh it would eventually gain and was nowhere near being able to open. Casey's uterus was no more than a stack of papers thick and no wider perhaps than a peach pit but it had woken up from its nap and had started to stretch out. The glands inside Casey, glands responsible for the lubrication of his female sex, has begun to flow with moisture. As there was only one, tiny outlet for these juices to go, they pooled and rushed out of Casey's tiny scarred opening until he at once felt the pinprick of dampness there. He blushed brightly and turned suddenly to inspect his shorts right as Kyle pulled down his briefs. There it was, a small dot of moisture darkening on the cloth surface above Casey's crotch. That's weird, Casey thought, did I just pee a little? He turned back and Kyle had already wrapped his waist in a towel. It wasn't entirely a conscious awareness, just as it wasn't entirely unconscious. Casey both knew and didn't know he had begun to awaken as a woman as he thought, Kyle was just naked right in front of me. Casey couldn't explain why that mattered, nor why he suddenly wanted Kyle to come closer to the bed. His legs opened slightly at the thought. Kyle hadn't noticed and Casey was embarrassed when he realized Kyle had been talking the whole time. Kyle was looking at him now, he had just asked him a question. Casey didn't want Kyle to think he hadn't been listening so he answered, ?I don't know.? ?You don't know? Well, what are you wearing now? Briefs?? Casey looked at him blankly until Kyle dangled the white briefs in front of him. Understanding finally dawned on him. Did Kyle seriously just ask me if I like boxers or briefs? Casey wondered. He thought of how his boxers slid around him, always loose and rubbing his sensitive parts. He looked at Kyle and saw how his briefs accented every curve, every bulge. ?Briefs!? Casey all but shouted, suddenly feeling stupid. ?I mean, I'm wearing boxers but I think I prefer briefs. That is, I don't remember wearing them but I think I would like them better.? Casey said all this rapidly, his heartbeat roaring in his chest. What is wrong with me? ?Easy, kid. It was just playful banter. Anyway, I'm going to hop in the shower. You sure you're feeling alright?? Kyle turned and opened the door to the connected half-bath. As he did his towel slid. Kyle caught it but not before it shown off the top of his ass. Casey's sex pulsed once more and let out more of its juices. He at first tried to shut his legs tight but a wave of pleasure seized him and his knees shook then opened and his legs kicked like he was swimming. The dark patch on his shorts grew. Shakily, Casey's voice responded to Kyle's question and quickly, before Kyle could turn around and see him. ?Yeah,? and hoped Kyle didn't notice that another wave had hit him as he said it. Finally, Kyle was inside the bathroom and Casey heard the click of the lock. Casey paused a second at first but he knew what needed to happen. His chest was both heaving and out of breath. He felt an ache-like-void behind his sternum and the urging followed all the way into his stomach which seemed to churn. More so though was the burning need below his waist, in between his thighs. Like an addict needing a fix, he needed sexual release and soon. Casey waited as long as he dared. He could hear the shower running inside the bathroom. He slid down on the bed and pulled his knees up high, almost to his shoulders. Then he tugged on the elastic of his shorts and boxers. They rode up his legs until he could inspect his penis. It was limp. That seemed impossible, he was so horny. Casey also saw that the wet mess inside his boxers was a hundred times worse on the inside. They were positively soaked. Casey didn't care about that at the moment, at least it didn't smell too bad and even smelled a little sweet. Kyle would only be in the shower for a few minutes and he needed to have an orgasm ? needed to cum, as Betsy called it. Casey grabbed his penis. Normally it would have at least filled the width of his hand but he found that only his pinky and ring finger held onto anything. He shrugged, figuring it was just because he wasn't hard. He jerked himself up and down in quick, successive strokes. ?Come on, come on,? he muttered. Moments ago, despite Kyle's best efforts, Casey had noticed the tenting in Kyle's briefs. No doubt a reaction from being with his mother. Casey wondered if Kyle was inside the shower stroking his penis like he was at this very moment. Kyle at least didn't seem to have a problem getting an erection. Almost whimpering now, Casey pleaded with his own genitalia. ?Come on, I need this. I'm so horny. I have to cum!? ?What was that?? Kyle called out from inside the bathroom. Casey wasn't sure if it was the thought of Kyle in the shower or Kyle's voice that had triggered it but immediately his penis responded and twitched. The whole area ? not just his penis but everything between his legs ? seemed to flush with the warmth of blood rushing to it. ?Nothing!? Casey shouted back, a bit startled. ?Sorry, I thought I heard you say something,? Kyle said and began humming in the shower. Another swell of blood seemed to flow into his crotch and with it came that familiar building sensation. No, Casey thought, No, it can't be, and he looked down at his warming sex. I can't be getting turned on now, not from Kyle. I'm not gay. Casey was as sure about this last statement as he had been about anything. He knew what gay sex was, his father had once more-or-less described it using less-than-kind words. Although Casey didn't agree with his dad's beliefs on the topic at all, he nonetheless found the practice of gay sex, or at least gay sex between two men, something of a turn off. ?If you do want to talk while I'm in here,? Kyle said suddenly, ?feel free. I live alone so I honestly wouldn't mind a little chatter.? ?Are you seeing anyone?? Casey blurted out the question before he could stop himself. Casey was in a fever of need. It's okay, he told himself, if this turns me on, I mean. Being around Kyle, there must be a rational explanation. I just have to cum and it will be just this one time. Casey slowly began to play with his penis again, only this time spinning it in slow, soft circles like when he had imitated Betsy. Kyle didn't seem to mind and answered immediately, ?Me? No!? he said and laughed a little. Kyle's voice cascaded musically as it echoed inside the tiled walls. At the same time Casey's juices burst forth once more. Kyle asked, ?What about you? Seeing anyone special?? ?No!? Casey shouted as he felt the moisture welling up underneath him. Casey looked down. It definitely hadn't come from his penis, he was still holding it in his hand and it felt dry enough. Where is all this coming from, he wondered, looking at his mess of boxers and shorts, is it just sweat? Casey did feel really warm. Sweat was beading everywhere on his body now but he didn't think he could sweat that much. I wonder... ?So my mom was the last person you were with?? Casey said, trying to change the subject. Casey pushed his slightly stiff penis aside and saw his scar open beneath it. It did look dewed with a liquid but that certainly wasn't blood seeping out of it. Kyle hadn't heard the question but had been saying something else. Casey caught up with the conversation as Kyle said, ?It's okay either way. After all, at your age..? Casey couldn't quite hear him, there was some mutters inside the bathroom. Casey was taken to inspecting his wound with apt curiosity. It could be infected, that might be the reason for the messiness, he thought. He noticed the flesh to the inside of each leg had puffed out like two small hills, forming rounded mounds of flesh to either side of his scar line. It certainly looked infected. He had no way of knowing that it was perfectly normal for a woman's labia, his labia, to become engorged with blood and puff out like that. Casey thought he heard Kyle say something like, ?still developing,? and again Kyle was muttering. Kyle's voice was breaking up in the spray of the shower. ?What?? Casey called out. He hadn't meant to sound so frustrated but so far nothing Casey had done had gotten him any closer to cumming and if anything the urge had only gotten worse. Kyle asked him another question through the spray of the showers. ?I don't know...? Casey said, meaning to say I don't know what you're saying but he was cut off as his body cramped with urges once more. ?No,? was all that Kyle heard. Casey's fingertips pressed lightly to each side of the hole in the scar. In many ways the hole seemed to have formed out from his scar, at it's tip. It was as if his scar had began to come undone. He pushed gently with his fingers until the sides began to pull apart. Inside he saw what looked like normal skin, which was good he supposed and maybe it was going to scab over soon. Only the layers of flesh beneath seemed to be rising up instead of together. It had a look not unlike the layers of a jacket with his scar extending like a zipper. Casey was very careful. He knew what would happen if he wasn't careful and he was actually a little scared. As he hesitated though, his body had redoubled its desire. Careful was the last thing his covered, waiting pussy needed right now. ?I didn't mean to get too personal. I wasn't sure you wanted to talk about stuff like that.? Casey had no idea what Kyle was talking about. Had Kyle thought he had said something else? But Kyle only continued with the thought and realization dawned on Casey about what he had been saying this whole time. ?I don't mean to push. Was it something you wanted to talk about? It's okay to be a virgin, if you are I mean.? Sex? Were we talking about sex? Casey panicked but in his panic he had released the skin around his wound, the lips around the tip of his vaginal opening. The tip of his forefinger was still there and it became quickly encased in the closing flesh. The involuntary reaction of this was for Casey to flick his finger, like one might do if a bug landed on it. In Casey's case his finger only stuck more inside the clamped flesh and the flicking motion sent an electrified shock everywhere. Every muscle in his crotch clamped down in a weird, pulling sensation and the shock sent a spasm that traveled up his spine, arching his back. ?Yes!? Casey shouted. Through the bathroom walls, what would have sounded like a shrieking affirmation sounded only like a normal answer to Kyle. He was washing his hair now which meant both of them had even more trouble hearing the other. This also meant that Kyle was almost done. If Casey wasn't careful, in a few minutes Kyle would come out of the bathroom to see Casey on the bed rubbing what appeared to be his pussy. Kyle wasn't sure which question Casey had answered. ?Yes?? Kyle repeated. ?You mean, yes, you haven't had sex?? Kyle had tried to repeat himself, tried to say that it was okay but got a mouthful of soap. To Casey it had sounded like Kyle had said something like, ?Do you want to have sex?? which was impossible. To his hormone-added brain it didn't matter. Casey had been rubbing his pussy, even if he didn't know it. His finger now inside his vagina, if only a quarter inch, he couldn't help it. ?Yes!? Casey cried. Casey needed to cum, no matter what. While his big finger lay clamped between flesh his three smaller fingers found their way into the valley that had formed between his labia. This is where his true pussy would have been were it not for the thin scar which bridged the gap. ?What?? Kyle called back. The scar was indeed thin, too. Dr. Etski had done the job well but had ensured it was only a layer of