Birth of a New Dawn Part Three
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Birth Of A New Dawn Part Two free porn video
Birth of a New Dawn Part Two
By Heather St. Claire
(A couple of you asked for a sequel. I am to please!--Heather)
Two years ago tomorrow, I was transformed from a man into a woman. I went
from Don to Dawn in an instant. If you read the first part of my story
("Birth of a New Dawn") you'll understand the how and the why. I was your
typical clueless, self-centered guy, and unfortunately, or maybe
fortunately, I'm still trying to decide which one, I ran afoul of an
angry girlfriend and the most literal-minded magic statue ever.
So I was your ordinary twenty-five year old guy then; now, more or less,
I'm a normal twenty-seven year old woman. Has it been hard? Well, I can't
get hard any more, if that's what you're asking...the old plumbing's gone.
But I know that's not what you meant. Yeah, there have been rough
moments, but I've made it through more or less in one piece and more or
less sane. I can thank Brittany, the best friend a guy or girl could
have, for most of that.
Oh, one other thing kept me anchored. Sex. Yeah, call me shallow, but I
loved to fuck when I was a guy, so you shouldn't be surprised that I love
to get fucked as a girl.
One of the joys of womanhood is that I'm bisexual. When I was a guy, the
thought of having another guy pack my fudge gave me the willies. But now,
I love girl-on-girl action just about as much as girl-on-guy.
It didn't take long, about eleven hours in fact, for Brittany and me to
explore the pleasures of lezzy sex. I changed bodies while Brit was away,
spending the week at her parents'. I picked her up at the bus station at
11 a.m, and it wasn't until about ten that night that we tumbled into the
sack together, after putting down a couple of bottles of wine and
smoking...well, I'm not sure how much weed we smoked.
As much of a haze as my mind was in, I remember I was in tears as I said,
"Just hold me, please, Brit. Just hold me." She wrapped her arms around
me, and before I knew it, we were kissing. It was like before, only
different. Better. Girl on girl, we were in synch in a way we had never
been before. I have to admit I was the typical guy who lived to get his
rocks off, roll over, and go to sleep. I tried to fake interest in
foreplay, but I was almost always too eager for the main event to waste
much time on the preliminaries.
Now I learned how wonderful those opening rounds could be.
We had been kissing for a while when Brittany ran her fingertip up and
down my sternum, in the chasm between my ample boobs. Then her finger
circled each breast, slowly, lovingly finding its way to the nipple,
which she caressed ever so slowly, first with the lightest of touches,
then with increasing friction. When she took a rock-hard nipple into her
mouth, I thought I was going to pass out from the pleasure at that very
moment. But we were just getting started.
She teased my labia with her dancing fingers, and then raced around to my
backside. Gentle strokes across my fanny gave way to slaps, and I felt my
arousal escalating wildly. After what seemed like an endless amount of
teasing, she finally returned to my slit. This time she entered me; this
time I was ready. I shivered with anticipation and delight as she glided
into me. She zeroed in the lovely petal of my flower, and I instantly
knew that while I had loved watching lesbian porn as a guy, actually
being a partner in in was much, much more satisfying.
---
Brittany started dating guys again after a couple of months, and I put
myself on the market as well. But while Brit seemed to be looking for a
guy she could get serious about, I was just looking for as much variety
as I could experience. Well, can you blame a girl? Suppose you were,
like, eighty years old and just tasted ice cream for the first time?
Would you have vanilla every single day for the rest of your life, or
would you want to try as many flavors as you could?
It all seemed harmless enough until the night I was raped. I think. To
this day, I don't know what happened, and it's my own fault.
I met this hot-blooded Italian guy at the Anchor. His name was Dario and
he said he was a mechanic on the docks, and had just moved to town. He
was pouring one screwdriver after another down me, and I actually don't
remember a thing until the next morning, when I woke up next to him in
bed. I was naked. My clothes were in a pile on the floor, but my purse
was missing. I had the most hellacious hangover you could imagine, and my
pussy was sore. I had been through more than a few wild rounds of sex,
but I had never felt like this before.
What really alarmed me was when I found I had a swollen cheek, a black
eye and a couple of loose teeth. When I asked the mechanic what the hell
had happened to me, he swore up one side and down the other that I had
passed out, fallen, and slammed my face into the coffee table. He wasn't
sure if it was before or after we had sex.
When I got home and told Brit what had happened, she was furious. Not at
me, like I expected, but at the mechanic. "Brittany," I said. "This is my
own fault. My stupidity."
"Damn it, Dawn. Rape is never acceptable. No matter how drunk you are, no
matter how revealing your outfit is. Haven't you ever heard, 'No means
no?'"
"I know," I said through tears of anger and shame. "I know. But I honest
to God don't know if I ever said no or not." It was a sobering
experience, in more ways than one. I had been more than spotty in taking
my birth control bills, so I made sure to have Brit pick up Plan B at the
local Walgreens along with a new bottle of Tylenol.
That was Time to Grow up Girl lesson number one. Lesson two came the very
next week, which I will always remember as the week of my mother's breast
cancer scare.
One of the byproducts of my change has been a much closer relationship
with my mother. My dad died when I was seven, and mom basically raised me
by herself. She didn't even date for six years after that, and didn't get
married again until I was seventeen. Unfortunately the bastard cheated on
her, stole what little money she had, and skipped out.
God, men can be such bastards. Yeah, I get the irony.
She's kept putting herself out there, but now that she's past fifty, it's
getting tougher. Guys her own age are more interested...well, in women my
age. In fact, one of the shitheels that dumped my mother after three
dates actually had the nerve to call me and ask me to lunch.
I think his ears are still ringing from the "Fuck off!" I screamed into
the phone.
After that, I went out and got a new tattoo. When I'm angry or sad I
usually go shopping or get a tat. I used to get drunk, but the incident
with the mechanic kind of put me off getting out of control drunk.
Anyway. About mom. She called me the Tuesday after my fiasco with the
mechanic to say that she had found a lump on her breast and she had a
mammogram scheduled two days later, and would I please, please come with
her? The poor woman never asked anything from me, so of course I said
yes. Brittany agreed to cover for me at the coffee drive-through where we
both worked and I made the hour drive to the city where my mother lived.
In hopes of keeping the battle to a minimum, I wore faux leather leggings
and a long-sleeved blouse. But I couldn't cover everything up.
I assumed, correctly, that she mostly just needed company and a shoulder
to cry on. Of course when she saw me she couldn't help but express her
disapproval of the new flower design I had recently had tattooed on my
neck. She shook her head and said, "Honey, what are you going to do when
you run out of bare skin?"
Actually, that was pretty mild for her. She must have been more worried
about the mammogram than she was letting on. If she wasn't expressing her
disapproval of my latest tat, it was my newest skimpy outfit that was the
target of her disapproval. Hey, we live in a warm climate, and I figure
if you've got it, flaunt it. Especially when it helps fill the tip jar.
"It's not a hell of a lot of fun to get your boob mashed between two
pieces of glass," she told me matter-of-factly as she finished her
cigarette at the smoking shack on the edge of the parking lot. "You're
what, twenty-five, honey?"
"Twenty-six."
"Well then. You don't have to worry about this for another fourteen
years. Unless of course this proves to be the real thing. Then your doc
might want to get you started on mammograms sooner."
I crushed out my own cig. "I can hardly wait," I said. This was all still
more than a little surreal. As far as my mother remembered, I had always
been her little girl Dawn. The whole world only seemed to remember Dawn.
It was as if Don had never existed. Except for Brittany.
We never figured out why Brit remembered the old me. Maybe because it was
her wish that had changed me. We even tried having her give me the statue
to see if we could get three more wishes out of it, but no go. Maybe the
magic in was all used up. I guess we'll never know.
I held mom's hand for as long as I could. I drove back when she found out
the results of the mammogram were inconclusive and the doc wanted to do a
needle biopsy. When that turned out positive, I was there again when she
underwent her lumpectomy. Fortunately, she had caught it at about the
earliest possible moment, but from now on, she would always carry around
the label, breast cancer survivor.
It's for her that I entered the Race for the Cure that year, and I'm
going to be in it this year too.
All of this got me thinking about my future. Like what the hell I was
going to do with it.
I was also starting to get a little choosier with the men I slept with. A
couple of months after my great change, Brit and I decided to set up
separate bedrooms. I moved into my former Man Cave, which was redundant
now since I wasn't a man any longer. I was in the habit of bringing guys
home, which was fine with Brit, and she liked to sample the goods a lot
of the time, but sometimes she just wanted to sleep, and I couldn't blame
her, especially when she had the morning shift at the shack. We still
spent most nights together, but this gave us each a degree of privacy.
I didn't worry until Brittany brought a guy home and made it clear she
didn't want to share. His name was Steve, and he was a real estate agent
who drives a nice Mercedes convertible. I hate to admit it, but whatever
part of Don that was still alive inside this big-boobed, big hipped body
was jealous. Jealous that this guy could give her what I no longer could;
jealous that I was losing my lover and friend. My feminine intuition was
right when a first date led to a second date. And a third. And several
more after that.
The realization that Brittany was forging a new relationship made me take
stock of what I had with her. I found it more than a little ironic that
getting turned into a female had made me a much better lover and friend
to her. I didn't just hang out with her a fuck her, I listened to her. I
really listened, and I supported her in every way that I could.
I can see what relationships between guys are all about now that I am no
longer one. It's all about proving that you can score more points, you
root for the better team or who can lay the hotter chick. With women, it
really is different. We don't have to be better than our friends. We
can...just be there for them, and know that they will always be there for
us. There are days (usually when my period arrives) that I curse that
damn statue for what it did to me, but there are other days when I'm
actually thankful for it.
I think I'm a better person as a gal than a guy. There are a lot of days
when I'm still not really proud of myself, but I think I'm getting
better. I'm a smarter, more mature person every day. I better be. I'm
going to become a business owner any day now.
Kayla's husband is being transferred, and she put the Coffee Shack up for
sale. As soon as she told me the news, I knew this was my future. I had
been kicking around all kind of ideas. I think I was most serious about
going to cooking school, but I couldn't see going a hundred grand or more
in debt.
I went to the local Small Business Development Center, and they helped me
put together a business plan, but I ran into a blank wall when I went to
banks seeking financing. Funny thing. They don't want to loan you money
unless you can prove you don't need it.
Aunt Connie to the rescue. As you may have gathered, I have two sets of
memories--Don's and Dawn's. Aunt Connie is actually my mother's aunt, so
she's technically my great aunt, and in my history as Don, we didn't have
a lot to do with each other than a few strained hugs at Thanksgiving and
Christmas. But it was a different story with Dawn. It seems like she's
always adored Dawn, but has been concerned about my unfulfilled
potential. Mom suggested I see if Connie would be willing to help me out.
So I put on a nice, grey pinstriped suit (of course the skirt was short
and it still hugged my curves), sheer black tights, and modest pumps. I
laid out the business plan for her, delivered my spiel, sat back and held
my breath. Aunt Connie's late husband was a successful doctor, and to say
he left her comfortably well off would have been an understatement.
"Oh, child, this is wonderful," she said. I breathed a huge sigh of
relief. The one thing that had worried me was my plan to rebrand the
place. Coffee stands are a dime a dozen these days, and the national and
regional chains are squeezing out the independents at an accelerating
pace. I decided there was only one way to survive: T and A.
"My marketing plan calls for us to rebrand ourselves as Cowgirl
Espresso," I told Aunt Connie, handing her a picture of me in front of
the shack wearing cowgirl boots, pink leather hot pants and a skimpy
silver bikini top. She stared long and hard at the photo, then looked up
at me and said, "If I was only forty years younger, I'd ask you for a
job."
I gave her a big hug when she told me she was willing to finance the
whole deal. Not as a gift of course, but as a no-interest loan, which I
told her was an offer far more generous than I imagined. She hugged me
tightly, then gave my girls a long, careful appraisal. She gave my left
boob a playful squeeze, something you don't expect from your elderly
great aunt, and said, "Take good care of these, darling. They're business
assets now." I laughed and promised her that I would.
This is a really big day for me for more than one reason. I'll be signing
the papers with Kayla at her lawyer's office at 10, to make the deal
official. After that, I'm heading to Wanda's Bridal for my first fitting
for a bridesmaid's dress. Brittany is getting married, so I'm not only
loving a lover and roommate, I'm also losing my best barista.
But I will carry on. I'm a strong woman. That's what strong women do.
It's been a heck of a ride these past two years....but I think the fun is
just beginning.
The End
Makenna
- 13.08.2022
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