The Love Song Of The Incredible Hulk free porn video

The Love Song of the Incredible Hulk (revised) The first thing you notice is the shoulders. They are like rocks stacked on boulders. They are Atlas' shoulders. Thor's shoulders. Muscle Beach shoulders.They are swollen and pronounced and able to move all the weights on this side of the room to all of the weights on that side. Then there are the arms. They are Superman's arms. Thing's arms. They are pythons and boas and anacondas. They are pro wrestler's arms, and at first glance, you'd swear that they could put the entire world into a sleeper hold. Then there are the legs. The legs are tree trunks. A thousand squats forced those legs. They could trample a bystander. There is no tapering as you go from the huge thighs to the bulging calves. Ah, my wife. I love her so. If you pay attention to professional body-building, you may have heard of Teresa "Hulk" Matthews, the best weightlifter-bodybuilder on the national circuit. Everyone calls her Terri. She would have made the last Olympics if she had not torn a bicep which, frankly, I wouldn't have thought possible. Who was mean enough to tear her bicep? I'm Manny Rivers. I work as an assistant book editor at Jenson Brothers publishing. It isn't a great job, but it pays the bills. As a bodybuider, Terri doesn't bring in a lot of cash, you know? I met Terri at a weightlifting competition. I was an usher, and I had never seem a more awesome sight. Terri is 6-2 and 205 pounds, and she has muscles stacked on muscles stacked on muscles. I know, I know. A lot of guys don't like bigger women. They're intimidated and feel their muscles are too manly. Why does a muscle have to be manly? I think a well-built woman, strong and bold, is one of God's most gorgeous creatures. I marvel at bodybuilders, who are about definition and beauty as compared to, say, weightlifters. A bodybuilder striking a pose, her oiled body shining in the spotlight, takes my breath away. Because of her lifting, and partially because of the supplements she takes, her breasts are small. But she's a woman. No mistaking that. And, yes, she is strong. If you need the back end of a car lifted, she's your girl. Now, bodybuilding and weightlifting are different sports, but most of the athletes do both. The weightlifting lets them train for bodybuilding, and vice-versa. Terri is also the sweetest person you know and, frankly, I like her size. There is a gentle soul buried in that huge body. I brought her a Powerade after his competition in Cincinnati that day, and she smiled the nicest smile. She asked me to dinner, and with butterflies in my stomach, I accepted. Besides, I wouldn't have to worry about muggers on the way to the restaurant. I liked her from the start. She's funny, and she's smart, and she's sexy. We get too caught up on physical attributes. This guy is bald so I can't date him, and that woman is heavy, and that guy wears glasses and that woman has a tiny mustache. This guy isn't tall enough and that woman has an overbite and that guy is black and that woman is Asian and that guy is Hispanic and that woman is flat-chested. But Terri was perfect. She had straight teeth and dancing eyes and short blonde hair, and her laugh was like a wind chime. She was just super-sized. She was the Hulk. I blinked as I walked into O'Malley's, the fern bar. Terri was sitting with a bunch of our friends at a big, circular table in the middle of the room. They were laughing loudly, and everyone was talking at once. I recognized Terri from her muscular back, the bulges rippling in the artificial light. She was wearing a sleeveless blue t-shirt. Her shirt from Gold's Gym. She was wearing a Cincinnati Reds' cap. I walked up to the table and put my hand on her defined arm. She looked at me and smiled. "It's the little woman!" she said, loud as if her voice was fueled by a few too many beers. I blushed. I slapped her on the arm. "Hey, it's the wife," Glory Andrews, a friend of ours, added. And it went that way, our usual game of calling me by feminine pronouns and Terri by masculine ones. "You look great today, Mrs. Matthews," Nick, her husband, said. "Order a drink,"Joy said. "It's ladies' night." As usual, I just tried to endure it. I knew that Terri dwarfed me physically. I'm 5-7 and 145 pounds. Someone once said that if I sat on her lap, it looked like she was doing a ventriloquist's act. My brown hair was longish because she liked it. I had pierced ears because she asked me to get them. "Hello, husband," I said to Terri. I often tried to join in the banter and turn it around on my wife too. But no one laughed as loud when I made a joke. They seemed to enjoy ganging up on me and giving me grief. "Big bra sale at Macy's," said Nancy Johnson. "A girl needs her pretties." "Okay, okay," I said. "Enough." "Oh, don't get your panties in a wad," Linc said. "Shh. She might be on her period," Glory said. "We understand, girlfriend. The cramps are death." "You guys are as funny as a cancer ward," I said. "Now, how did training go?." "It was good," Terri said. "It was a definition day. I did curls, mainly." "Well, I definitely think it worked. You're amazing," I said. I leaned in, and we kissed each other lightly. "Get a room," Randy said. "Speaking of which, Manny. Does Terri have a big dick?" Terri raised her hand, as if to call for silence, and the ribbing came to a gentle stop. We fell into casual conversation, about Trump, about the wall, about Bruce on Broadway, about Captain Marvel, about weightlifting, about the way The Walking Dead fizzled out, about Game of Thrones. It was the easy conversation of old friends. We talked about Glory's pregnancy, about Joy's new boyfriend, about Randy's new job. Halfway through the night, Terri put her hand on the small of my back. She smiled at me. "My wife," she said. "I think I'll keep her." * * * A week later, we were back at O'Malley's. More beer. More talk. The difference was that, this time, it was by birthday. You can imagine the attempts at humor. The gang toasted any feminine cells in my body. Everyone is a comedian, aren't they? When the presents came out, everyone used the same joke. Glory bought me a nightgown. Linc got me earrings. Nick got me bras and panties. Tony got me a makeup kit. Nancy bought me perfume. Joy bought me a purse. Terry bought me women's ruby ring. I shook my head. This was silly, but it was fun. I tried to play along. Good thing I can take a joke...or a million. "I was going to get you Tampons," Glory said, sticking out her tongue at me. The waiter brought out a cake, with pink icing. "Not too much," Nancy said. "It goes right to a girl's ass." "You can blow out the candles," Terri said. "Yeah," Linc said. "Accent on the word 'blow.'" Instead of Happy Birthday, they all sang "Girls Just Want to Have Fun." They lifted their glasses. "To the best damn wife a powerlifter ever had." Nancy yelled. "You need to be serenaded, girlfriend," Linc said. And he began to warble "She is woman, hear her roar." "She is woman," Joy said. "Hear her bitch out her man." And that set off a round of comments about songs that could be about me. I was Santana's Black Magic Woman. I was Aretha's Natural Woman. I was the Guess Who's American Woman. I was Shania Twain's Man, I Feel Like a Woman. They laughed, and joked, and the room got louder. It was a great time by all. I was 29 years old, and for my birthday my friends thought I was a chick. And then they were singing again, and glancing at Terri and them me. "When a man loves a woman...." I wondered. Was it all a gag, or somewhere, did someone in the gang wonder if I was effeminate? Or if I was the girl in our relationship. But I decided to keep treating it like a joke. I cooed and tucked my hands into my chest. "I feel pretty," I sang. Everyone laughed. "Hey, Terri," Nick yelled, as he grabbed cake. "Does the wife bake?" "Hell," Terri said. "My wife doesn't even buy girl scout cookies. She doesn't make reservations. Everyone else gets a sissy who cooks and cleans. I get one who watches soap operas." She laughed. She reached out and grabbed my hand. I might have said something about the sissy comment. But on my left ring finger, I had absent-mindedly slipped on the ruby. **' When we got home, Terri pushed me onto the couch. She was a little buzzed, and we never made it past the living room. Now, Terri made love the way lifted weights; she attacked. She climbed on top of me, straddling me, kissing me passionately. Again, she was a woman; but she made love like a linebacker. "Happy birthday, baby," she whispered. "I love my woman." It probably won't surprise you, as strong as Terri is, but she normally took the dominant position in our love-making. Pretty much, she engulfed me, tossing me around, placing me just where she wanted me. When she wanted to me to perform cunnilingus, she simply took me. That might threaten some guys. Me, it thrilled.. She rode me hungrily, desperately. She grinded on me, making us both tumble onto the floor. We laughed. There in the darkened living room, she ran her fingers through my hair. She touched my lips. She stroked my face. "Why do you love me?" she said. "Because you're my big strong man," I said, stroking her bicep. I was trying to make her laugh. But Terri wasn't laughing. A tear was in her eye. "Seriously," Terri said. "Why? I know I'm a fucking freak. No one wants a woman who is built like Arnold. Everyone assumes I have a dick." "Hush," I said. "Terri, I love you. I've always loved you. And if they gave me a magic pill tomorrow that would make you 5-3 and 110 pounds, I wouldn't take it. Or give it you. Either one. I love you, sweetheart. I always will. And no one thinks you have a dick." She looked at me. "You're a good wife," she said. "I should buy you a new dress." I shook my head, grinning. "Why do you always have to go there? Am I that feminine?" "Well..." I pushed away from her. She threw her arm around me and pulled me back into her. I put my hand on her stomach. It felt like sheetrock. She kissed the top of my head. "Manny," she said softly, getting serious again. "I've never told you this. But when I was a girl, I was fat. Not a little fat. I was big as a house. I was Fat Albert fat. So I decided to get strong instead. The football coaches once tried to find a loophole where I could play, but I couldn't. Not in those days. Guys didn't like me. A girl did. A basketball player named Denise Edwards. But that didn't do it for me, either. So I joined a club. We called ourselves the Outcast Club. Gays, nerds, Trekkies, whatever. Well, there was this girl named Suzanne Jennings in the Outcast Club. She was so sweet to me. It was the first time I ever felt completely accepted." I listened. Finally, I asked. "What happened to her?" "Terri, Suzanne was biologically a boy. She was transgender. And she went on and had her operation. She didn't need a woman anymore. But I loved her when I had her. She changed my life. I just thought you ought to know that. "That's part of the reason I kid around and call you a girl. Because I would like it if you were. I love boys who transitioning into girls. They're so soft, so feminine. Then I fell in love with you and I thought you were fine as a husband. You have the biggest heart I've ever seen. You're small, and you're cute, and yeah, you're a little feminine. But I like that. It's not a bad thing." The room was quiet as she went on, speaking barely above a whisper. "Baby, I'm sorry if I've let the comments go on too long. We were having fun. But in all seriously, you fill a hole in me. Girl, boy, it doesn't matter. I love you for you. And you make me love me for me. I promise you. I'd love you if you were a girl, and I love you as a guy. That's the truth." I let her words pour over me. They touched me inside, the way she loved me unconditionally. I thought about Suzanne, and how she Terri happy. Maybe, deep down, I was a little like her. For Terri, for one night, I could be. Quietly, I got out of bed and padded to the pile of presents. I grabbed this one, and that one, and I went into the bathroom. I looked into the mirror a long time, trying to see me beyond my features. I put a bra on. i slid the nightgown over my head (Even I knew you didn't wear a bra with a nightie but I was trying to simulate breasts). I brushed my hair out as long as possible, then bunched it into pigtails. I applied lipstick. I sprayed perfume on myself. Then I walked out to be with my husband. * * I didn't say anything as I walked into the bedroom. She didn't, either. We just looked at each other, longingly. My nightgown flowed to my ankles, and my lipstick was visible in the dim light. My hair was too short, but with my earrings (yes, my ears are pierced. Guys do it all the time), I felt feminine. She certainly saw me that way. Her eyes showed her appreciation. I thought I might feel foolish, but I didn't. I felt glorious. Terri held the covers open for me. I slid in and kissed her on the mouth.She could taste my lipstick. "You don't have to..." she said. "Shut up," I said. I grinned. "Or I won't suck your dick." Of course, she didn't have a penis. But as I licked her, I kept whispering things like "it's so big" and "it's so hard" and "take me deeper." I asked her not to come in my hair. I told her I was kissing her balls. I I talked up the female role, and it turned her on like a spotlight. I invited her to "fuck her wife." The imagination of it all got to Terri. She was thrusting her hips up and down, bouncing on the mattress. She called me Molly instead of Manny. She rubbed my flat chest and said she wanted to kiss my titties. That was imagination, too. I didn't have breasts. Still, she traced my nipples. "I wish you had real boobies," she said. "They're as real as your dick," I said, grinning. "Speaking of which, are you on the pill?" Terri said. "I'm out of condoms, and I don't want to get you pregnant." We laughed. We loved. It was the best sex we ever had. It may have been the best sex anyone ever had. I'm not the biggest guy size-wise, but Terri jumped me like I was her own personal vibrator. Afterward. we cuddled. She ran her hands over my nightgown, softly, like the breath of a butterfly. "That was intense," I told her, kissing her again. "It was wicked, Molly" Terri said. "I loved it." "I love you. And for fifty bucks, we can do it again." She chuckled. "I'm a married man," she said. "You are," I said. "And I'm your wife. I just whore on weekends." * * The following day, Terri left early for the gym, and I went to work. But I had trouble paying attention to detail. I had worn a nightgown last night. I had worn lipstick. I had worn perfume. There should have been more shame than I felt, but I had also made my baby happy. It was worth it. It reminded me of the old roleplay nights back in college. We would dress up, and someone would invent a scenario, and we would ad-lib our way through it. It sounds dorky now, but it was fun to be someone you're not. But a woman? Me? Yes, I was glad I did it. Terri really seemed to like it. I had no regrets. But what now? How would she relate to me the following day? Would she bring it up? Would she want a repeat? Would she tell the gang? If they have made jokes that said I was female, what now? Would she be happy with me in jeans and a t-shirt after that? It would be an insult to transgender women for me to make believe that I went to bed as a guy one night and woke up wanting to be a woman. I knew that. But the hunger in Terri's eyes, the cautiousness of her touch, lingered with me. Maybe I wasn't a real transgender. But I loved Terri, and I would bend over backward to show her. Maybe I could try this for the weekend. No more. I wanted to make her happy. And hell, the clothes weren't bad. They were soft. They were colorful. They covered my body and the feel of them excited me. It was everyone else's viewpoint that scared me. They already thought I was girlish. Why not. I thought. Why not give Terri -- and, yeah, me -- a thrill? It would be a goof. It would be fun. Nothing long lasting. Right? I left work early that day, faking an illness. I went back to the condo and soaked in the tub. Inhaling deeply, I took a razor and began to shave. My legs. What was on my chest. My underarms. My pubic hair. I didn't have back hair, or butt hair, but I trimmed my forearms just to be sure. The silliness of it was soon replaced by the sensuality. I went to the mall. I had underwear, but I bought hose. I bought a makeup kit. I haltingly asked the saleswoman about shoes. "For you?" she said. "Yeah, it's a party I'm going to," I lied. "Lots of parties. Lots of guys in high heels going to them," she said, rolling her eyes to let me know she knew I was lying. "Yeah..." I said. "Do ou need a dress for this party," the saleswoman said. "Um, I do, in fact," I said, blushing. "Well, we have a good sale going on. Come on, girlie. I'll fix you up." * * * Later that day, I became a woman. Well, on the surface, anyway. I know what the stories all say. That this is often forced under the threat of an evil wife, or a conniving boss. But this was my decision. I took each step knowing what I was doing. When Terri talked about Suzanne, there was a yearning there. She really did like transgender girls. I could give her that for a few days. I bought a white dress with yellow flowers on it. I bought heels. I bought a pair of expensive breast forms. Then I went to the salon and bought the total package from hair to toenails. They did my makeup far beyond my abilities. Hey, the mirror was fooled, It made me look like a pretty girl. My hair was done in a nice feminine bob. My legs were killer. My eyes were seductive. I couldn't wait for Terri to see me. At dinner time, I walked into the fern bar as a woman. I could feel the guys around the place look at me, and I smiled as I crossed the room. Then, without fanfare, I walked to the round tackle where Terri and the gang sat. I leaned over and kissed her cheek. And all you could hear was the sound of jaws dropping. Terri's face lit up. She smiled wide enough to crack her face, and she reached out tentatively and touched my cheek. Terri broke into a wide smile as she looked me up and down. If the was what she wanted me to be, well, I'd try. "Thank you," she said softly. "You're gorgeous. Thank you." "My God," Nancy said. "Is there a fashion show in town? Where did this good-looking bitch come from?" "Get the lady drink," Nick yelled. "That's no lady," Terri said. "That's my wife." She laughed. Everyone recognized me, although it took a few a heartbeat longer than the others. The woman surrounded me, cooking and congratulation me for "coming out." The guys looked a little more confused and a lot less clingy. Terri beamed. At one point, Nancy grabbed my hand. "Come with me, girlfriend," she said. And she led me across the bar and into the women's restroom. I looked around cautiously. "Someone will say something," I said. She smiled. "No, they won't. No one can tell." She took me to the mirror and began to repair the makeup around my eyes. "It's too thick," she said. "Eye makeup is tricky." She redid my lipstick -- a dark red. What was it the commercials say? "The redder the better?" "Are you wearing a girdle?" she asked. "Um, no," I said, a little embarrassed at the question. "Well, a lot of women skip it in the summer time," she said. "But you should always wear one to enhance your figure. I'd buy at least 2-3 if I were you." "Um, Nancy. I don't know if I'm going to stay like this." "Liar," she said, laughing. "You know. You're a girl, Manny. Tell me. How does it feel?" "Well, it's okay." She grinned. "Tell me each thing you have on and how it feels." "Um, well. I have on panties. I guess they're nice. They're slick and they conform to my bottom. I have a constant, well, arousal The bra? It's stiff, but I love the way it wraps around me. I love the hose on my shaved legs.It feels like someone is rubbing my legs. I like the dress, especially the way it fits around my middle. The shoes are okay." Nancy look at my shoes. "You need heels with that dress," she said. "Nancy, I couldn't even stand on heels, let alone walk." "Then practice. Spend every minute at home in heels. But think about it. You like most of these clothes. They're softer and they're prettier and, dare I say, they're sexier. So go with it. Embrace your girl. Hell, when your hair grows, when your boobs grow -- if they do -- then the world will know anyway. Hell, this isn't when we grew up. No one is going to beat up behind the gym. If you want to be a girl, then you should be a girl. On one hand, I felt a bit awkward, being in public in a dress for the first time. But I felt pretty, too. On the other, I felt pretty. I crossed the room, and the eyes of the men followed me. Men looked at my legs, my (fake) breasts, my face. But you know what the best thing I had on? I had Terri's eyes all over me. * * I loved Terri's sweetness during the ensuing days. I loved the way she babied me. She would take my hand in public places. She would window shop for dresses -- never for her; always for me. The two weeks became four, which became three months, which became six. My wardrobe grew, and at Terri's insistence, I unleashed by girl side. I started taking estrogen pills. I expanded my wardrobe. I grew out my hair. Terri's love-making changed. She was still tender, but I learned to appreciate the feeling of being pegged. The first time she mounted me, wearing this dildo-like appendage she called a "packer" (female to male transgender men wear them all the time). No one likes anal intercourse at first, but I began to appreciate being penetrated. It brought Terri and I closer together. We began to role-play in earnest then. We joined an improv group, and we played, always with me as the female and her as the male. She was Tarzan (with breast coverage) and I was Jane (also with breast coverage). She was Romeo, and I was Juliet. She was Hamlet, and I was Ophelia. Terri was one of those take-charge people who make a game out of everything. With our private role-play in mind, she said, she bought handcuffs. She bought me a butt plug. She bought me a grotesque looking dildo. She bought me a ball gag. * * One night at O'Malley's, I was wearing a lavender dress and heels. Terri's arm was around me, and all was right with the world. I was just chilling with my guy, listen to the chatter about some baseball game. And then Linc was tapping my shoulder, and asking me to dance. I looked at Terri, and she shrugged. Then she turned and started talking about how baseball had gone to hell. Linc took my hand and led me to the dance floor. It was a slow number, an old song by Eric Clapton, and I put my arms around his neck. I had never danced with a man before, and it felt odd. Warm, but odd. Linc was a handsome man, black with a shaved head. He wasn't quite as tall as Terri, but he was six feet, and he had defined muscles. They weren't as big as Terri's, but his arms felt good. "I'm flattered you wanted to dance, Linc. I was surprised Terri didn't say anything, though." Linc laughed. "Whose idea do you think it was," he said. "Excuse me?" "Terri told me to ask you to dance," he said. "He thinks you should experience a lot of things now that you're a woman." "I'm not a woman, Linc. You know that. I'm just a guy in a. dress." "You haven't been paying attention," he said. "You're more and more female every day. You not only look like one, you carry yourself like one. You're as transgender as any woman has ever been." "Linc, have you ever met a ... transgender ... before," I said. "I'm feel like I'm a one-of-a-kind creature." He threw back his head and laughed at that. "Molly," he said. "You aren't even the only transgender in our group," he said. "I'm not?" I was confused. "Who? Tell me." Linc hesitated moment. "Nancy," he said. "Bullshit," I said. "She's my friend. And she's a woman. I could tell otherwise." Linc smiled. "She's not. Trust me." "But how would you now....ooooh." "Guilty," Linc said. "We went out for a while. It's how Terri knew I might be interested in you." He spun me, and he brought me into his body. And I felt it, pressing up against my stomach. It was hard and it was long and ... oh, my. It was his cock. Part of me wanted to back away, but it was flattering I could do that to a man. "Molly, you're a pretty girl," Linc said. "And if Terri thinks you should widen your experiences, I'd be flattered to help you." I was dumbfounded. I couldn't speak. I looked over and saw Terri watching us. She lifted her beer as a toast and smiled. There was no jealousy. There was just ... love. I walked over to her. "Terri, what's going on?" I said. "I don't need this." "Ah, Molly, of course you do. You're a newborn woman, and you owe it yourself to experience everything. It doesn't change what we have. Sex and love are different things. We'll be okay." "Terri, it's not right." "It is. Molly, if we were a vanilla couple, maybe we could be exclusive. We could have a white picket fence and a green lawn. But we aren't. We were born under a wild moon, baby. Now, I want you to go home with Linc and be his woman. I'll see you tomorrow. You can make me lunch, okay." She stood, and she walked out of the bar. She left me at the table. I watched her disappear into the night as I felt Linc's hand on my shoulder. "You ready to go home, baby?" * * We arrived at Linc's apartment about a half-hour later. He held my hand up the stairs, and he kissed me in the doorway. It didn't feel gay. It felt warm and comforting and inviting. We entered the room, and he kissed my neck. He stepped back and unzipped my dress. I felt sluttish, standing there in a bra and panties. My hair was now long enough to touch my shoulders. My breasts were small, but there was something there. I was erect, not that you could really tell. He was a good-looking man, tall and dark as black coffee. He had a small goatee surrounding his mouth, and it felt odd as he kissed me. Again, a man was new territory for me. I wanted to run, but I wanted to see what would happen, too. Linc touched my breasts and smiled. He undid his belt, and his trousers dropped to the floor. He pulled his boxers down and stepped out of them. And there it was. A cock. His cock. It was beautiful, if you want to know the truth, long and thick and veined. I reached out and touched it, and I felt it throb. It was warm, with a soft head and a hard shaft. I played with it. "No, baby," Line said. "I don't want a hand job, ok? I want your mouth." I looked at him. Would I do this? How could I back out now? I dropped to my knees, the way I did with Terri, and I leaned forward with my mouth open. But he stopped me. "To the bedroom," he said. "We need to be in the bedroom." He was naked, and I was in my panties, as we moved into the bedroom. He lay down, and he held out his hand for me to join him.' I took him into my mouth then, determined to do a good job. Then I felt something odd. He kissed my own small penis, and he took it into his mouth, and we fell into a lover's 69. We matched each other's rhythm. Again, I guess someone looking through the window would suggest we were gay. And I thought 'so what?' And I sucked him harder.'' It lasted a long time, not that I was in a hurry. He fit my mouth. He pulled my hair. He began to talk dirty. Then he came, a salty taste, and I came, and It was delightful. He smiled, and he kissed my hand. I licked his sweet sperm out of his pubic hair. "I want to screw you," he said. I nodded. I turned over and lifted my rear toward him. He again shook his head. "Not that way," he said. "I want to face you. I want to look into your eyes when I'm inside you. Now, you're going to have to lift your legs, but it's better that way." I felt it bump against my rump, and I wished I had lubed. But then the head was in me, and he stopped until I adjusted. Then he pushed forward another few inches, and then again, and then again. I was on fire from the pain, and then the burn moved to pleasure. He rocked like a man who knew what he was doing. And I was no longer doing role-play. This was real. * * * "You did WHAT," Terri said. "I made love to Linc," I said. "You know I did. You set it up." "I don't care about that," Terri said. "But you let him suck you? You pegged him?" I dropped my eyes. "Yes," I said. "Molly, those are a guy things. I told you I wanted you to be a woman. Like you are with me. You're a sissy. Sissies don't fuck anything. They get fucked. I'm hurt you put that ... weapon ... into anyone else. You're supposed to be taking it up your ass." I was hurt. "I did that, too," I said. "I know you did," Terri said. "And that's okay. That's girl stuff. You can suck that big cock all you want. I just don't like it that you did boy stuff with him." Terri picked up a lamp and threw it across the room. I had never seen her like this, and she seemed even bigger in rage. Yeah, she was the Hulk, all right. She grabbed my wrist, and I thought she was going to hit me. Instead, she twisted my arm and forced me onto her lap. And felt a sudden and violent pain in my rear. She was spanking me! Like I was a little girl who had soiled the rug. Time and again she swatted me, and I wept, and I felt the burn of the slaps and the burn of embarrassment. She must have hit me 20 times. I was crying. I was breaking rules that I didn't know existed. Even with permission, Terri was suggesting I had cheated on her. I felt cheap. I felt common. I was a slut. "We have to fix this, baby," she said. "We have to make it right." Terri left the apartment, and I cried.I washed my face, then I freshened my makeup. I put on a clean dress. I cleaned up the apartment, losing my melancholy in little tasks. Terry came back in the early afternoon. Her mood was lighter, and she handed me a package in silver foil. At first, I thought it was jewelry, and we were all right again. But it wasn't jewelry. It was a small contraption of metal and plastic rings. I looked at Terri. "It's a Chastity Belt," she said, "a cock cage. It'll keep you from using your dick on Linc. Or on other guys. Molly, you're a girl now. My girl. I won't tolerate you being a top." I shook my head. I was crushed. I stared at this ...penis prison. "Terri, Terri, Terri," I said. "I like our games, but why on earth would I want to put anything into that ... thing. I like it to be free, at least as free as my panties will let it be." "Molly," she said. "It's supposed to be terrific. All the sissies who wear them love them." "I'm not a sissy." "If you say so," Terri said. "Anyway, it's meant to be fun. Just a few hours a day, and it supposedly makes sex better. From the anticipation." I doubted it, but I agreed to let her to put it on me as a peace offering. And, to be honest, when she was done, it was the saddest, most pathetic looking pecker you have ever seen in your life. I felt like the Man in the Iron Mask, only my mask was lower. It felt cold and foreign on me. But over the next two weeks -- hours, my ass --- I came to appreciate anticipation. Terri kept the key, and as much as I wanted to beg for it, I did not. I'm not sure sex was better, but it was different, and Terri seemed to enjoy being in charge. Those chores I was lousy at? I got better. I was a good house cleaner, and an average ironer. My cooking was getting better. Meanwhile, the roleplays continued. We were a cop and a hooker. We were an astronaut and a genie (like the old TV show). We were a teacher and a school girl. Then, one day, we were a Master and her maid. In particular, Terri liked that one. * * * I had always been lousy at cleaning. I usually wore my cleanest dirty shirt. But as a man, Terri felt it was his job to shape me up. I started to wear maid's dresses, and it wasn't simply for roleplay. They made me feel sexy. I would flit about the apartment, by petticoats flopping around my thighs, vacuuming and dusting. I ironed. I cooked. I curtsied. I called Terri "sir," even though she had a vagina. More and more, Terri acted as if all of this was normal. A man needs a maid. Didn't Neil Young sing that? I had gone from being an effeminate man dressing up as a girl to a girl working as a domestic for her man. I still had my job. I was still the breadwinner. But I was girly, and I fell deeper and deeper into my role. She was the man of the house. I was the wife. Sometimes, I was the domestic. Every day, I brought Terri a beer as she came in from working out. I had snacks ready, and dinner had to be on the table within 30 minutes of him coming home. I had to work in heels and full makeup. I never got out of chastity any more. Terri liked to be eaten, but she only rarely appreciated vaginal sex. She said it reminded her she was a girl. To Terri, a nice evening was a home-cooked meal (by me), a glass of wine and a session of pegging my ass. We ran into Linc at O'Malley's. Linc was a little nervous -- Terri was bigger than he was -- but he tried to act as if nothing was wrong. Terri was cool, though. She simply wanted Linc to touch my panties, and Linc felt the cage. He was crestfallen. After all, it was designed to limit his games. Linc faded after that. It was a shame. But this was Terri's way of establishing her territory. She put her arm around my shoulders, claiming me, owning me. Yeah, I was a girl, all right. I wore dresses and skirts every damn day. I wore perfume and makeup. I wore heels (I loved heels). I wore my maid's outfits for her. I was her cheerleader, her waitress, her nurse. Still, Terri was distant, moody, unfulfilled. It didn't matter how much I did for him. His mind wandered. I wondered if he was sleeping with another person, but there weren't a lot of candidates like me. Joy and Nancy took to dropping by. They no longer teased me about being feminine. I guess God had the bigger joke. They talked about fashion. They talked about hair. They talked about the soaps. I kept looking at Nancy and trying to see the man inside. I could not. Even when we went to O'Malley's, I was in a dress. Terri encouraged me to dance with the guys who would hit on me, but after Linc, I didn't want to. And it all began to feel normal. The role-play were the years I spent as a male, not these days when I was a woman. I cooed over Glory's baby. My breasts grew into a B-cup. My hair looked good with a wave in it. My favorite maid's uniform was powder blue, not black like the stereotype. Terri wanted me to call him Sir and wait on him hand and foot (and penis). He wanted me to exaggerate my mincing walk. He wanted me to curtsy. He was Henry Higgins. I was a tramped-up version of Eliza Doolittle. "By George," he kept saying, "I think she's got it!" In the evenings, we would pose in front of the mirror. Terri would flex, and her muscles would swell. I would put my hand on my hip and stick my ass out. It was all in good fun. Now, you might expect that the gang would fade away as we immersed ourselves into the life, but they didn't. We still had parties, and we still met at the restaurant. But, now, there was more of an edge to their humor. Everyone knew me, and everyone knew I was the boy in the dress playing games. "Wonder Woman," Joy said. "You can be Wonder Woman. Terri can be Batman. They were in Justice League together." "You can be a Frankenstein and his Bride," Nick said. "Mulder and Scully." "Ant-man and the Wasp." "That guy from Bones and that girl from Bones," Tony said. Everyone stared at him. "What?" Tony said. * * One Sunday morning, we sat in bed, drinking coffee and reading the papers. Terri had on blue silk pajamas. I had on a black nightie. By now, it felt natural. "I have an idea for a role-play scene," Terri said. "Yeah?" I said, lazily. "What is it?" "Remember Casablanca? The old movie." "We could do that," she said. "Rick, Ilsa and Victor Lazlo." "Silly goose," I said. "That's three people." Terri grinned. "Hubba-hubba." "Hubba Hubba?" I said. "Wait. Are you serious? You want a third person in our personal role-play? Are you after a threesome?" "Well, it doesn't have to be Casablanca. It could be Three's Company. Or the Mod Squad. It could be King Arthur, Gwenivere and Sir Galahad. Or Rhett, Scarlet and Ashley Wilks from Gone With the Wind." "Terri...what are you telling me?" "I just thing it would be fun to ... expand things," Terri said. "We don't have to if you don't want to. But I hear it's great fun. Tell you what. I'll unlock you. I'll give you the weekend off from your chores. We'll celebrate." After Linc, I was scared. I didn't want to sleep around. But Terri was in charge around her; I knew that what she wanted, we would do. "Terri...this isn't like you," I said. "I don't know what's like me, baby," she said. "I was never a wild child. Probably because I didn't have the chance with my size. Hell, I was a threesome all by myself." "Terri, you're in charge of this relationship," I said. "We'll do what you want. You know that. But threesomes can be dangerous. You're dealing with egos and rejection and jealousy. Sweetie, your dildo is enough for me. I don't another person." She was quiet for a minute. "Maybe I do," she said quietly. "Terri, I locked up my dick for you. It's been caged so long I've got cobwebs on it. You could have had me any time you wanted, any way you wanted. But you're in love with being licked, and with being in control. I was the girl in penis jail. You feminized me until there was no man left, and now, you want another one? Is that what I'm hearing." She looked at me, the tears rolling down her cheek. "I love you, muffin," she said. "But if I was diabetic, would you deny me insulin? Look, I never had a lot of sex growing up. But I know that you aren't the large stallion in the corral, you know?" "This is what you want?" I asked bluntly. "It's what I need," she whimpered. "Do what you want," I said, mustering enough courage to let Terri know I disagreed with her And she did. * * * It took Terry three weeks to set it up. One day, at dinner, he told me he found our third. Nancy. Yes, that Nancy. It was a perfect fit, Terri said. Nancy was trans, like me. Terri had always loved trans girls, so it suited him. She was pretty, he said. She was smart and funny and sexy. I looked at her, doubt and shame filling my mind. I felt like someone was invading our love story. Whoever heard of Romeo and Juliet...and Biff. Who heard of Robin Hood and Maid Marion...and Butch. "Is Nancy the one you want?" I asked. "Maybe," Terri said. For two weeks, the three of us flirted. We joked and we laughed and we filled the air with innuendo. We decided to proceed. It was a Saturday night when Nancy came to the condo. She brought a bottle of wine. Terri was right. She was a good-looking woman. S I had on a red dress. Terri had on a blue polo shirt and jeans. We made small talk, and we had dinner, and we drank wine. We went through the lines of Casablanca. We talked about Ilsa's choice, and whether she slept with Rick. Then I felt Nancy take my hand. I look across, and in her other hand, he was holding Terri's. Oh my God. This was really happening. Nancy leaned forward and kissed me gently. Then she turned and kissed Terri. And then Terri kissed me. "I have to say something," Nancy said. "You two are amazing. I can't wait to be with you both. A man who is living as a woman. A woman who is stronger than any man I know. Me, a woman who used to be a guy. It's like a blend of genders, and I'm honored to be with you both." I reached down to grab her penis. And Terri's hand was already there. We laughed at the clumsiness of it all. Terri stood and pulled off her shirt. Her breasts were small, perhaps flattened by all the supplements she took for her bodybuilding. I stood, and I pulled my own shirt off. My own breasts were small, too. I hadn't been on estrogen for long. But they were feminine, and they felt good with Nancy's hands on them. And then were all intertwined, legs and arms and lips.I smelled Nancy. I touched Terri. Terri pulled Nancy on top of her, an amazing feat. Terri was never on the bottom. But it seemed that Nancy was an alpha. She directed all three of us so a mouth went here and a hand went there. Nancy entered Terri swiftly. She was rarely penetrated. But a need had been unlocked in Terri. She had always been masculine with me, but she was feminine with Nancy. I kissed Nancy's neck, and I spun around so my own tiny cock was in front of her. Her penis was larger than mine, impressive for a trans who had lived as a woman for years. I got ready to give her a blow job, and she shook her head. Instead, he pulled out of Terri, who whimpered. He twisted around, and there it was, right in front of my face. Now, you should never compare a dildo with the real thing. It's bigger in person. But there was something feminine about her penis, as strange as that sounds. She tapped me on the head and nodded toward her cock. I exhaled and closed my eyes. I wriggled forward, and I took the bulb of her penis into my mouth. "Oooh," Terri cooed, looking on. I felt like taking the entire length into my mouth, but I reminded myself to slow down. I licked the tip, then licked up and down the shaft. She moved, slapping my face with it, and chuckled. There was no pretense anymore. I was a cocksucker, and I liked it. I bobbled up and down on Nancy's dick. I could feel it throb in my mouth. She drove it farther into my throat, and then she was in charge, grinding, moaning. Face fucking. Terri's mouth replaced mine then, with her head shoving mine aside. She wasn't masculine anymore. She was a female, and she needed Nancy. I leaned down, and I kissed Nancy's balls while Terri worked the tip. I licked his shaft. And suddenly, Nancy was in my throat, and her dick was twitching, and fluid filled my mouth. There was so much of it. she was a gas hose, and I was a fuel tank, and she damn near drowned me. Nancy collapsed back onto the bed, and Terri pushed my head into her vagina. It was soaked, but I licked as quickly as I could. I had a hummingbird's tongue, and I was in familiar ground. The beauty of a threesome is that, done properly, everyone feels as if they are the center of attention. I was like that. My ass wanted cock, and my mouth, and my hands. I could not be satisfied. Then Nancy was stirring again. Her dick pushed against my ass, and when it entered, it felt nice. As with Linc, it was like someone had stuck a baseball bat into my butt. I know some trans women lose the ability to get hard with the estrogen. But not Nancy. She went deeper, faster than I would have thought, but there was suddenly no pain. There was just ... wonder. My God, it was terrific. I felt her hands on my hips, guiding me, taking me, owning me. For the second time, she came. And Terri came with her. And I came with them both. I kept her dick in my mouth until it was soft again, until it was normal sized. He kissed me. He kissed her. And we lay there in afterglow, and we wondered about tomorrow. * * We were already married, but our relationship needed more. The first time we took our vows, I was the man and she was the woman. Now, we were going to do it right. We were in a side room, and Terri came in. "You aren't supposed to see me, knucklehead," I said, standing in my wedding dress. "I wanted to, though," Terri said. She sat me down, and she brought out the key to my cage. "I thought you should be free on the day you married me," Terri said. She snaked her arms up my skirt and snapped my cage open. It felt odd. "I am free, Terri," I said. "I don't need my dick to dangle for me to be free. I reached up and pulled her hands away. I snapped it closed again. "Terri, I love you. And if that helps you understand my commitment to you, well, I'll wear it. Of my own free will. It's my sacrifice." Terri's eyes welled up. "A man isn't supposed to cry," she said. I leaned in and kissed her. "Um, Terri. If you want, we could take off later for play time. I'd like that. My husband has a pussy. I think I ought to use it." She smiled. She held my hand. Life was good. A few minutes later, I stood in the church vestibule, and I recited my vows. My hair was swept. upward, and I had on heels. My breasts were my own. Terri was in a black Tux. All of our friends -- even Linc -- were there. I took my vows as Molly, and Terri kissed me until. the crowd began to titter. We walked back down the aisle, and there was rice, and there was cake, and there was the couple's first dance. Terri had been tender with me since the day she spanked me. I really did love her, even after all of this. That's life, it occurs to me. You never know where you will end up, or what you will be when you get there. You just put one heel in front of the other, and you walk down the path. Copyright, Cassandra Morgan