Home. It was always how Frank Richards thought of the sleepy little town in central Indiana where he was born. Even after he'd been uprooted at fourteen when his family had moved out to LA in search of work after selling out the farm, the big city wasn't him. He missed the closeness of people in the farmland, despite the physical distance between them. In LA, of course it was reversed. Getting good grades wasn't a big issue when you have no social life in school. So he'd landed a great job in Indianapolis, and was willing to make the one and a half hour commute to return to the town of his birth.
He was surprised how much of the town he remembered, and how many memories included his best friend Dean Wilson. He cruised down Main Street past the ice cream parlor they'd had to scrub clean after the most wonderful food fight, and Mr. Boats had forgiven them (with a scoop of chocolate ice cream each) as soon as the last drop of melted dairy product was polished off his clock over the counter. Then he peered into the Laundromat and saw the same ancient Donkey Kong machine that had eaten so much of the boys' allowances. The park was full of kids having adventures, just as Fran and Dean had in the small grove of trees, the jungle gym, and their imaginations. The only thing missing was the old abandoned Easton House. The boys had stashed dirty magazines in the various hidden nooks and crannies, but a fence surrounded the lot where it'd stood, and a sign announced its demise as a crackhouse. A small flaw in paradise, after all.
He pulled off Main Street down to the small apartment building he'd taken out rooms in, until he'd settled into routine. Frank then started straightening up his place, unpacking boxes left by the company movers and thinking about his separation from this place. After leaving for California, he remained 'pen pals' with many of the kids here, but especially Dean. As he had difficulty fitting in, Frank cherished each letter from Indiana. Filled with the wild hopes and dream of young kids, they kept him going the first years he was out west. But sometime in the middle high school years, the letters changed. By then Dean was the only Pen Pal he had left, and the letters were confused, almost if they were trying to say more without saying anything. Dean's last letter said goodbye, leaving Frank adrift in LA and confused about his former friends back east. It was obvious Dean was confused or hiding something, and maybe that was a little of why he returned.
After unpacking about half the boxes and brooding over the past, he decided to go onto Main Street and grab a beer and a sandwich at the local pub. Walking in, the longtime regulars eyed him suspiciously until they found out his name. Then it was like a seventh grade reunion. A lot of his old buddies had stayed and he spent the next five hours catching up on all he'd missed. But in all the talk, Dean's name was noticeably absent. No amount of hinting, leading, or prodding by Frank could weasel out what had happened to his old buddy. Finally, he said his goodbyes and went back to his flat.
The next morning he got up and finished his unpacking, then decided to visit his old family farm. Driving down the old rural road he came to the place where his old house sat on one side of the road, the massive trees providing shade for the yard, the old tire swing still on the large elm by the walkway. Frank went to the front door and knocked, but no one answered. He decided to look around anyway; sure the owner would understand his temerity. The fence line had signs proclaiming the fields were now part of a big AG combine so he looked around at the old farm buildings. The old silo was in poor shape, obviously unused by whatever company shipped the grains off to who knows where, but both the machine shop and barn looked to be in good repair.
Inside the garage were a host of memories. The current owner must have liked Frank's grandfather's collection of license plates, as they were all still there, with several more added in the intervening years. Cables and chains and tools lined the other walls, and off in the corner was his old Schwinn bike that he couldn't take to California. If he found the owner, Frank was going to have to make him an offer for that.
He walked out of the shop and crossed over to the barn. He stopped at the opening to let his eyes adjust to it's dim interior. He could soon see the tools neatly stacked by one of the supporting pillars and a pair of fine horses in well-maintained stalls. Frank walked over and rubbed and petted the horse's neck and admired the fine trim the horse was in. The mare's condition and the cleanliness of its stall bespoke of its owners intense love and care.
He turned around to leave, and then stopped completely short as Frank looked over into the dark, backlit corner just one side of the door to the barn. A huge mound of clean straw was piled there, and lying on top of it was presumably the owner of the farm, napping. What surprised him was that * she * was napping. He stood there looking at how her long dark hair contrasted wonderfully with the gold straw. Her bosom was encased in a rather stereotypical (but nonetheless exciting) farmers-daughter type blouse. And almost every inch of her toned and tanned legs were laid before his eyes thanks to the somewhat tacky but much welcome pair of 'Daisy Dukes' the lady wore.
He stood there staring, his mouth open like a gaping fish, until she shifted in her sleep with a soft moan. Quickly realizing the tenuous nature of the situation, Frank quietly exited the barn. Walking back to a point halfway between the drive and the barn, he turned and yelled if there was anyone home. This was rewarded with a good deal of commotion from the area of the stables. Sure enough, the pretty napping girl had peeked out of the barn, and was approaching him. Soon she was standing in front of him, her six-foot frame allowing her to stare him almost defiantly in the eye. The lady eyed him up, sizing his possible threat to her.
"What do you want here, mister? If y'all are selling I ain't buying nothin'"
"No. No sales. I was just wondering if I could look around a bit. I just moved from out west, and wanted to remind myself what a farm looked like."
"Out west, huh? Like LA?"
Frank nodded his head.
The girl spit. "I don't have time for you city slickers with your city life and 'cuisine' and 'dance clubs' and low opinions of us. Get goin', tourist, or I'll call sheriff Briscoe and get you for trespassing."
"No problem. I just wanted to see my old family's farm, but don't want any trouble."
Frank watched the girl pale, and was afraid for a moment that she'd faint.
"Y'all must be Frank, then."
"Yeah."
"A lot of the kiddy junk, err... toys had your name on it."
"We couldn't afford to take much, just what fit in my dad's old Dodge."
"Yeah. Why don't you come on in and have lunch."
Frank couldn't believe his turn of luck, and frankly watching the lady's cute butt walk across the lawn to the house, he really didn't care.
As he sat down at the kitchen table he noticed that, except what was at his parent's home in Northridge, everything was exactly as he remembered it. Exactly. The girl laid down some iced tea and very surprisingly, his favorite, a deviled ham sandwich.
"Thanks! Um, I mean thanks Mrs. ..."
"It'd be Ms., but just call me Deanna."
"Sure Deanna. Eatin' this, here, sure will bring back memories."
"Like? I mean, I bought this only four years ago and I'd like to know..."
For the next three hours Frank regaled her on his exploits on the farm. Deanna smiled, a wistful look on her face, as he described each and every event he could recall to mind. He paused to take note of the time and started.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to take up your whole afternoon."
"It's alright. Your story was captivating. You mentioned your friend a lot, what happened between you?"
"Well, we wrote a lot. It was always a joy to get a letter from him, and then there was an odd letter, then nothing."
"Odd letter?"
"Yeah. He probably started dating. Really noticing girls. His letter had said he was fascinated by, well, boobs. I wrote back asking him who the lucky girl was, but nothing came. I came back, and no one can or will tell me what happened. It's pretty damned frustrating. I'd give a lot to know what happened."
"I happened."
"What?"
"Well, you asked who the lucky girl was whose 'boobs' he'd become fascinated with, well here I am."
"Oh. Oh! So Dean bought the old place! It's kinda funny he'd do that, but not as funny as hooking up with you. Y'know, Dean and Deanna."
"We didn't hook up.", Deanna said quietly.
"What do you mean?", Frank said. Seconds later the answer came crashing down on him. "You... he... err..."
"I see LA schools didn't improve your eloquence, Frank."
"But WHY?"
"I don't know. I started dating, sure, and loved it when I got to play with a girl's breasts, but all the time I was imagining they were my breasts on my chest I was squeezing. So when I entered the AG program at Indiana U, one day I swiped some hormones and injected myself with them. A couple of times I nearly threw my body completely out of whack, but by the time IU figured out what I was doing, I already had this chest and could maintain my body on smaller doses of hormones, that I could obtain legally. They let me stay to graduate, tacking on the stuff I swiped to my tuition. I still looked a bit manly, so got surgery to my face after I got successful, then returned here."
"Why here?"
"I remember all the good times here too, Frank. So I bought the farmhouse from the corporation, and cut a deal to graze my cows in whatever field they'd rotated to grow fallow. The cows don't need much attention from me now, I've got three hands for day-to-day, so I'm only busy during mating, birthing, and when a group goes to slaughter. Until then, I play here on the farm. If you can deal with this Frank, you're more than welcome to spend your time here."
The two chatted for another thirty minutes. Then Frank rolled back to his small flat in town. All the way home, then all night long he wrapped his head around the events of the day. He wasn't necessarily shocked by a transsexual; god knows that his years in LA had let him know that such people existed. It was the twin concepts of his former best friend... in a small town in Indiana... going from boy to girl that he didn't understand. So fortified with three and a half bottles of MGD and a headache that wouldn't quit, Frank faded off to a fitful sleep.
Frank awoke in the morning feeling more confused than he'd had when he'd tossed down half a six pack and went to bed. He took a long shower, got dressed and walked to the diner for breakfast. He sat there, fiddling with his biscuits and gravy and scrambled eggs trying to reconcile thirteen-year-old Dean with twenty eight year old Deanna. Draining his cup of coffee, he decided to go back out to the farmhouse just to see how much had changed inside of her.
Fifteen minutes later he was knocking at her front door, noticing a wonderful smell emanating from the house. After a moment Dean... Deanna opened the door in a somewhat short yellow housedress and a plain white apron.
"Hi Frank. Come on in. I'm baking pies for the diner tonight."
"Thanks. You like baking?"
"Yeah. I grew some of this, so I get to cook it. It's kinda fun, you should try it. There are seven people who take turns baking desserts for the diner. You should go in on Tuesday and try Old Man Williams elderberry pie, especially the one you need valid ID for."
Frank chuckled, William's wine and still was legend in the county years ago. "Well, you need any help on the weekend, I'll pitch in. Office work isn't conductive to any fitness routine I know of."
"Well then, if you want a good lunch, change out the straw in the stables with the hay in the corner, drop some down from the loft, and see if you can tell what's wrong with the old tractor. I don't really relish buying a new one."
Soon Frank was lost in his old world of farm work. His somewhat idealized memories had caused him to forget how hard it could be, but as he stripped off his shirt so it wouldn't get soaked in sweat, he began to lose himself in it's timeless monotony. In many ways, it was a perfect balm for the mental tedium of his office job. A couple of hours later he had finished changing the plugs and cleaning the contacts on the old John Deere and Deanna came running when she heard it sputter then fire up.
"Damn, thanks Frank. That'll save me a lot of money. I do appreciate it."
"No problem. What's for lunch?", he asked as he climbed down off the tractor.
Deanna gave him a hug. "It's a surprise. I'll go and get it."
Deanna ran back to the farmhouse, but Frank leaned against the rear fender. He still couldn't reconcile the feeling, especially as she just pushed her breasts against him, with Dean. Shaking his head, he pulled back on his shirt and walked toward the house. Deanna darted back out with a basket and grabbed his hand and led him to her beat up old Skylark convertible.
Ten minutes later she pulled off a rural road, through a small copse, and parked by a small bend in a creek. Deanna got out with the basket and laid out a blanket and started spreading out lunch.
"You've really gone all into this 'girl' thing, haven't you Deanna? Cooking, picnics..."
"...a successful steak corporation, high quality leather outsourcing, my own subspecie of cow. It's all planning, Frank. Not 'girly'. But when I got my boobs, it attracted more guys than girls, but I've never really done anything."
"Never?"
"Touchie-feelie in high school was as far as I ever really got."
"Wow. I never had much of a life in LA. I did go all the way with two girls, both country girls, daughters of guys in the army. I didn't fit in, and it made me kinda shy throughout college. Mostly it was whatever porn I could get from the odd Arab guy who ran the video store. You never knew what you were going to get, all of it had the labels removed and was in a big bin..."
"Weird stuff?"
"Quite a bit, actually. There was this one tape where this girl was getting it from another girl with a six inch... um... err..."
Deanna giggled at Frank's discomfort. Frank grinned lopsidedly and the two proceeded to eat the picnic lunch of fried chicken, macaroni salad, and rolls. The two chatted about growing up together, what had happened afterward, and stuff they'd become interested in as they grew up. Frank then gathered up the mess and went to take the basket to the car and get the pie from the trunk. Three quarters of the way there he heard a loud splash.
Turning back he saw Deanna's dress on the blanket... along with her bra and panties. Frank placed the basket in the back seat of the car and walked back to the riverbank and looked out over the water. Deanna was swimming, cutting through the water with long strokes of her tanned arms, the water shimmering as it rolled across her bare back.
"Deanna, what are you doing?" Frank called out.
Deanna stopped and started treading water. "I got too warm and decided to jump in! Come on!"
"I don't have a suit!"
The look she gave him spoke volumes. "You don't have anything I've not seen before. Hell, you've got nothing I didn't have before. And besides, I don't remember a lot of clothes when we used to swim."
"Don't you think that was different? I mean, you... but... I..." Frank started pulling off his shoes. "Aw, fuck it.", he muttered.
Soon Frank was wading into the river naked, moving a little quickly to get his waist below water level. He started swimming out toward Deanna feeling the coolness of the water over his body. The two paddled around for a bit, cooling off in the chill of the creek under the midday sun, splashing and swimming and relaxing after their lunch.
"I'm getting out Frank. I'm getting a little pruny."
"Ok!"
Frank wheeled around in the water to follow but stopped as Deanna walked out of the small river bend. Her back, legs and bottom glistened with the water, her skin a wonderfully perfect tan that came with her life on the farm. She laid down on the blanket, her firm breasts revealing no trace that she'd ever been Dean. Frank shook his head and waded out himself and approached their picnic site.
"Hi Frank, thanks for the swim. Are you ok?"
"Why do you ask?
"Well, you seem a little distracted... and... um..."
"Um?"
Deanna looked down and blushed. Frank did the same when he noticed he was fully erect.
"I'm sorry, I'm, um..."
"It's ok. It's hard to control. I remember." Deanna shifted her legs to reveal a semi-hard six-inch penis of her own. "You've got nothing to be ashamed of Frank. I'm sure all the girls out west would be a little rueful if they'd known what I know now."
Frank continued to blush as he sat down across the blanket from Deanna... or tried to. Finally he stuck his legs out and propped himself up on his wrists, his penis sticking straight up. Waiting for their bodies to dry so they could put on their clothing, they sat and chatted, both silently aware Frank's penis remained quite hard. Finally came one of those awkward pauses in almost every conversation and Frank noticed Deanna wasn't looking at him, or at least not his face.
"Are you checking me out?"
"Huh? Oh! No. I mean, um. Yeah, I guess I was. Since the change and my return, I haven't had much opportunity for, well, anything." A thought hit her. "Why are you still hard?"
"I... I dunno"
The pause was damning. "I think I do." Deanna leaned forward and cupped her breasts in her hands. "Despite what's 'down there', even you appreciate my 'enhancements', huh?" She began to fondle her nipples and squeeze the orbs. "Miracles of modern chemistry they are, huh?"
"Deanna..."
"Hush."
Deanna moved across the blanket, knelt by his side, and slowly lowered her mouth onto his penis. Frank's look of anxiety eased as the warmth of her tongue sliding over his head and down his shaft felt so good. Deanna moved back up and let him go with an audible pop and looked up at him.
"I've never done this. Boy or girl. Do you want to continue, Frank? I mean, I don't want to force you or nothing, but I was feeling so hot..."
Frank nodded, and was rewarded with a quick grin from Deanna, and a resumption of her mouth on his shaft. She moved up and down the length of him, twisting her tongue around his rod trying to vary the experience she was giving him. Deanna reveled in having the tube of her best friend deep in her mouth, filling it with warmth and eroticism. She redoubled her efforts, moving her fingers across his scrotum and was soon rewarded. Frank gasped, his balls clenched, rod swelled, head flared, and soon Deanna felt splash after splash of his warm sticky liquid coat the back of her throat.
Frank propped himself back up just as Deanna straddled him, placing her breasts right in his face. Caught in the moment he grabbed each one in his hands and started licking and suckling each one in its turn. Soon he was aware that Deanna was moaning with a lot of intensity, and twitching rather oddly. Looking down he saw she was stroking her now hard six-inch penis.
She bent down and whispered in his ear, "I'm sorry, it's still my primary sex organ. I gotta come."
"Yes, I suppose you do."
Frank lifted Deanna off of him and laid her on her back. Deanna couldn't believe it when he took her rod into his mouth. Even as he brought his own penis back over her face, she thought she was going to explode straight to heaven as Frank's tongue waggled over her head and around her shaft. Frank had never really thought about going down on someone else's penis before, but he marveled at how Deanna's organ would grow and contract as he moved up and down the shaft. Soon Deanna's moans around his shaft became more intense, and he tasted her salty liquid as she shot it into his throat.
He sat up and took a sip of water as Deanna continued to run her tongue and lips over his scrotum. All the attention had renewed his erection. He looked down at the pretty girl licking his sex organs, her beautiful breasts heaving, her exotic penis shimmering with her come and his saliva and quietly, almost breathlessly, he said "I'd love to make love to you."
Deanna stopped and moved from underneath her former best friend, now her lover, and grabbed her purse. Reaching in she produced a small packet of personal lubricant. Quickly she opened it and ran the gel along Frank's hard shaft. Then, lying down on her back with her legs as high as they could go, Deanna presented herself to Frank.
He moved to her, placing his penis at her puckered opening beneath her scrotum and slowly pushed his slippery shaft into her. Deanna cried out with pleasure as she felt this man move inside of her for the first time. When he bottomed out in her, full of his large eleven-inch organ, he bent down and took one of her nipples into his mouth. As he suckled, he began to move in and out of her bottom, moving his penis deep inside of her, then removing it only to drive it back home again. Deanna writhed underneath this pistoning into her ass, her cries of passion echoing across the river. Frank leaned up, removing his mouth from Deanna's beautiful chest, and increased the pace of his thrusting. Plunging one final time into her, he tensed and coated her insides with warm sticky globs of his semen.
Collapsing on top of each other, they began kissing and touching and fondling each other. Soon, too soon, the shadows grew long and they dressed and got into the car to go home. After a quick call to Frank's landlord, it was just their home, and the two scampered upstairs to her bedroom. Their clothes were soon shed again and Deanna had Frank lie down on his stomach on her large bed. She straddled his thighs and poured baby oil over his back. He flinched at it's chill but began to enjoy the feel of Deanna's hands running up and down his spine, running over his shoulders and sides, kneading at his buttocks.
Frank lied there in a near dreamlike trance when he felt something, something that started him to panic. But so relaxed he was from the massage he couldn't bring himself to do anything before Deanna had sank all six inches of herself into his butt. He started to get up, but was met by her bosom pressing down on his back, her kissing and licking his neck as her shaft rested inside of him. Gently she began pumping in and out of him, Frank's tight ring clasping at the hot flesh of Deanna's pole. Without conscious thought, he began to meet her thrusts into his bottom, wanting and needing to be filled by her penis, reveling in the press of her hard nipples into his broad back. Deanna threw her head back and gasped. Frank's bowel began to fill with her juices, splashing into him with a force that surprised him.
Deanna collapsed upon him, and slowly, luxuriously felt her shaft soften and slide from her best friend's butt. She shrieked as he startled her by turning over and climbing on top of her. Frank kissed her softly and as her breasts were pressed against his chest, their penises pressed together, the two reunited friends drifted off to sleep for the first time in the rest of their lives.