Disclaimer- This story contains some description of situations that should not be read by minors. All those depicted in this story are fictional, as are the situations. Any resemblance to any person living or dead is entirely coincidental. Any comments on the value of this story will be welcomed, but only if they are constructive. Send comments to tbrscd@icqmail.com Thank You, and enjoy, -Tiberius.
She is so beautiful as she lies there, sleeping peacefully finally. There is this half smile on her face. I guess her dreams are better than her reality has been tonight. I hardly blame her, er... Well... I guess I should say him, but with the blanket disguising all but his breasts and long curly brown hair, I can not think of her as anything but her.
I look down at the few salvageable scraps of clothes she has left to her, and realize she will need something else. She has a bra, a skirt and a sweater. Barely enough, but I think after the ordeal she has been through, around me she will want something more... substantial. I know I would never do the things she sobbed to me that those other men did, but she does not. It is better to give her confidence before she has to start trusting me.
I go to my room and look around. I have some old jeans that I have... well frankly... grown out of. A seat job has taken away my time to exercise, and depression has kept me in on the weekends. However, nostalgia and a hope I would lose the weight again have combined to make me keep them. I think they will fit her.
A Tee shirt to wear with it. Some socks, mine again. Socks are socks right? They should fit her. I rummage through my drawers. But what about underwear? Oh yeah!
I go to my closet and pull 'that box' out of it. The damn bitch. I hate her and her smug little mouth. I know, I know. I said I liked the way she smiled, but after the way she dumped me... Aargh.
I push around the collected detritus of a three year engagement, and come up with a bunched up bundle of clothing. Out of the mess I am able to extract three pairs of panties, a blouse and a garter belt with stockings. I shrug. It's not as if I need them.
I bring the collected things to the library, and lay them, folded neatly in a pile, next to her on the table.
I look at her again.
I shake my head.
'How beautiful', I think, and then I cross the room. Sitting in the comfortable chair there, I begin to read that book I had been working on.
It wouldn't do for her to wake in a strange environment, after the ordeal she had been through, alone.
Light.
Slowly I begin to wake up as a beam of light strikes my face from across the room. I blink trying to clear my vision, and then the soreness starts.
Oh my god, no!
I can still see their faces as they chased me. Those damned high heels. I could never hope to outrun them. And then the change in their faces as the caught me, held me down and ripped off my panties. The horror as they see what I have hidden there.
I can't help it. I begin crying again.
It's over, I try to tell myself. I'm alive and away from them. That nice man in the Jeep rescued me.
That man?!
I open my eyes again fully and look around the room. There, in a seat, asleep sitting up with a book half falling off his lap. I can't help but smile a little.
There he is. He must have tried to stay awake for me. Why would he do that for me? I know he knows the truth of what I am. I was lying on the ground with my skirt up around my waist and my panties in shreds on the ground when he saved me.
Hope lifts my heart for a moment, but then fades. No, he is just a kind man. Why should a man like him find anything interesting in me.
I sit up on the couch. My blankets fall away and I look down at myself. He must have dressed me. I have on one of his flannel shirts. It's long enough to almost cover my thighs while sitting. My breasts shift sorely as I move.
On the table are some clothes. I see mine. Good, my bra is not ruined. I guess since it is front closure, the rapists didn't cut it to free my breasts. It will really help the pain I feel in my breasts if I can support them. At least, I think it will.
In a pile of clothes I assume he got for me, there are some panties. I wonder where he got them? Again I fight back that irrational hope. I gather up some of the clothing and get up to find a bathroom.
When I stand, the shirt still keeps me modest.
I smile a little, looking at the man as he sits there, and then I take the book from his lap. Putting it on the table beside him, I turn out the lamp and put the blanket that was on me over him.
I awake with a start.
That momentary disorientation, and then I recognize the library. I must have dozed off while reading. The closest I ever get to a woman lately is vicariously through the stories I read.
I chuckle softly to myself. Then I remember.
The girl.
I look, but I already know the futon is empty. I have the blanket on me.
Some clothes are gone, and I panic, thinking she has run off. I stand quickly and begin to search the house. Then I hear it.
The shower is running.
I let out a breath of relief, and then stop.
Wait a minute, what am I thinking. If she wanted to run away, it is fine with me. It's not as if she is engaged to me. She probably has a boyfriend of her own.
Hell, girlfriend for that matter.
Besides, why would I be interested in her. She has the wrong equipment.
I shake my head to myself as I make my way to the kitchen. She'll probably want breakfast. I start the coffee brewing and then check the refrigerator. This is a bachelor pad, yes, but I do cook pretty darn well, thank you. Omelettes, that's just the thing.
I close the door behind me, and place the clothes I selected on the hamper by the sink. Quickly, I lock the door and lean against it. I can't control the shakes.
Why did I do that? If that nice man was a rapist as well, why would he have been so nice? Why did he take me to his home, and put me to bed?
I finally begin to calm.
Then, standing in front of the vanity, I look at myself in the mirror. Not too much damage.
I raise a hand to feel the puffiness on my jaw, remembering the backhand almost as vividly as when it happened. My hair is a wreck.
I chuckle a little at that admission. I was raped, and my hair's a wreck.
Slowly I disrobe as I watch myself in the mirror. There are bruises on my breasts where they grabbed and pulled my chest. One of my nipples still has bite marks. There is the bruise where the tall one punched me, and there is the burn mark where the fat one put out his cigarette.
I wince as each wound comes to view, and I feel each vividly in my mind, reliving the experience. Finally I drop the shirt and am fully crying. I lean on the vanity with one arm as I sob into my other hand. Why did all this have to happen to me. If only my parents were still alive, and I wasn't sent to that awful home. I wouldn't look like this, and I would not have been raped.
I thought I was finally free, but those awful people are still ruining my life. I hate them. I hate everyone.
I resign myself to being alone forever, and start the water in the tub. When the temperature is where I like it, I step in and start the shower. Almost immediately I begin to feel better. I am able to clean myself of the touch of the rapists.
My spirits are once again up as I finish washing. I am free of them. I will make my new start. I can go to school and learn some profession and make the money I need to become male again. It can be done.
I stand before the mirror again, and look at myself. I am freshly scrubbed, and my hair is clean. I look around for a brush, but all I find is a comb. Of course. A man with such short hair as my rescuer wouldn't need a brush. No matter. I only intend to put my hair in a pony tail anyway. The comb will do.
I tame the kinks and tangles in my curly hair, and gather it up behind my neck. Pulling an elastic from the pocket of my sweater, I wrap up my ponytail. Then I begin to dress.
I slide my arms through the straps of my bra, and draw it around in front of me. I clasp it closed and adjust the way my breasts rest. Then I look back to the pile. I pull out the pair of panties I chose from what he gave me. Again I can't help but wonder where he got them. They were probably left by his girlfriend. She was probably still going out with him, and so she left some here for... after.
I stand there just holding the panties as again I am depressed. He has a real girl. He would never want me. I'm only half girl, and not even that much where it counts.
Finally I shake myself out of it and pull them on. Tucking myself out of the way like I have become accustomed to, my dick is held out of view by the cotton crotch of the panties. It has become reflex; second nature.
The socks are good white cotton, and they go on fine. I pull the Tee shirt over my head, and tug it into place. Then I follow it up with the jeans. The jeans are a little tight in the hip, but my thin waist is swimming in the band. I look around.
Aha. There is a belt hanging on the back of the door. With its aid I am able to cinch the pants in and make them fit better. I look at myself in the mirror.
I look like a sexy young girl to me. Any man would like to get to know me. Too bad they can't. I can never get beyond a simple date because of my 'problem'.
I pull my sweater on, and hide the vision of myself from the world. I can't bear the sight of me any longer. Slowly I turn away, and unlock the door. As I leave the room, I can smell coffee and bacon.
"Hi," She says meekly from the door to the kitchen.
"Morning. Would you like breakfast?"
There is an unforced cheer in his voice. He seems happy that she came to the kitchen.
"Um. Well."
"It's alright. I was making some for myself." He turns to look at her, and smiles. "I make killer omelettes?"
She can't help but smile back. "Sure," She hears her self say, and then shyly she looks away.
"There is some coffee over there," he points the way, "and the mugs are in the cabinet above. The bread is in the fridge. Would you make some toast?"
Pleased at having something to do, she practically scurries over to the refrigerator and pulls out the loaf. She takes four slices out and sets them in the toaster. Then, that done, she goes and gets herself a mug of coffee. Fixing it just the way she likes it, she then goes to the table and sits down. Finding the table un-set for breakfast, she decides to do it herself.
In no time, and only a few questions to locate utensils, she is done, and he comes to the table with a huge omelette. He slides half into her plate from the skillet. Then, putting the rest upon his own, he brings the pan to the sink. He pauses from returning to the table long enough to get the orange juice and places it on the lazy susan.
They both sit quietly and eat their meal.
He just looks at her face and hands, thinking 'how delicate her features. She is so much more beautiful than The Bitch ever was.' Then, whenever she looks up and sees him looking, He gets embarrassed and looks down at his plate. Then, as soon as she is no longer looking, he is back staring at her face.
She, on the other hand can't stop thinking how much she wished she was a real woman. How much she wished she could be his, having his wonderful breakfasts every morning and helping him keep this house. But no. It could never be. Besides, he doesn't even like her. She would then look up and see him looking at her but quickly look away. 'See' she thinks, 'he thinks I'm a freak.'
Finally they finish breakfast, and sit, not knowing what to do.
"What's your..." "Shall I.."
They both begin to speak at once. They try again and are again talking over each other. Finally after a good laugh at the absurdity of it all and a blush of embarrassment from her, he has her speak first.
"Shall I clean up?"
"You don't have to. I have been keeping house for a while. I think I do well."
"I don't mind. My... mother taught me to clean up after myself, and I find it relaxes me."
She looks around at the house, really looking at it. It was well kept for a bachelor pad, but there was no comparison to the way Mistress demanded the house to look. There was no way this man had a woman live here for any stretch of time. Again her heart filled with hope.
"Well," he responded. "If you really want to. But first you have to tell me your name. I can't go around calling the person helping me with my dishes, 'hey you'."
She laughed, and took his outstretched hand. "I'm Nancy Delany."
"Good to meet you, Nancy. I'm Peter McLain. Most people call me Pete. So what brings you to our little town? I haven't seen you around, and you have the accent of a southerner."
She smiled at his welcome, and began clearing the table. "Well, I came looking for a small college to go to. I don't have much money, and will probably have to put myself through."
"Well there is a good one in town. Offers a lot to anyone who really wants to work at it. Do you have someplace to stay yet?"
She looked down at her hands. "Yes, I heard it was good. That's why I came here. I was looking for an apartment yesterday when..."
"Well. You can stay with me until you find something. No need to waste money on a hotel when you have so little already," he hurried on. He saw her begin to think about the rape and steered her away from it.
"That's kind of you, but really..."
"It's no trouble. I live alone, and could use a roommate if only for a little while. It gets lonely in this neck of the woods. The library used to be a bedroom, and the couch you slept on is really a futon. I got plenty of bathroom space, and privacy for you."
He just kept at her. He didn't know why it was so important that she stay, but he had to have her stay. She stood at the sink, her head down, trying to get a word in edgewise, until finally she looked at him. Smiling she held up her hand to slow his onslaught, and answered with one word. Yes.
"Great. I have to go to work for a little while, but when I get back we can get your stuff. Is there anything you need before then that I can get at the store?"
"No, I have everything I need in my car. Thank you."
"Well then. See you in a few hours. The house is yours, make yourself at home."
She surprised them both by running up to him and hugging him about the chest. They were both even more surprised when he wrapped his arms about her in return. She sighed when he placed one of his hands, almost lovingly, to the back of her head, but as quick as it all happened he stepped away and walked to the door. Shouting "good bye," he left the house.
She ran to the front window and watched his jeep drive down the long drive, and then she sank to the couch. Quickly divesting herself of her pants, she drove her hand into her panties and pulled her cock free. Her other hand pulled the tee shirt up and unclasped her bra. Rubbing her stiffened nipples drew a gasp from her clenched teeth, and made her already firm cock even harder.
In no time, she had stroked herself to orgasm, and felt her balls begin the pulsing that sent her come to the surface. She cupped the end of her cock in her hand and allowed all the sweet come to flow out. Soon she was drained, and satiated. Lifting her hand to her mouth, she licked up the small puddle, and swallowed it down.
When he hugged her, she had felt him get hard.
What is with me?
I shift the jeep in to third gear as I get out on the open road and head in to the office.
I have done nothing but stare at the poor girl all morning, and when she finally feels comfortable with me, I go and pop a woody.
Sure she is beautiful, and all that, but what could she possibly see in me? I am just another man. She probably is afraid of all men after that ordeal last night.
I just barely stop daydreaming about her long enough to avoid smashing into the car in front of me, stopped at a light. My heart is going a mile a minute and my system is flooded with adrenaline. I try to calm myself. Eventually I am back in control, and none too soon at that. No sooner do I regain control, the light changes and I am off again. But still I cannot stop thinking of her.
In no time I am pulling in to the parking lot of the office. I shut down the engine, and on autopilot, I walk in the office. Thanks to my familiarity with the place, I am able to make it to my little cubical without further incident. I make it there, but still I am thinking about her.
I log on the server and check my mail. A few memos, and requests for my free time after work to get a bite, and return for my usual network game of Carnage. I reply with the normal non-committal wave off, and thank them for their offer. For the first time in years I have something to go home to after work.
I try to start working on the next program I have due, but my mind is not in it. I think about her. What is she doing now? Will she really stay? Should I do something about that library?
A bang at my cubical entrance startles me into consciousness. I look and see Jim. Oh yeah, our section meeting is today, the only reason I am at work today. I get up from my seat, hit the key combo to shut down my workstation, and follow him to the meeting room.
I am only asked a few questions about my part, but since I have been the only one under time and under budget in the section, my lapses of attention are excused out of hand.
When the meeting breaks up I return to my cubical, but I see no reason, after a short while of thinking, to continue to stay here. It's only two, but I decide to kick off. I don't have to work in the office forty a week, I just have to meet the section goals. I can, and do, work at home more often than not. I leave.
I am whistling. I never whistle. A couple co-workers notice and remark about that very same thing. I just shrug.
I get in my Jeep, and drive towards home, stopping only to get some food at the grocery store. I feel a real need to get home and see her. I actually miss her.
Dumb.
I sit a moment, and then the guilt sets in. What the heck do I think I'm doing? Sitting on his couch jacking off and doing it with his face in my mind. I've been attracted to men before, especially when that woman started me on those hormones, and my body started changing like it did. I lived all my puberty as a girl, and only girls were allowed to be my friends. When girls talk at that age, all we talk about are the boys. I even wanted to date all the 'hunks' we talked about like the other girls did.
Look, even now when I am alone, and not thinking about it, I still default to the feminine way of thinking. I have been permanently changed by that woman. I will never be a man, and I will never regain the boyhood I lost.
I cry again. I feel so helpless. I can never be a real woman, and I can never be a real man. I know I could love this man, Peter, but I can never be the woman he would want. I felt so... safe in his arms. Safer than I have ever felt since my parents died. I wasn't safe in my foster home, that is for sure. And dating the few guys I dated in high school as cover for my true identity was constantly terrifying.
I need something to do, I decide, and get up from the couch. Quickly I rearrange my clothing and look around.
He was right, he did keep a neat house for a bachelor, but he did not have the training that I got at the hands of Mistress during my change. She demanded an immaculate house on top of all my other responsibilities. If I didn't find school as easy as I did, I would have been in trouble. I had very little time in which to study and do homework. I took many a beating for not failing math and science, despite the good job I did in home economics.
I make a decision right there; to get my mind off the guilt I had for masturbating over Peter, I clean the house.
I start in the living room after finding the cleaning supplies in a small closet off the hall, and I tour the house giving it a good cleaning. The library and the kitchen are the easiest, most kept up rooms. The spare bathroom that I used is dirty only from my little use. I decide to avoid cleaning his office as there are probably private things in there I should not see. Finally as I clean the hall to the end, I find myself at the door to his room.
I wonder. Should I go in? I don't know.
Almost of its own will, my hand reaches out to the doorknob. It is as if I am outside my body, unable to control myself. I walk in, and look around.
The room is filled with his scent. It smells exactly as he smelled this morning when I hugged him.
My cock begins to tremor, and semi-harden. I try to think of other things.
I walk around with the duster and lightly clean things as I go around. Actually, I wave the duster in the air as I snoop into his stuff. Then I see it.
There is a box, half protruding out of his closet.
I can't stop myself. I peer into the box, and what I see immediately makes me sit on the floor beside it. It is full of what can only be termed mementoes. There are some earrings, some clothing, some letters and some pictures. It was one picture in particular that caught my eye. It was right on top.
It was peter and some woman, standing together at a party, and she was showing off a ring she was wearing.
What does this mean I kept asking myself as I stared at the picture. I didn't understand it. Then I found what put it all together.
The letter and the ring taped to it.
It was plain what it was. It was obviously a dear john letter. Who could ever think Peter wasn't worth sticking with? I wished that I was that girl in the picture, just given this spectacular ring, and having everyone know I was his.
I tried on the ring, to see if it fit, and incredibly, it did. Then I picked up the letter and began to read.
Dear Pete,
By the time you read this I will have left. I am going to Acapulco with Raoul. You know him. He was the guy you hired to do your landscaping. Well, he is a much better lover than you will ever be. I fucked him the first time three months ago when I came over to surprise you for your birthday. It was great.
You see, I came home from work, naked except for a bow on my chest. I know it was risky, but I needed a thrill. I was going to surprise you in your office. You would unwrap me, and we would have passionate love. I was going to make you good. Needless to say you were not there. You had left for your last minute business trip. I knew you were screwing around, and I was hurt. That's when Raoul came in.
He must have seen me going from my car to the house, and followed me in through the open door. I didn't know he was there watching me until he reached his hands around me and began massaging my tits. I was scared at first, but then I felt his cock rising between my still damp legs, and I lost control. I turned in his arms and looked him in the eyes. I only had to say one thing.
Fuck me.
He grabbed me by the thighs, and lifted me up. I wrapped my legs around his waist, and his cock naturally slid deep into my wet and waiting pussy, and when I say deep, Pete, I mean deep. His cock was no less than ten inches long. Much more than you have dearie.
Anyway, he carried me that way, sucking occasionally on my breasts, into your bedroom. There he laid me on the bed, lifted my legs over his shoulders and slammed deeply into me over and over. He lasted longer than you ever did, and I was able to orgasm just by his stroking. When he was spent, he traced kisses down my body, and began to eat me out.
Now I know, I said you were good at that, but I lied. It was only because I knew no better. He had skill unlike any I had ever seen before. He had me on the ragged edge of orgasm for an hour before finally he let me crash over it. When he presented his cock to me, I accepted it in my mouth. He pleased me so much, I felt it was right to suck him off as well.
Again I know I never sucked you. I thought It was sick. But when he gave me his cock it all felt so natural, and when he blew his second load in my mouth I swallowed. I liked the taste so much, that over that weekend I did not let him blow his load anywhere else but in my mouth. The only load I did not swallow after the first one in my pussy, was the one in my ass.
Yes, I even had anal sex with him. I did many things I did not do with you. He possessed me, and I liked it. It was not like you and your pussy fairy ways. I was sick of your, niceness. I wanted a man, not a partner. I found it in Raoul thanks to that weekend, and every Wednesday night thereafter until now.
Oh, and when I said all weekend, I mean all weekend. We used your bed, in your house, and fucked all weekend long. I get some satisfaction in telling you that. Here I was, your fiancee, in your house having an affair on you. Even when I found out you were not cheating on me, I didn't care. I was over you. I had better.
I finally enjoyed sex. I had it in my pussy, in my ass and down my throat. I did it standing, sitting, man above woman above, doggie style. I even had a threesome with double penetration, and A lesbian affair. I was finally awoken. And all, strangely enough, thanks to you. So, you dumb bastard, I have decided. Your possible earnings in a few years are not enough to keep me. I want sex that I just think you can't give. I am running away with Raoul.
Good riddance.
Millie.
"That bitch" I scream. How could she do such a thing to poor Peter. There is so little kindness in the world. I should know.
I wanted to kill her. I wanted to make her see her mistake. I wanted... Peter.
I stopped all thinking, but I knew it was true. I wanted to be Peter's wife with all my heart. Here was someone I trusted for the first time in my life. He was kind, and gentle. He was just the man I wanted. I would do anything to get him to love me, and when I had the money, I would have a pussy manufactured between my legs, and I would be his woman. I would do anything he wanted from me in the bedroom. I'd...
Just then I heard the car drive up the driveway. I panic. I pull the ring off my finger, shove it in the envelope with the letter and shove them in to the box. I shuffle everything back into order, and then I vacate his room. I am able to just meet him at the door.
"I'll just start the roast cooking and then we'll go get your car." he says as he carries the groceries in to the kitchen.
She shuts the door behind him, and follows him to the kitchen. She tries to find a way to tell him something, but she can't figure out how. He notices her squirming and asks her what she wants to say.
"Well, It's not that good an idea to leave an oven going while no one is in the house."
"Yes, I know that, but I wanted to make you a welcome home meal to celebrate your choice to stay here until you have an on campus house or something."
"I see," she continues. "Well, I don't really need my car tonight. Tomorrow is a weekend, and we could go in the morning."
"Are you sure?" he replies, "don't you want to change?"
"I have something to change into, I washed my things today."
"Well, if you are sure."
They smile at the happy compromise, and then they set to making the meal.
Once the dinner is in the oven and cooking, she leaves to go change, and he decides to take a shower and change as well. When they step out of their rooms, they look each other over and smile at what they see. Walking together down the hallway, they go to the living room.
She is wearing the skirt and sweater he found her in, but in addition, she has added the stockings he gave her, a tee shirt under the V-neck sweater and the heels she was wearing yesterday. He assumes she is wearing the underwear he also got her from the box.
He is in nice dockers, loafers, and a good button down. His hair is neatly combed back, and he has put on some cologne.
Once in the living room, they talk about their days, and about what Nancy is thinking she wants to become. When the conversation starts to wane, Nancy turns on the stereo, and light dance music begins to play. They talk about music for a while. Finally the dinner is done. They get up and get everything to the dinner table.
With dinner, Peter pours some wine, and proposes a toast.
"To Nancy, and luck in the school year to come."
They raise their glasses and toast, Nancy drinking wine for the first time ever, and then they start to eat. During the meal, Peter gives Nancy a wrapped present. When she opens it, she sees the course catalog to the local college. She smiles and thanks him profusely, and they continue to eat, in silence this time.
Soon the meal is through, and together they clean up. They take the wine, and retire to the living room and continue to talk. They talk late into the night, and drink all that time. Suddenly, Nancy jumps up, and grabs Peter's hand.
"Dance with me please, Peter. I love this song."
He can tell she is lightly drunk, but he decides why not. What's the harm.
They dance a while, stopping only to drink a little more.
Finally, it is well past midnight, and the dance program on the radio is done. The two don't part, however. Peter looks down, and sees Nancy looking up at him. He realizes he is holding her rather close to himself.
She, looking up at him, sees the same in reverse. She smiles, and then she raises herself up on her tip toes. Closing her eyes, she kisses him lingeringly on the lips.
He resists a moment, but before she is discouraged, he grabs her tightly, and begins to kiss her back passionately. His tongue flicks out, and finding a willing partner, he begins to explore her mouth with his tongue.
The kiss lasts at least ten minutes, but then as quickly as it started, it ends.
Peter breaks the embrace and backs off. He looks at her with an almost fear in his eyes.
He stammers. "I think... maybe... we... it's bedtime. We should go to bed."
After bidding him a hasty goodnight, Nancy runs off to the library, and closes the door.
Soon after, Peter closes up the house, and goes to bed himself.
I am such a fool. Why did I ever kiss him like that? He's repulsed; I know. He sent me away. It was only because he is so kind that he said it so nicely.
I sit on the futon and cry.
I am sure I'll be asked to leave in the morning. He'll ask me to get in my car when we get it and drive away. How can he live in a house where he knows I want him. He's not gay or anything, he won't want a half male girlfriend.
Hours pass, and I cry and berate myself for stepping over the line. Finally I can cry no more, and I decide to be nice to him in the morning. 'Maybe,' I think, 'if I am nice enough to him, he will let me stay.'
The thought lifts my spirits a little, and I am able to undress, and climb into bed.
Soon I fall into a fitful sleep.
I can't believe myself. What was I thinking? I stepped way over the line. I took advantage of her. Here she was, under the influence, and I take a harmless peck and turn it into a tongue wrestling session.
I sit on the couch and reflect on what I have done.
I broke her trust. Here she was probably doing no more than thanking me for dancing with her and I practically assault her. It's not like she wants an old man like me for a boyfriend or anything.
I make a resolution to myself. I will be extra kind to her, and maybe she won't leave me.
I smile to myself at the reassurance, and lock up the house. Then I go to bed.
My sleep is disturbed with dreams of her.
The next morning she is up early. She showers, and dresses in the jeans and tee-shirt outfit. Walking into the kitchen, she notices he is not awake yet, and decides to make him breakfast for a change. She is just finishing when he comes into the room.
He has dressed himself in much the same sort of clothes. Showing genuine surprise at her having made breakfast, he gets to setting the table.
Finally, they sit, and enjoy the meal together in silence.
Once finished, he thanks her and compliments her on her good cooking. She smiles her thanks, and begins clearing the dishes.
He helps her, and asks if she is ready to go get her stuff. He can drive her over.
She thanks him, and accepts.
Once the cleaning is done, they sit a moment to finish their coffees, and studiously avoid looking at each other. Finally, he breaks the silence.
"I... well... about last night."
"I'm sorry," she hastily responds. "I didn't mean it. I should have never kissed you like that."
"Oh no, I was wrong. Here you were, a guest, and I almost assault you."
"But, I'm... Well.. You know about me. I shouldn't have put you in that position to begin with."
"Huh? Oh that! That's nothing. I didn't really think of that at all. I just thought that after I had turned an innocent kiss into a necking session, you would get offended. I didn't want you thinking wrong of me."
She sits silently, staring at him in confusion. Thoughts swim in her head. He doesn't find me repulsive... He liked kissing me... He thought it was him and not me doing the wrong thing in that situation..
For that matter, he is struck with confusion as well. I really don't mind that she is really a he. He thinks. I mean, I actually don't mind at all... I could date this girl and be happy... What is wrong with me? Although, she is a better woman than SHE ever was...
They sit silently for a while, trying to work things though when finally he stands. He takes her empty mug, and his, and brings them to the sink. When he turns from rinsing them, she is standing silently beside him. She hugs him tightly, and he just holds her. She cries in his arms for a little, and then pulls away. She looks up, and smiles, and says one thing.
"Friends?"
"Yes. I think so." is the only way he can respond. "Well, we're burning daylight. Time to go."
She continues to smile, and lifts up on her toes again. Quickly kissing him on the lips, she turns and runs to the room he has lent her. She gets what she needs, and returns to the kitchen. He for his part, is still standing where she left him with a half grin on his face.
He snaps out of it, and follows her out of the house. He holds the door to his jeep open for her, and then he gets in himself. Within moments they are on the road, and off to get her car.
I can't believe it. He actually doesn't mind me. Doesn't mind that I am really half man, half woman. I'm sure he doesn't love me, but he won't make me leave.
I sit in his jeep, and watch him from the side of my eyes. He is just so handsome. His strong forearms deftly putting his car through it's paces and his beautiful eyes so intent on the road just draw my attention.
It takes us a little while, but all too soon, we are at the little park where the rape happened. I can't help but shudder, and get apprehensive. The events of that night not so long ago repeat in my head.
He has stopped the jeep, and is at my door holding it open for me before I notice. I look over, and he must see the fear in my eyes. He holds his arms out for me, and I go to him. He whispers in my ear,
"I'm here. I won't leave you. I promise."
I sigh, wishing he were saying that to me in Love, but I know he is just being his kind self, and have to settle for that.
Still in his arms, we begin walking to where I parked my car. It was in a secluded portion of the park, and was somewhat of a walk to get to. In a pleasant little while, we were there. That is when I began to cry again. My car had been broken into.
I know it was not that much of a car. I had bought it with the proceeds of many summer jobs that I saved up, and didn't spend. I had been planning my escape since I was thirteen, and had prepared everything. I knew I would need a car to escape, and so I saved, and made a deal with an old lady to buy her old vehicle. And now, here it was, broken into and vandalized.
Peter left my side, and began looking over the car. I stood and cried until he came back, and held me again.
"It's alright. I don't think anything much is taken."
"But they hurt my car."
He smiled. "I don't think it is hurt at all. There seem to be no windows broken, and there is no vandalism. I think it was just a few winos looking for money."
"Are you sure?"
"I am."
I could not help but smile for him when he leaned down and kissed my forehead. He helped me into the car, and handed me his house key.
"Will you be alright going home alone? I have a few things I have to do, but I will be there right after you."
I told him I thought so. I knew how to get back, and thought I could begin unpacking my car and seeing what was missing.
He told me that the closets in the library were empty, and that he had a few dressers that he would move in for me when he got back. He closed my door, and waited while I started the motor. Then he watched me drive away.
I drove back in a daze, and then, when I got to his house, I began unpacking. It took me quite a while, and I did not notice when Peter returned.
I was just finishing putting away all my clothes that needed to be hung in the closet, and I turned around to see him standing in the doorway and just looking at me with this sort of half smile on his face. When he noticed I was looking back at him, he seemed to startle out of a trance, and began to look away. He muttered something about having to move some of the books to take down the shelves if I wanted to have dressers.
I smiled as I replied that I didn't mind the books, I actually quite liked to read. I couldn't help but notice him blushing.
In the end, we came to a compromise. Some of the books were really work books, and he would put them in the office. Then, the remainder would be split between our bedrooms, and we could share them that way. He set me to removing the sections of books that now would reside in the office, while he went out to the barn, and collected the dressers and a vanity table he said he had.
In a few hours, we had over two thirds of the books, and bookcases, gone, he had delivered the furniture he had promised, and I had it all filled. We finished about ten that evening, and decided a quick meal of leftovers, and bed soon after, was much preferred.
We talked a little during dinner, and when we finished, he bade me goodnight. I ran up to him, and gave him a quick kiss, and then I ran to my room. I couldn't help but giggle like a little girl. I knew one thing.
I loved him.
I watched her leave the park, and I couldn't help but feel sorry for her. She had been raped, and then she had her car broken into. I don't know how anyone deserved that. Once she had gone, I walked back to my jeep, and got in.
I went over in my head what I was going to have to get at the hardware store to make a better bed for her, and the things I would need to relocate the shelves to my bedroom.
The trip to the hardware and lumber store was quick, and, since delivery was free, all I had to do was order what I wanted, and pay. The trip home was even faster, all I thought of was her.
When I finally got home, I went in, and walked down the hall to her room. She was leaning into her closet hanging things away, and her beauty just caught me. Her tee-shirt was riding up, and it was revealing the nicest waistline I had seen in a long time.
The way her hair was rolled up in a bun was also catching my eye. The little wisps that snuck out on her, and tickled her long pale neck. The way her breasts seemed to peek around her chest and under her arm at me and the way her tight ass flexed when she reached up on tip toe to put a box or some such thing up high, turned me on more than I ever imagined possible. I didn't ever once think of her as anything other than "her".
I didn't realize I was staring, however, until she finished, and turned around and looked at me staring at her. I was flustered, and could feel the blood rush to my face as I looked away. We discussed what plans I had made for her room, and she smiled, and accepted most everything I planned. She only balked at my offer to take all the books out of her room. We finally compromised, and all was well.
For quite a few hours after that, we worked together, side by side often, and got her room shipshape. We elected not to have a real meal for dinner, but I enjoyed it nonetheless. When finally we said our goodnights, I was surprised but happy when she gave me a quick kiss. I went to bed happy, and you know why?
I could not help but think, 'I love this girl.'
Time passes as time does. In days, her room is completed, and she settles down to begin her schooling. The topic of her moving out when school started is never brought up, and consequently she never leaves their home. He, for his part, goes back to working in his home office, and helps her out with any problems that arise.
When her school transcripts are held up, he gets her a scholarship through his company and sends it with a letter stating that any delay in her entrance would displease the company. A small, but effective, lie due to the fact that the company aids the school in a lot of its computing needs.
When he asked her why her transcripts were probably delayed, however, she became apprehensive, and uncharacteristically of her, she clammed up. He dropped the matter, but kept it in the back of his mind. This puzzle he felt was something she needed to get out in order to heal. She had told him all about the rape, and she had since seemed to have put it behind her, but this thing was different, and still with her.
He remembered it vividly one day while working on a problem in his office. She had just popped her head in the door to say goodbye before going to classes for the day. She was wearing mostly what she had been wearing the day he had found her, and it triggered his memory of the story she had related.
I had been sitting in my living room watching a movie. She came in from the kitchen, and she was bringing with her a bowl of popcorn. She was smiling, and remarked that she had finally finished her homework, and would I mind if she watched the tube with me. I, of course, did not, and she settled herself on the couch beside me, curled her feet up beneath her, and placed the bowl between us. It sort of rested on both of our thighs, bridging the gap, as it were.
Anyway, we were watching an old Vietnam movie, (I had asked if she wanted to change it, and she said she didn't mind) when there was this rape scene. I almost didn't realize the significance in time, and was only just able to switch off the channel.
She was sitting there, and staring at the tv, when I looked over. She didn't move for quite a while as I asked her if she was alright. Then she just went berserk.
She jumped off the couch spewing popcorn all over. She was wailing something terrible, and I just chased her. I followed her to her room, and grabbed her, hugging her to me. She beat her hands against my chest for a while, but finally she began to calm. She sobbed into my shirt, and clenched her hands in the fabric.
I just held her tightly in a hug, and whispered soothing things into her hair. Finally her sobs slowed, and her arms wrapped around me and hugged me tightly. In a little while, she pulled away from me, and looked up. She thanked me for being there, and I asked her if she wanted to talk about it. She nodded, and I led her to the kitchen where I made us some coffee. I sat beside her and listened to her talk.
I sat there beside him for a little while, still collecting myself over that cup of coffee. When I was able to finally speak, I spun out the tale of my rape.
I had just entered town, and I was tired of driving. I saw the park, and since it was such a beautiful evening, I decided to take a walk by the pond. The sun was just going down, and I thought the sunset would be beautiful. I don't know how long I sat there on that bench after the sun was gone and I heard the voices. I wasn't scared, but they did cause me to remember the time, and think about finding somewhere to stay.
I was walking back to my car in a dark tree-covered part of the park when they came upon me. There were seven of them. Young men in leather and carrying bottles of alcohol, shouting and laughing in the dark. I tried to get past them without them noticing, but one of them did see me, and brought it to the attention of the others.
They started with the whistles and comments about how nice my legs and breasts looked, and then they got up and began following me. I noticed them behind me, and began to walk faster. I don't know if that was the wrong thing or not, but it seemed to get them more rowdy. When one said something about how I would look nice with my legs spread, I knew what they were thinking, and decided to run.
I was slower than I know I could be because of the high heels I insisted on wearing, and worst of all, before I could get to the lighter part of the park, I tripped. In moments they were all around me.
I pleaded and begged for them to leave me alone, that I knew they didn't want to get into trouble over something like this. They just laughed and drank their wine and leered at me. I was backing away, when the first one moved.
One of them, standing in front of me, grabbed my ankle, and dragged me towards him. I was pulled prone by the violent pull, and another quickly jumped into the act. He grabbed my right arm, and pulled it tightly to the side. In moments I had a man at each of my arms and legs, and I was being pulled spread eagled.
The leader I guess, reached down, and at the insistence of his gang, he grabbed roughly at my breasts. He commented to the others how nice and big and firm they were, as he massaged and pulled them through my shirt. Then he reached down, and whipped up my skirt. Seeing that I had on only a garterbelt and panties under it, he flipped open a switchblade and Cut the side band of my panties.
That is when things started going real bad.
The man pulled my panties off roughly, and exposed what resided there between my legs. My cock, hidden until now was fully exposed to their view. They just stopped and stared. I fought to get loose, and that seemed to spur them to action.
"This chick is a man!" one screamed. "We'll make him a woman tonight though, won't we boys." the leader responded. I tried to scream, to fight, to do anything, but they held tightly to me, and the leader shoved my panties in my mouth. I was quickly stripped of my clothing, and they spared no time on buttons or such whenever they slowed them down. They used the knife or ripped them off forcibly whenever they wished.
Whenever I tried to fight back, or escape, I was punched or slapped. One time I was even kicked. Finally, when I could do no more, I just cried and let them do as they wished. The leader took me first.
He had his gang hold me in the 'doggie' style, and without any care for me, he drove himself roughly into me. He took my ass fast and rough, and came deep within my ass. As soon as he was done, the next took his place. Then another. It all sort of started to blend together. I vaguely remember the one that came on my face, and the one that put his cigarette out on me.
I was subjected to each of them at least twice each until finally they stopped.
I curled myself into a ball, wrapping the shreds of cloth still on me about my naked body, and only slightly heard them talking above me. I think they were trying to decide wether or not to kill me. That is when Peter came.
He came down the hill, shouting at them to clear out. I think that they were about to rush him, and beat him or something when all of a sudden they ran away. I was startled at their rapid departure, and looked up to see what had sent them away.
There was Peter. He was wielding a pistol, and looking at the direction they left in. When they were gone long enough for him, he looked down at me, and smiled an apologetic smile. All I could tell him when he asked if I wanted some help was "no police... please... no police."
That is when I passed out.
He remembers all this, and is lost in daydreaming about her. He wastes a day without realizing it until she walks into his office, and shakes his attention to her. He smiles and makes small excuses for his lapse of attention, but she just laughs them off. She tells him that he needs a vacation.
He agrees with her, but tells her that since his Fiancee left him, he had not wanted to go anywhere but to work. He didn't know what there was to do anymore. The sudden thought of his ex-fiancee strikes him, and his face drops a little. "The damn bitch" He whispers quietly, and balls a hand into a fist, then with a shake, he tries to ignore the feelings.
He chuckles softly, and makes to go back to work, when she stops him with a gentle hand to the arm. She hugs his head to her stomach where she stands beside her, and strokes his hair. Trapped in this soft embrace, he just lets go his emotions and cries. She soothes him with quiet words, and tells him she knows all about it. Tells him it wasn't his fault, she was just wrong, and he deserved better. Someone that cared for him. Someone who cared as much as she does...
There was an awkward moment of silence as he raised his face to look at her. She seemed surprised to have said what she said, but she didn't turn away. Finally, to break the silence, he stands up before her, and embraces her in a tight hug. He thanks her for saying such a kind thing to him, and for helping him through a rough moment.
She told him she didn't mind, and she would leave him now to finish up work for the day. Dinner would be ready in a little while. She smiled to him, squeezed him tightly one last time and left the room. He sat down and thought over what had been said, and explored exactly what he felt about it.
Why oh why did I ever say that? I mean, I was pushing things too hard. I know he needed comforting and all that, he was hurting from the way he was dumped by that bitch of a fiancee. I was there and I cared for him, so I held him until the crying was done. It was only something a good friend would do up until that point, then I had to say that I cared about him. Oh Nancy, why do you always do these things to yourself?
I left him as quickly as I could and went in to the kitchen. I finished the preparations for supper that I had started, and waited for his eventual arrival.
It was amazing. She was so right, about everything. I did need a vacation. The Bitch was wrong. I did deserve better.
I started to really think about the past few months we had been living together. All the things we continually did for each other, the little things. The way we would spend our nights together when she didn't have any homework to do. The way she and I shared the household chores. The bitch never even lived in what I wanted to be our home half as much as she does now. We were as close as two people ever get. And she was right about one more thing too...
I needed someone who cared as much as she does... I needed her.
In a little while, he entered the kitchen. She was standing at the sink, washing out the lettuce for a salad. He stepped up behind her and wrapped her tightly in a hug. She smiled and leaned back into his arms reflexively.
"You are right," he said, " I do need a vacation. What are you doing this weekend?"
"It's a long weekend for me this week, what do you have planned?"
"Well, I haven't planned anything yet, because I wanted you to come with me."
She smiled, "Why would you want to do a thing like that? You should have some time off by yourself."
"I've been alone for too long. I want to be with you. Will you go?"
She turned within his arms slowly and looked him in the eyes. "Is this what you want?" There was only a small hint of nervousness in her voice.
"Definitely. I can think of no one I'd rather be with."
He slowly leaned down, his intent clear, and she responded quickly. In moments they were kissing, lightly at first, but with an increasing passion. He pulled her in tightly to him, and she responded by pressing her breasts to his chest and opening her mouth to his tongue. Finally, a short while later, they broke from each other and just looked into each other's eyes.
She took his hand, and turning off the stove, she dragged him down the hall to his bedroom. Once there, she fell into his arms again and once more was kissing him. He did not hesitate on minute, and soon was caressing her whole body while he held her close. Then, she stopped him once more.
"Are you sure you want to go further, you know what I am..."
"Of course I do. You are a person that I have fallen in love with and you seem to have fallen in love with me."
"I have"
"Then how can there be a problem?"
And with this, he took her up in his arms, and carried her to the bed. He sat beside her, and started to undress her slowly. First the sweater came off her, and then her blouse was unbuttoned. He leaned down and kissed the soft skin at the junction of neck and chest. She lifted up her hand to grip in his hair, but he pulled away gently. His hands moved downward to her pants and unbuttoned them. He slowly worked them down over her hips and down her legs. Soon she was lying there clad only in her panties and bra. That is when he stood up.
He quickly removed his shirt, and drew down his pants. He stripped off his boxers, and stood before her, hard and standing tall.
She sat up in the bed, and reached out. Taking his cock in her hands, she slowly began to stroke it. Then she leaned forward and took it in her mouth. He reached down his hand and started to stroke her hair as he groaned with the contact.
She slowly took his cock deep within her throat and began to suck and caress it with her tongue. He was being slowly driven mad with the desire he had for her. He reached further with his hands, and deftly released her bra with one hand as the other started to draw it off her ample breasts. Once freed, he began to caress and fondle them, lightly pinching and rolling the nipples. A groan emerged from her throat at the touch to her breasts.
In his current state, he could not take much of the stimulation he was getting, and told her just that. When he said that she should stop soon or he would come in her throat, she just grabbed him about the waist and drew him into her tighter. The swallowing sucking motion she was treating his cock to was soon too much, and he came into her throat. She swallowed all of his release, and licked his cock clean as she drew it out of her mouth. He just sat beside her and looked into her eyes before drawing her into a long deep kiss.
Moments later, he again laid her down upon the bed, and he began to kiss down her body, stopping to caress and suck upon her breasts, then pausing shortly at her navel, and finally he reached the band to her panties. She tried to stop him, but he fended her off.
"I don't want you to see my cock, Peter."
"Why not, it's part of you, and I love you?"
"But, I want to be a woman for you. I can't with that."
"You are more woman than Millie ever was, what your body looks like has nothing to do with it. You care for me and I care for you."
With that he grasped her panties, and drew them down over her hips and down her thighs. Her cock, no longer trapped between her legs by the cloth of the panties she wore, snapped upright and stood proudly. He took it reverently within his hand, and began to slowly stroke it. As he stroked it, he returned to lying beside her and continued kissing her gently.
She in turn, took his cock in hand, and started to stroke it once more, slowly starting it on it's way to hardness once more. The feel of his lips on her, and his hand about her, however, was sending her quickly on her way. She was beginning to orgasm, swiftly but surely. In moments it was past the point of no return, and she loosed herself into his loving hand.
"Quick, Peter. Use my come as lubricant, I want you in me."
He did as he was told, and she rolled fully upon her back, and lifted and spread her legs to give him access to her ass hole. He lathered up his cock with her juice, and placed his now hard cock at the entrance to her. Then getting her nod, began pressing it into her. He was unsurprised at the ease at which he entered her.
Soon, he was in her all the way, his belly was pressed tightly to the backs of her thighs, and she was smiling up at him. Then he began to stroke out and back in to her. Her ass was tight on his cock, and the feeling of her quivering muscle gripping him along his length was starting him on the way to a second orgasm. She just moaned and grunted on each thrust under his weight.
As he thrusted, he reached down and began pulling and caressing her nipples, making them stand tall and hard on the ends of her large heaving breasts. She just grasped his hands with her own, and pressed them tightly to her breasts, loving the feel of him finally with her in bed. She could do nothing but lose herself in the feelings of sex with this man.
In what felt like no time to both of them, he was once more well on his way to orgasm, and she was close behind. To speed her along, he reached between them, and started to stroke and knead the sensitive head of her still soft cock. The pressure of his cock within her would not allow her cock to grow, but it did not inhibit the feelings that the tip of it could generate. Soon she was screaming out a second orgasm, and drooling more come out of her cock into his hand.
She took his hand, and as she was coming down off her orgasm, began to lick the spunk off his hand. This was too much, and he came himself, spending himself deep within her. Finally finished, he collapsed off to her side, and his softening cock fell out of her with a plop. She rolled over, and cuddled into his chest while he wrapped her in his arms.
Together like that, they fell softly to sleep.
The next morning I woke up, and looked down on her smiling sleeping face. I remembered the first time I saw her face like this. Smiling at some happy dream. She was just as beautiful today. I kissed her softly on the forehead, and she stirred a little under the covers. She must have gotten up and covered us in the night, I thought.
Gently I stroked her hair as she rose slowly to wakefulness. She smiled happily up at me, and kissed me good morning. I responded fully, happy that she was with me. I told her just that, and she beamed even more if it is possible.
Finally, though, I had to ask. Why was she living as a woman? She nestled up against me, and only losing a little of her happiness she had upon waking, began to tell me her story.
I was born Nick Delahunt. My parents were good people, and they loved me very much, at least as long as I knew them. They died when I was nine in a car accident. I had no other living relatives, so I was sent off to a foster home. That is where my life went to hell.
My foster mother, Mistress Alex, didn't like boys. She thought we were dirty, mean, and abusive from birth. As a result, she didn't want to take me in. When she found out she had to, she decided I was going to be punished for being male.
She started by putting me on hormones. As I had not yet reached puberty, I was immediately kept from reaching any kind of adult male state. I developed instead exactly as I would have had I been born female, all except for my cock. As you can see, it didn't grow very big, but it didn't stop working either. I just grew breasts, and hips and all the other things a girl gets when she develops on top of it.
The next thing she did, was change my name and records and made me go to school as a girl. Even though I liked math and science, I was punished whenever I did well in them. I could only do good in the "girl" subjects. In high school I couldn't even think of taking shop, but Home Ec? Quite alright.
At home, I would be whipped and locked into a box if I failed to keep the house spotless, or if I failed to entertain her guests to the furthest of my ability. Some nights I was given to male guests as a nightly diversion. I had to suck their cocks and be fucked by them, and any other perversion they wanted of me. If I failed to, I was beaten and otherwise tortured. Thankfully when I got to high school, the abuse lessened.
She found herself a husband, I don't know how, and she also got a real foster daughter. Whenever they were out, I got the same as always, but between times, I could at least pretend I was a real girl and do normal things. I got a job, and saved up money. In the end I saved enough for a car, and the chance to go to college. I tried to get free.
When I couldn't get my transcripts, I thought it was over. I'm sure she had been behind that, but thanks to you, I got in, and now I have you and I am finally free of her. And I am happy for the first time in my life since my parents died.
That day, they spent the whole time together in bed. Then they went on the vacation he promised her that weekend. They dated a while all the next school year, but to them it was a forgone conclusion. She did feel special when at a company party he gave her that ring, just as she had thought, and he showed her off to all his friends with pride and love. No one was surprised when just one year later, they were married. No one witnessed it, but when a woman came to take Nicole back home where she belonged, Peter was there blocking the way. He sent her away with a threat to call the police, and to take her in hand if she got violent. It might have been the look in his eyes when she threatened Nikki that finally convinced her that he was serious.
To this day, they live happily together. Him not caring that she looks like him under her skirt, and her finally free of the life she hated by giving in to it, and being a woman to her husband.