Don't read this if you shouldn't or you don't want to. If you do read it, I'd appreciate knowing what you think.
by Vickie Tern
Don just stared at me, speechless. "Oh, yes!" he said. I'd opened the pearly gates to him, and he'd just glimpsed heaven.
"Have you any idea what that way is? Are you willing?"
He had no idea. His mouth involuntary kissed and sucked the air as if it were Sally's pussy. "Yes! Please, Jenny. Anything! Tell me what to do."
"I will. This very morning we'll fix it. You'll do everything I say whether you like it or not? I guarantee you'll like it a lot, maybe not right away but sooner or later!"
He looked a little wary.
"Or you can go back to this bruiser who lives in your dorm room and ask him for more closet space."
"All right," he said, looking resigned, scared, hopeful, and happy all at the same time. What a weird kid! "I'll do whatever you say. Anything!"
"Great! That's a promise! That's what I like to hear. Now, it's easy! You'll move in with us here and let your roommate tyrannize someone else. Next, there's your student ID and Freshman Handbook photo this morning. You won't want to look the way you look now for that because you'll need an ID that sort of authorizes you to live in our suite. Also, Sally's father might some day look through the handbook to find out what his daughter's seducer looks like, if he hears there's this person making his daughter impure night after night. So you'll need to look different."
"I guess so."
None of the obvious questions, like how would Sally's father ever know who or what to look for even if he did suspect that someone was sleeping with his repurified daughter. Fear and a guilty conscience clouded his mind, maybe? I remember when I lost my virginity in ninth grade how scared I was that my parents would find out. Then I discovered that my seducer Tommy Bellagio was even more scared than I was that his parents would find out. So I made him wait on me hand and foot for nearly the whole rest of that year. He did all sorts of perverted and disgusting things for me, until he finally realized I'd never tattle on him anyhow. Nor on any of the other guys who'd followed him into my pants during that same year. I mean, I mean, if they knew, my parents would be even more furious than his parents, and I'd never hear the end of it. So why ruin a good thing?
So I went on. "We'll disguise you. You do what I say, no questions, we can fix it." I looked at him appraisingly. "What did Sally tell you about your hair?"
He blushed. "She rolled it up out of the way so it wouldn't get wet from her...from my licking her. There were lots of little plastic rods -- she took them out only this morning. She says you'll know what to do next. It looks a little like a girl's, like I said."
"It's the kind of style girls like, that's true. Sally likes it, you told me yourself. So I'm sure you'll get to like it too." In another minute, he'll figure it out for himself, I was thinking. How we mean to hide him in plain sight. I studied him. Yes, I decided, small rollers in front for a curly pom-pom, sort of, and large in back to make smooth waves falling to his shoulders. A high maintenance hairdo, one he'll need to set every night, supposedly to protect it from the moisture of Sally's crotch. Well, he might as well get used to the one big thing about being a girl right off, how much trouble it is for us to make ourselves attractive to guys so they'll want to do things for us. Yes, that'll be Don's hairdo. With his small chin and his wide cheekbones he'll look really adorable! Like a pet poodle!
"But now we need to go get some breakfast," I said. "There's donuts and Danish and stuff down in the lower lounge. No need to get dressed, it'll just be us girls there -- here, borrow one of my robes."
Ordinarily we made coffee and tea in the suite, and ate whatever was left of last night's midnight snacks, cold cuts, cold pizza, whatever. But I wanted to get Don out and seen by everybody right off. So they'd accept him as just one more Quintette project and pay no further attention. So he'd know he looks acceptable. So he'd think everything else we do to him is also nothing much. So he'd get used to looking like a girl before he figured out that he couldn't be anything else any more, because that's what people thought him.
I reached for the frilliest, fluffiest pink robe I own, and held it out to him. A birthday present from one of my poets last year, Jeremy, who thought I was all air and froth and the scent of lilies, and never even once dipped his head down south to see what I really smelled like.
He took it from me but then stood paralyzed, staring at it. Despite his pledge to obey me he started to draw in breath to object. So I distracted him. I played a real dirty trick on him. I twisted out from under the bed covers, knowing my nightie had crawled high up around my waist, and I put my feet on the floor. My crotch was now fully exposed to his startled eyes. I'd shaved it all through last year because I'd noticed that the sight of a naked cunt got guys harder faster and kept them harder longer. But during the summer I'd let it grow out into a little Bikini trim. So Don found himself staring directly at one more split, topped by a neat little patch of fur.
"Ay!" He yipped as if I'd burnt him, and he jumped back, gawking wide-eyed. As if unaware of any of this I spread my legs wide, closed my eyes, leaned way back, stretched my arms way back, and yawned. He saw my pussy lips pulled way apart down there, I was sure, and maybe he could see halfway up my pussy hole too. Then I seemed to notice his crazed gaze.
"Something wrong, Don honey? What are you staring at?"
"Gakkkkkk," he tried to explain. "Your ... guk!"
"Oh, that! My split! You've seen girls' splits before! Didn't you just spend the night kissing Sally's? Get used to it, honey, you'll be seeing a lot of pussy from now on. It's no big deal. Because we don't intend to hide ours from you all the time. While you live here, you'll have to think of yourself as one of us."
"As one of you," he repeated, obviously wondering what I meant."
"It's a perfect disguise," I added.
"What is?" He really didn't have a clue!
"That we're all girls here," I said.
"Yes, I know you are. This is a girls' suite."
"No, you don't know yet. I said 'we're all girls.' I mean all of us!"
Don was now silent. I think it was dawning on him, what I meant.
"You too, Don," I said, staring directly at him.
He stared back.
"You're a girl now too. We've already decided that. You agreed to do everything I say. That's what I say. Because it's the only way!"
"I'm ....." He couldn't finish. Plainly. somewhere inside him a male ego felt threatened and was trying to protest. Interesting! He actually had one!
"While you're here you're one of us, Don. That's how you get to sleep with Sally every night instead of that roommate they gave you. That's how you'll hide in plain sight from Sally's father. I hereby declare you an honorary girl!"
Don remained silent, his mouth open just a little. In anguish? Trying to find the right words to use to protest? Not easy for a shy boy who can't easily say anything. He was a piece of cake, and soon he'd be a cupcake!
"We're all stretching just a little here, Don," I said casually, reassuringly. "We're all making concessions, aren't we? All for you! Sally's father will be looking for a boy if the word gets out that you're sleeping with his daughter. That mustn't be you. And the resident advisers won't want to know that there's a boy living here -- they try hard never to notice anything, but we can't be too obvious, we've got to give them a break, meet them halfway, right? Also, if there's a boy living here all the time, some of our boyfriends will begin to wonder about it, and then there's no telling what they'd do, especially the jocks. They can get very jealous. No telling!" I looked at him solemnly, as if wondering where we'd bury his battered body, and how I'd notify his mother.
Don looked equally grave.
"But it's not a problem. You'll just blend in with us a little, that's all. Look the way we look. You'll get used to it, don't give it another thought! Just think of yourself as one of us, and you'll be fine. It isn't as if you were a real girl. You'll still be yourself. So who cares? C'mon, put this robe on and lets go join the other girls."
I had him. He knew the score. The robe was a disguise for his own safety, so he'd blend in, and besides, he'd already promised to do whatever I told him. Above all it was his ticket of admission to the House of Pussy, specifically Sally's. When I referred to "the other girls" I pronounced him a member of our club and he didn't object. My reasoning had overwhelmed him.
He began to slip the robe on. With his poodle curls topping his small face he actually did look more girl than boy! I grabbed another similar robe from my closet and we went into the suite living room, all pink and fluffy and feminine-looking, both of us.
Beth, Maureen, Elvira, and of course Sally were already there, waiting for us all to go down for coffee all together, so as a group we'd reveal to everyone else in the building that he was one of ours, not a free lance. So there'd be no further questions about him -- the whole dorm was accustomed to different stuff we did with our guys, and they always played along. When Sally saw him coming in she smiled wide and seemed to leap at him, though she hardly moved.
"Oh, here's the darling of my dreams, my sweet honey tongue! I've just been telling the other girls what a wonderful night we've just spent together! How darling! I love that robe! Is it yours?"
"It is now," I said. "Dawn understands that while he's living with us he mustn't stand out. He needs to look like us." It crossed my mind that with the hormones we were feeding him, he soon wouldn't be standing out any other way either. "Maureen, Beth, Elvira, meet Dawn. Dawn is our new honorary girl!" As expected, he didn't even notice he was no longer 'Don.' He was probably still trying to wrap his mind around 'honorary girl.' Was that as bad as being called a real girl? What were its duties and obligations?
"Wait just a minute! Who says this man is an honorary girl?"
A sharp, angry statement! I looked up surprised, and saw that Elvira was staring at him as if furious.
"He's not a girl!" she said contemptuously. "Where's his vagina? Where's his whole girlhood, his whole life until now spent learning how to be sweet and gentle, sugar and spice and all, the way we are?"
Oh! That was the tipoff. Elvira was all vinegar and vitriol where men were concerned. If she couldn't dominate a guy right off, get him interested in her "games" as she called them -- she'd forget he existed. I waited to see where she was going.
"Sure he looks cute right now! Maybe he's an honorary girl to you! But he's only a boy in drag to me! I insist that right now he acknowledge that he can never be what I am, a real woman. I need to know that every time he sees me, he'll be willing to kiss my ass!" She glared at Don. He looked addled, first at the ceiling, then at his bare feet, unable even to swallow.
"No, not your ass!" It was Sally, using her littlest little girl voice. She sounded so shocked! "That would be a terrible waste! He has a fantastic mouth, Elvira! I love it, and you should too! So let me propose this. Dawn doesn't have a vagina of his own, the poor dear, so every morning first thing he should honor those who do! Every morning when he sees each of us he can prove that he isn't exercising male privilege and being patriarchal and all, prove that he respects us as women, by kneeling down and giving each of us a good morning kiss on our mounds. If we should happen to spread our legs just a little bit, he'll know that we want to give him a special treat, and he'll give us a real wet sloppy smooch on our pussies! Honor ours precisely because he doesn't have one of his own." She smiled. "He's really very good at it," she added, as if the point needed further persuading.
Elvira appeared to think this through, and then said grudgingly, "Well, all right! At least that way we can all feel a little safer, even though we're living with someone who might feel superior to us and can take advantage of us." The issue was settled. That issue, anyhow.
Well, not quite. Beth piped up with kindly concern. "Is that all right with you, Dawn? Are you willing, and all? It sounds nice. But we wouldn't want you to do anything you don't want to do."
Don was hopelessly tongue-tied. He made a single strangled noise, then dropped his head, defeated. I saw and answered for him. "Dawn is willing as long as Sally doesn't mind -- remember that Dawn's first loyalty is to Sally's pussy. I think I can say safely that if at any time any one of us wants to remind him he wasn't born one of us, that he's only an honorary girl, we can remind him simply by showing him our pussies."
"Right, Sally said. "That's how he'll know his place. But he's mine. He plays lickety split only with me!"
I turned to Don. "Are you willing, Dawn? Do you understand what we've all agreed?"
He stared at me. This whole situation was now altogether out of control. He made another moaning sound. I leaned forward. Barely audible, he asked, "Jennifer, what should I do?"
I stood straight up, and did my best to sound like a magistrate sentencing some criminal to harsh punishment. I said loudly, "Dawn, right now what you should do is go down on your knees and honor Sally's pussy. Then mine. Then each of the rest of us!"
He looked mournfully at me for a moment. Probably he was considering his alternative, which was to leave, to walk away while he still could. Even an overbearing roommate might be easier to live with than this. But he was dressed in a frivolous woman's robe, and his hair was permed, and who knows where his clothes were? Maybe not even Sally. She could get kittenish. She once dropped a guy's clothes out of her window one article at a time, while he watched her and did nothing about it, because he understood that was her price for sleeping with him all night, her test of his sincerity. Then the next morning she watched him prance all around the courtyard stark naked as he tried to recover them, calling out encouragement in a voice that could be heard in the next county.
As I knew he would, Don took the path of least resistance. He dropped to his knees in front of Sally.
She was seated on a folding bridge chair, and as he settled in front of her she scuttled her butt forward and thrust her pelvis at him and spread her knees far apart, then sat there waiting. Her own bathrobe covered her thighs. After a moment Don picked up the hem and ducked his head under. We saw the lump of his head arrive roughly in the latitude of her lap and then remain there, perfectly still. Not altogether still, though, because Sally soon began to smile, then to wriggle her hips and moan. Faster and faster.
Finally she breathed, "Not now, no more lover! Oooh it's so good! Later!"
She pulled her hips back in a dismissive gesture. I sat down on the arm of an easy chair and spread my own legs as wide as I could, and said, "Just a peck, cousin. But on the wet part! You know where it is."
As I expected, I felt his lips on my lips, and then a single lick of his tongue. Sally's already trained him, I thought, he can't just peck at a pussy, his tongue has to come right out and do its thing. More to the point, I felt his nose nuzzle my clit, and I lifted my crotch to nuzzle him back, just once, for encouragement. He felt good!
Maureen was next, standing, impatient to go down and get breakfast. It was obvious that her mind was elsewhere. "I've got a test in an hour," she said. "So just kiss my crotch through my panties, Dawn, and we'll call that enough for now."
Beth was seated on our upholstered chair awaiting her turn. "Now, you're sure you want to?" she asked earnestly. Don didn't respond, he just knelt there looking at her knees. He needed help. Beth was nothing if not charitable. So she suddenly pulled her housecoat all the way to her waist and spread her legs wide, as far wide as they'd go! And there was her twat, Ziggy's pearly gates until the Lord decreed he could enter the other ones, a huge furry muff! "Dive in," she said. Don leaned forward, and then like a lift bridge closing, her legs folded over his shoulders and then around the back of his head, clamping his mouth to her vulva. "He wants to," she decided aloud.
What he did down there none of us could tell, but after a moment Beth's eyes glazed over, and her pelvis begin to rise and fall rhythmically with her breathing. Faster and faster, then with a strain and a squeal she lifted her buttocks high up! I worried for a moment that she might break Don's neck. But a moment later her spasm subsided and she released him.
Still breathing heavily, she said to everyone in the room, "Ohhh, yes! Every morning! Is that OK?" None of us saw any reason why not. "Ziggy never wants to do that. Maybe if Don shows him how he'll be a little more friendly that way."
"Oh?" Elvira looked annoyed. "Your boyfriend doesn't know how to give head? How to honor his fiancee properly? He thinks he has a choice? Give me one night with him and he'll be eating all his meals from between your legs for the rest of his life ."
Then she looked Don over. He was sweating now, or maybe it was his face glistening from Beth's pussy juice. "You don't deserve to kiss my private parts yet," she told him. "I wanted you to kiss my ass, so that's what you'll do." She turned and raised her nightie and bent over, and there they were, Elvira's rotund globes perched above her enormous thighs. Elvira carried weight all right.
"Crawl over here! Don't stand up!"
Don crawled over, and then lightly kissed one of Elvira's buns.
"No, asshole, kiss my asshole! Let's see a meeting of like minds! Spread me wide! Burrow in deep until your lips find it!"
Don did. We watched amazed! His face went a long way down into her crack, and her cheeks almost covered his ears when finally she went, "Ahhh! and wriggled, and then said "Good!"
Don withdrew, and just remained stone still on his knees, his head hanging down. He obviously felt defeated in some obscure way. Pussywhipped? Asswhipped? So far his college experience was not what he'd anticipated.
I took pity on him, and said in a sprightly voice, "OK, cuz! It'll be a lot easier tomorrow! But now, congratulations! You've just recited the pledge of allegiance! You're now our honorary girl. You're one of us! Isn't he?"
I looked around. If anyone wanted to play any more games with him this morning, my tone of voice warned them off. They all nodded encouragement, then gathered around to hug him, to welcome him into the fold. His hang dog expression changed -- he began to look vaguely pleased. Here were five girls being affectionate all at once, how could he not be pleased? Maureen looked into his face and actually kissed him on the cheek. I realized that the ceremony had worked for her, that he'd just changed gender in her own mind -- boys were for playing tricks with, but girls were for being affectionate with each other. Even Elvira looked approving now, though as always her smile was a bit grim.
"Good!" I said. "Let's all go down to breakfast. Does anyone have a bra Dawn can wear until we can get him one of his own? This robe ties around the waist, but it doesn't stay closed up above. If it opens too far someone might notice he lacks breasts."
"Jennifer!" This time the frightened outcry came from Don himself. "I can't wear one of those! Real girls wear those!"
Sally instantly to the rescue. "Now Dawn honey, we don't want anyone to know you're a boy. Besides, you know that your chest is very precious to me. I want your nipples properly covered at all times when you're in public, the way mine are, so no one but me will find out how kissable they are! And anyhow, it's a dorm regulation." She pretended she was reading from a page printed on the inside of her head. 'Students will be appropriately attired when they appear in any of the dormitory's public areas.' 'Appropriate' means no risk of naked boobs." She nodded. I nodded. There was no risk of naked boobs in Don's case even if his chest were naked, not yet anyhow, but he bought the argument. His head sank again.
Sally disappeared into her room and returned immediately with a large red lace bra dangling from her hand, produced as if out of thin air. Nothing subtle about it -- it was identifiable as what it was even if glimpsed a mile away! Not one of hers. She'd managed to measure his chest somehow during the night, and then had borrowed from somewhere the most feminine and ostentatious brassiere she could find. Off came Don's fluffy robe. He stood there in Sally's panties while Sally clipped his new bra around his chest.
"There," she said. "Now you're decent! Now these." God, she'd also borrowed real silicone breast forms from someone! Whose boobs in this dorm weren't real? I had no idea! She tucked them into the cherry red lace bra, then handed him his fluffy robe again. With his crimped blonde hair and his groin covered Don now actually did look like a girl. Unmistakably. He held the robe closed with both hands, but despite the tie belt, his protruding breasts kept opening it and revealing his bra. His breasts in their red brassiere were now part of his chest decor.
"Just great!" Maureen said over her shoulder as she disappeared into her room to grab a book to take down with her. "You're gorgeous, Dawn! The boys will eat you alive! Or you'll eat them!"
"What does that mean," he asked me fearfully. "I don't want them to beat me up when they see me this way!" He clutched his robe tight closed, and almost managed to hide his new bra. A lot of it, anyhow.
"Not a chance," I said. Let's go!"
Breakfast wasn't so bad at all. Maureen was preoccupied, and Beth and Elvira drifted off elsewhere with their carbs and coffee, and a few of our girlfriends gathered round to share the fun. It was obvious enough to them what we were doing with this guy, and they all wanted to help. Don couldn't eat and hold his fluffy robe closed at the same time, so his new breasts in their red bra hung out openly over the table despite everything. Sally sat silent alongside him and watched, amused. Somehow all the talk at our table became all girl talk, about make-up, and clothes acquired for the new semester, and hair styles, and the new birth control patches the college had begun distributing, and gorgeous rock stars, and chick flicks, and guys of course. Now and then courses and professors, but only if the professor was "cute.".
In the middle of all this Don realized that though he was only an honorary girl he had better seem to be the real thing to maintain his protective coloring. He made nondescript squeals when he was asked if his periods were cramp-free, or whether he meant to leave his hair loose like that, and was that its natural shade, he was so lucky, and did he use a curling iron or was that a perm? He agreed with a nod that it would be nicer to be fucked by Toby McGuire than Vin Diesel, but Toby was too nice to ramrod you while Vinnie was probably just the right guy for a hard fuck. He also agreed that Brad Pitt's cock would be more pleasing to suck on than Arnold Schwartzenegger's, that Arnie's was probably old and wrinkled.
The only time he raised his eyes even to look around was when a girl asked him a direct question, maybe to tease him but maybe also because she assumed he was gay, so he'd know the answer. We were talking about swallowing cum or spitting it out or maybe returning it to the boy with his next kiss as a snowball. Or maybe never letting the guy cum at all, making him save it for later so he'll be harder and can pleasure you longer and more often in your other places. Both other places. All three. You know how girls talk over coffee some mornings.
"How 'bout you, Dawn?" one girl asked him when he'd been silent for too long. "No fibbing now, look me in the eyes so I can tell you're telling the truth. No evasions, no giggling apologies now. The truth! What do you do when a guy has just cum in your mouth? Do you swallow it?" And the whole group grew silent, waiting to see what Don would say. Would he confess that his mouth was virginal? That he'd never ever sucked even a single cock?
He finally managed to look her in the eyes, and I noticed for the first time that he had long, dark lashes himself. Beautiful eyes, and a huge cock too, I was thinking! For sure I'll never again let him leave the suite without at least mascara and eye liner, I was thinking. He needs to show those eyes off! They're gorgeous!
"I swallow it," he said, in a new, flute-like tone I'd not heard before. Sweet and shy and very girlish, very vulnerable -- he was trying to hide behind his voice! A new Dawn was dawning! We were all persuaded that he was speaking the truth. Because it was true, as far as it went. He took a swig of coffee to prove it. "I suck it out and swallow it with all the other juices."
"You don't mind the flavor then?" I asked him. I wanted to hear more of that voice again, to be sure it wasn't an accident. I knew that after spending last night swabbing out Sally's pussy with his tongue he'd have an answer of sorts, so I figured probably he wouldn't get flustered and choke.
"It isn't bad," he replied. "Sorta sweet, in a way. You get used to it. I like it, now."
Everyone listened fascinated. They'd already picked up on the fact that he was my boy cousin, somehow removed, and that twenty-four hours earlier he'd been inexperienced and clueless, straight. Now it seemed that in only one night the girls of our suite had turned him into an effeminate cock sucker. The silence grew respectful. Of us, of the Quintette.
Don thought the respect was for him, so he added, emboldened, "It's a little salty too. But mainly its how it feels in your mouth." He glanced at me, embarrassed to be the center of attention. But he didn't get tongue-tied or stutter once. He was now being someone else, a girl, not himself, and that made all the difference! Had we cured his shyness just by changing his gender?
He looked at me more modestly than shyly, then added in that same mellifluous voice, "It sort of melts in your mouth, but it clings too, it coats your tongue for a while. At first it's sticky, like honey, but not as sweet of course. And it mixes with your own saliva. I don't know. It's a little personal."
There was a silence. "Wow!" one of the girls finally said, impressed. "It stays on your tongue? You know, I never noticed. With me, it sticks in my throat. Hey! You mean if I'm in an all-out orgy and a guy who's just sucked off another guy wants to tonguefuck me, he could make me pregnant? I never thought of that!" She seemed a little startled to realize it. Here was another candidate for the new birth control patches.
I decided to change the subject before Don revealed that he was only talking about the taste and feel of Sally's pussy juices, or maybe of his own cum mixed in with Sally's. That was no big deal -- lots of girls test their boyfriends' devotion by asking them to lick cum out of their cunts. I always do, all my studs do it so afterward if I want to call them douche bags they can't complain. Elvira's studs clean off each others' cocks with their tongues, three or more at a time, I've seen it. But it takes even Elvira a few days to get new guys willing to do other guys. Someone might realize that our Dawn was too good to be true.
"Dawn's going to major in engineering," I volunteered for him. That's what I'd overheard him tell Sally. He didn't contradict me.
"Ooooh, all those boys, and not many girls!" said another of the girls. "Imagine how you'll feel, all those swinging dicks surrounding you all the time. I envy you!"
Don looked at her mournfully. Did he hear the mockery somewhere in her comment? Did he think it was envy? He seemed about to tie himself into an embarrassed knots and deny that he'd ever sucked a cock. Maybe even start to cry. I was bracing myself to stand and end the session when behind me I heard Gail's voice suddenly speak up. Gail is my best friend at Webster.
"Are you free a week from Saturday, Dawn?" she asked.
I turned to look at her. Well-groomed as always, clear-eyed, clear-skinned, her blonde hair pulled back flawlessly and held with a scrunchy, and though it was only breakfast time as always wearing light make-up. Looking directly at Dawn. I cocked an eyebrow at her, and as usual she saw my query without seeming to. 'Don't worry' came at me from her slight change of expression, maybe of her posture, while her mouth never moved. I don't know, that was how we always communicated. So I sat silent.
Don just looked at this new face, so guileless and capable. "Free next Saturday?" he asked. She seemed to be asking him for a date. He was flustered. He glanced at me, and I tried to look reassuring. Gail always knew what she was doing. He nodded.
"Wonderful! There's this person my boyfriend knows, part of his old high school gang, coming to visit us here that weekend. I'm trying to fix up a foursome for the Grunge Dawg concert and maybe some pub crawling afterward, but everyone I know is already booked. I know it's not much notice, but maybe you can join us?"
He looked at me again, baffled this time, his eyes desperate to find a way out that wouldn't blow his cover. This girl was asking him to double date. With a guy? But maybe she meant a girl? Was he trapped?
I realized what Gail was doing. Helping. I felt grateful. But also envious -- all the Grunge Dawg tickets had sold out in about an hour while I happened to be in class. Wasting my time in class when something important like that was happening! Still, Gail was being a friend. I nodded reassurance at Don.
"OK," Don said weakly.
"Marvelous," Gail said. "I'll let you know the when and where and all that later. You'll like him."
So the friend was a him. Don's face seemed to stiffen.
"Wear whatever you like! I'll be dressing down but real heavy on the eye make-up, so you might want to do the same. You know, nice girl down below and slut up top, that gets them. Though the other way around does it too I've noticed." She grinned at Don, then at me. "Bye now!" She headed out toward the elevators.
We all stood up. Breakfast was over.
Gail was waiting for me in the corridor as I figured, and we hung back while Sally and Don went to wait for the elevator back up to our suite.
"Gail, when your boyfriend's friend reaches into Dawn's pants he won't be happy," I said quietly. "He might want to kill the poor dear! And I'll be responsible. Whatever did you have in mind?"
She grinned. "No problem, Jen. This old high school friend is gay, and deep in the closet. Name of 'Marty.' He's at State U, captain of their football team same as my guy is here, and the girls all want him same as they all want my guy. But he's gay! He tells lots of girls that he's being true to a girl he left behind back home. And there's a closeted lesbian cheerleader he sometimes dates -- they cover for each other. But he's got to maintain appearances. Just think what the other players would do to him if they knew. Especially the players on opposing teams. I mean, you've seen how they slap each other's asses. If they knew he liked getting his ass slapped? They'd trample him into the ground, the poor faggot! So Marty doesn't have much of a sex life. The poor guy's lonely, except now and then he visits a gay bar a hundred miles away to get his rocks off."
I nodded, relieved. A little.
"That's what he was hoping for here. That his old high school buddy could fix him up during this visit. So my guy asked me to help out. It's tricky. I didn't know exactly who to set him up with. If he went to a big concert like Grunge Dawg with another queer the word would get back and he'd be outed for sure! A Big Ten football captain who's been in the national newspapers, go to a rave with a guy? The Gay and Lesbian Alliance at State would instantly claim him as one of their own, and then all the homophobes on his own team would kick his ass bloody! Yet, going to Grunge Dawg with an ordinary girl wouldn't be any fun for either of them! You know, it's Saturday night, after all! So Dawn is perfect! Marty'll love her! Dawn swallows? Already? Is that really true?"
"We'll do our best to get Dawn ready," was all I replied. "But Gail, shouldn't I be close by Dawn in case he panics? She, I mean? This will be her first date, and all."
"You? Not Sally?" Gail always knew everything!
"He thinks Sally's his fiancee," I said. "Once you sleep with a girl you're engaged to her, he thinks. So he wouldn't want her to be there the very first time he dates someone else and ends up unfaithful. Even though that someone else is a man, so it would be more like being unfaithful to Sally's dildo than to Sally. If you can get me two tickets, I'll find someone I can go with." Gail was on the concert committee, I knew that. I also knew that sold out or not, with hot tickets like those the required complimentary pair for the Dean of Students often never arrived at the Dean's office. And that the Dean never noticed because he never used them anyhow.
"That's fair," Gail agreed. "But think of it this way too. After Saturday Dawn might find she's in love. Then she'll have to break her engagement. I've seen this State U. football captain. I'd be in love with him myself if he were at all interested in my kind. He's beautiful! And I hear he's fabulously hung!"
"So is Dawn," I said. Should I begin believing in fate? Was the gay coupling of the century taking shape?
"My God!" was all Gail replied, as the same thought struck her too. Maybe we're both the instruments of some Divine Master Plan to help well-hung queers find each other and live happily ever after? True, Dawn wasn't yet queer. He liked girls, Sally anyhow. But we were well on the way to fixing that. "Well, let me know if there's anything else I can do," Gail said, and she scurried off.
I quickly told Sally what I'd just learned. Then as the elevator rose toward our suite, I looked at her inquiringly. She was thinking this new development through too. 'No problem' she finally looked back at me. She seemed in fact elated by the challenge of readying Dawn for a heavy date with a man, dressed down but with heavy slut make-up, getting him ready and willing to suck and fuck a huge cock and have the favor returned. And all in only a little more than a week!
Don just stood there next to her, our innocent, still holding his robe together, his boobs in their red brassiere still thrust way out and visible. He was obviously worried about this impending Saturday date as a supposed girl. Or maybe the implications hadn't sunk in yet? Yet he was also feeling exhilarated. He'd survived his first outing as an honorary girl. His disguise had worked, everyone thought he was the real thing, he thought. He'd talked to more girls in the past hour than in his whole lifetime previously, and he'd forgotten to stutter! So now he could spend practically the whole semester sleeping with Sally and playing lickety split with her every night. Just for pretending to be a girl so no one would notice.
Like I said, clueless.
As soon as I was alone with Don in my room, I grabbed him by the shoulders and stared directly into his eyes. "You know you've got to be a girl full time now, right Dawn? And nothing but! Isn't that right?"
"I guess, Jen," he replied in his boy voice, a little worried. "I didn't expect anything like this. Are you sure there isn't some other way?"
"No other way, sweetie. So put on that other voice of yours and use it from now on. You're a girl. Enjoy it. You've got a lot to learn by a week from Saturday, and you did agree to it, all of it, didn't you?"
I waited. He couldn't quite recall when he'd agreed to be a girl going on a date with a guy, it'd been cumulative. But he'd gone along with everything, so he finally answered, "Yeah, I guess so."
"You guess so?"
"I mean, yes, I agreed to do all this!"
"Yes, you did. So whatever it takes, we do it. We better get going. Just trust me."
"All right," Dawn's voice said. "Whatever you say, Jennifer. I guess that Saturday won't be so bad. It's Grunge Dawg, after all. And I mean, your friend seems nice, so maybe her friend will be too."
My friend isn't your problem, I was thinking. But now we've got to get going. The pace picks up. The sun will not set tonight on Dawn's unpierced ears. And this very afternoon we shop. But right now we go get the student ID that will make him officially a her, certify that there is no Don at Webster College, only Dawn, now and forever more. Everyone wears jeans for their photo ID, it's only a head and shoulder shot after all. But my Dawn will wear stockings and heels and a skirt -- he's got to be all girl when the Registrar's flunkies see him, no ambiguity. In fact he's got to be all girl from now on, until there's no way he can be anything else. Or want to be.
This is turning out to be so easy!
"Your hair's very pretty, curly like that. But is that how you mean to wear it?" I asked him.
"Loose?" he replied. "Like this? Yeh. I could. My step mom makes me put a rubber band on it for a ponytail, but now I'm in college I can do what I like. I like it loose. Though I didn't count on it being so curled and crimped like this."
"We can do lots of things with it now. So it'll keep its shape. Let me show you a nice style, and how to set it so it's always up out of the way when you and Sally want to play that game ... what do you call it, kissy pussy?"
"Lickety split," Don said.
"Then each morning when you take it down and brush it out, you won't ever need to tie it back. No barrettes or ribbons, though you can suit yourself on that. Just a few bobby pins."
"Bobby pins? Don't girls use those things?" Don asked, a little concerned.
"Yes, and boys who pretend to be girls use them too!" I answered sternly. "Honorary girls use them! Don't worry about it, worry about Sally's Dad! More, worry about our dorm adviser! Most of all, you better worry about this date you made for next Saturday, and get ready to do everything you committed yourself to do!" Don didn't yet know that today was the first day of the rest of his life and the last day of his life as a man, or anyhow a boy who wasn't much of a man. He still thought this was sort of temporary, an accommodation, a way to get at what girls have got, at Sally's in particular, so he was holding back. "The more girlie you are, the safer you'll be. Be glad I'm helping you!"
Lie down and spread your legs, I nearly added. Your manhood, or whatever you call whatever you've been, is about to get fucked up beyond recognition! By the end of this semester you'll be filling that bra with your own tits, and Sally's already turned your asshole into a two way street!
So we spent the next hour rolling his hair up, tight curls in front and a soft fall created with large rollers behind, and finally a swatch of hair pinned up and back over each ear with bobby pins to hold them both in place. I did it once for him, then he did it a few times for himself -- I told him that this was his life every night from now on whether he was sleeping between Sally's legs or not. The last time we put setting gel on each strand and blow-dried everything, then took it all down off the rollers and clips.
He was amazed that this time the curls in front stayed springy, and that his hair in back was once again straight, or anyhow curved, not crimped. I showed him how to comb it out, and there he was! There was Dawn, I mean! He really looked darling! Fabulous in fact! I just had to kiss him! Girl to girl, though he looked embarrassed, as if he weren't now a girl.
"Now no one will ever recognize you," I told him. "Now we'll touch up your face and we're ready, nearly." It was true. This dumb boy was pretty! He didn't really need make-up to look like a girl, though there was no way I was going to let him take his ID photo bare faced. The bright lights would wash out his features, maybe blur his new gender, and androgynous wasn't the look we wanted. We wanted "girl"!
He looked apprehensive yet again when I hauled out my make-up kit. "Dawn!" I said in a warning tone. "What do you need to look like now, to stay here with us? Until it's as natural to you as breathing, until you make yourself look like one without giving it a second thought? Because that's what you are! Mostly."
"A girl!" he said uneasily. "I know what you mean. But I saw downstairs, Jen. Most of the girls here don't wear make-up." Again, he was showing just enough resistance to satisfy his manhood that he was asserting himself. "Except maybe when they want to look fancy!"
"Most of the girls here are girls," I pointed out. "There's no chance they'll ever be mistaken for anything else!" There was no chance Don would be mistaken for anything else either, not with that hairdo, and he was still wearing his bulging red bra? But he didn't know that. "We have nothing to prove. But you do. You want some boy to guess you're a boy, a boy who likes to look like a girl? Suppose your ex-roommate saw you. The hulk? Suppose he called in his friends to teach you a lesson? Guys like him don't have a lot of respect for sissy faggots. Do you want that? Are you a sissy faggot?"
"No," he said solemnly.
Not yet, but don't worry, I was thinking. The Grunge Dawg concert will fix that. "You're going to get your picture taken this morning, so you need a little make-up," I said firmly. Then reassuringly, "Hardly enough to notice. Just so you'll look unmistakably feminine. Skin, eyes, mouth, that's all. I'll show you. It'll get to be a routine, the whole thing shouldn't take you more than twenty minutes each morning when you've got it down, and then you'll be set for the day. With touch-ups of course. Days you spend in class you can get away with just eye liner and mascara, and a little lipstick maybe. But for Grunge Dawg we go all out, and that'll take way more time than you think. Sit!"
He did. Without waiting for an answer I started spreading one of Maureen's peach-colored foundations over his entire face, talking the whole time. "This covers blemishes, so your complexion will look perfect, the way a girl's should. Then dust a little powder on it to set it. See? Now we need to brush a little blush on too, to pink it like real skin, and maybe a little extra on your cheeks to give you a kind of embarrassed flush, that's very appealing, guys think they're giving us naughty thoughts when we seem to be blushing, so they get hopeful. With blusher you always look hot." As I said it, I did it. "This much you'll usually do while your hair is still rolled up," I added. "So your face is clear of hair -- a perfect painter's palette."
I've got to say, as I blended his eye liner and two shades of shadow, and stroked on his mascara and lip color, I had to admit it, when I was done Don did look hot. I was creating a monster! I loved it! So much so that when I was done and he looked perfect, I surprised myself! It was just like when I was a little girl playing with my Barbies. I couldn't resist! I bent over and kissed him again, careful not to smudge of course.
"Perfect!" I repeated. What was wrong with me? He looked appreciatively back, having taken it as a sisterly kiss. "Here," I said a little more roughly than usual, handing him two more morning birth control pills. "We all take these. Every day. They'll help you fit in better." Into bras, not pussies, I said to myself. "If you want to live here with us, you have to fit in."
He didn't ask what they were. He just took them with a swallow of the water I'd left on my night stand, and then daintily blotted his lips in order not to smear his lipstick. He was catching on. "Don't you want to know what they're for?" I asked him.
"Sally already told me. When I took the two she gave me before breakfast, when we first woke up. They're for pregnancy. So I won't make her pregnant, I guess. Also for smoother skin. Girls like smooth skin."
True enough, I thought. But let's see, that's about a week's worth of heavy-duty hormones Dawn's swallowed since last night. That's quite a kick start! She has more girl in her veins right now than I do! "If you start feeling queasy, let me know," I said. "These things hit different people different ways."
Dawn nodded silently. His eyes did begin to look a little glazed over. Maybe he was already feeling zonked by his new body chemistry? No matter, it made things easier. I showed him how we roll up pantyhose and then unroll them on our legs, and when he'd done it successfully I handed him a bright red blouse with a deep vee neckline, just deep enough to expose the lacy top of his red bra when he leaned forward. And a long black skirt -- time enough later for a mini, when I'd taught him how girls need to move their rears when they're wearing minis, either prim or swish, hide your cheeks or expose everything, but nothing in between. When I realized that none of us had heels that fit him, I hauled out a pair of backless black strappy sandals. My favorites. I knew he'd stretch and ruin them, but Mom did tell me I'd need to make small sacrifices, so what could I do? "These are yours now," I told him. He studied them solemnly and then buckled them on. And still zonked, he hobbled out of our suite into the elevator. A few girls passing by looked admiringly at him and then at me, and grinned. I smiled back. Not too bad, if I did say so myself!
When we got to the gym I suggested that he make his pose livelier by standing sideways and looking at the camera over his shoulder. He didn't know that pose would give him a feminine "come hither" look for all college ID purposes, and at the same time expose his breasts in maximum come-hither silhouette. The girl at the desk glanced up at him, and I realized she'd been one of those who'd just seen him at breakfast. She looked him over with admiration and disbelief, and then at me with a gleam of curiosity and amusement. Would she make a problem out of it? She asked for his last name, and then she brought his page up on the computer.
"Dawn?" she queried, looking up at him.
"Don," he replied.
"That's what it says here too," she declared. "'Dawn'! OK, Whatever. Who am I to question the school's records?" With a quick look at me she handed him a printout ID card to give to the photographer, so his photo could be laminated on it. I glanced at it. Sure enough, the "F" was checked off, not the "M". Elvira had already gotten into the college mainframe and changed Dawn's name. And that handled the problem of his College records!
He'd was a girl now. In all of his classes, that's what the professors would see on their records no matter what he looked like. That's how the Freshman Handbook would show him. He'd get all the junk mail girl solicitations for teams and sororities and sanitary napkins and cosmetics and so on from now on, not the boy solicitations for razor blades and beer blasts. Now the whole world would conspire to keep him a girl!
When the photographer called out "Smile, Dawn!" I saw that as I'd instructed him, he was peering fetchingly over his own shoulder at the camera, his dark-outlined eyes wide and innocent, his hair curling over his brow and falling fetchingly behind him, his parted lips as red as his blouse, and a curved glimpse of bra visible beneath. He'd never escape now! His own naivete was in on the conspiracy!
I delivered him back to the dorm into Sally's arms. She'd agreed to take him shopping for his own clothes that very day, and get his ears pierced and his nails done properly, and to teach him a few essential girly moves, stuff like that. Even to sit with him through his first lectures, and introduce him around as 'Dawn' so no one would dream he wasn't, and get him used to the way people treat girls. She'd tend to stuff like that while I got back to living my life.
She did it all, too. He came back late afternoon still with a dazed look on his face and packages filling his arms, lingerie and skirts and blouses, and special hip-hugger jeans and a spandex glitter cut-off T-shirt earmarked for his big Saturday night with Marty. Each of his ear lobes gleamed gold. If he had any doubts about what was happening to him, he lost them that night, another blissful night spent sprawled inside Sally's room and bed and crotch.
The next morning when Dawn showed up in the lounge for coffee and to kiss our cunts good morning he was wearing a fetching peignoir and just the right amount of eye and lip color, and his hairdo was already brushed out. He was lovely. More to the point, he was no longer awkward with us, rather, he was relaxed and comfortable, charmingly modest but not at all shy, even while chatting with two girls who dropped in on us from a neighboring suite, who'd heard what we were doing and didn't believe it. He was feeling accepted, I guess. And that was all he'd ever needed, I realized! Too bad no one had ever accepted him as a boy before his mother and my mother gave him to me to fix for good. He might have made a halfway decent boy I suppose, once. But now?
I did notice he was walking a bit stiffly, and I guessed -- correctly, it turned out -- that this second night Sally had graduated him to Elvira's monster dildo. "First he sucked all the cum-flavored Gatorade out of its balls -- it was gone well before midnight," she told me, a little amazed. "What a mouth! Tonight I'll collect some real semen from our stud stable to use for refills -- I'll use our race-horse scenario, the first guy to fill three condoms gets to do the last guy to fill three if he can still get stiff enough. But I didn't have any semen, so I had to make do. What I did, I filled the thing with heated hair conditioner -- it looks and feels about the same, slick and cloudy -- and then I fucked his ass with it three times. Whenever I climaxed I squirted heated creamy conditioner into him, and each time he climaxed! Each time! He felt those hot spurts and he climaxed! Can you imagine? Amazing! He was born to be fucked!"
"Doggy style or facing you?" I asked, wondering if her perfumed hair hanging over his face had something to do with it. Was Dawn a natural-born poet?
"Both," she replied. "And I'm letting him do me too with that great prick of his, only up the ass of course, just in case his partner likes getting fucked too. We're on a tight deadline after all -- I mean, he's got only a week to get ready for that Grunge Dawg date with that football team guy Gail lined up, that Marty somebody. And we don't know if Marty likes his guys facing him or on their knees when he fucks them. Or if Marty would rather be the one on his back or his knees. Any which way we need to get Dawn completely cock-broken fast."
"I know," I said. "I hope my mother and my aunt will appreciate what we're doing. What we're going through."
"They'll never guess how much sacrifice is involved," Sally added. "That cock of Dawn's is a monster! A tree trunk when it's filled and rigid! It stretches standard-size condoms almost to bursting. It stretches even me! And the amount of semen he squirts when he comes? Oceans! Cleaning me out and then dribbling it all back into him takes forever! I know I should deny myself that prick for the next week so I can concentrate on the job ahead, turn Dawn around so her own asshole becomes her main attraction. But what can I do? That Marty is in for a real treat if he asks Dawn to give as good as he gets!"
"It's a real shame his cock may not be functioning at all in another few months," I replied. "But the first thing a girl needs is breasts, and only afterward does she look around for cock. You know though, it's great how our plan is working. He's not the least bit shy with us any more. He's like a different person."
"He is a different person," Sally said, grinning. "He's now a girl on the pill and on birth control patches too -- the Health Service gave them to him with no questioned asked after he flashed his ID at them. So he's on both. Did you know he woke up feeling nauseous this morning? He's already getting morning sickness. I explained he'll get over it in a few days. Also his nipples are already getting tender and there are lumps behind them. I explained that he won't be getting over that in a hurry, but it was a good thing, they'd give him a lot of pleasure when they got the way they should be, pendulous. He liked that idea, and he asked me what "pendulous" means. I told him 'well-hung' and he was satisfied."
Well, that is what the word means!
Dawn made great progress over the next few days. We called on one of our brains, a guy named Darryl who'd was doing a Master's in psych, and Darryl gave him an all-day hypno-therapy session, auto-suggestion treatments aimed at enhancing whatever he imagined girls feel when they're excited by being with guys. We had to break down any irrelevant aversion he might have to getting groped by a guy. And it worked better than anyone dreamed! His mind became putty! Once he got into this trance he flounced in and out of whatever room he was in whenever one of us called him, each time moving as graciously as a princess.
So we went further. Darryl told him he really was a girl, and we set him up that night with two guys. One of them was Gary, Kevin's bisexual partner, the one with the impressive prick. Gary told us afterward that Sally was doing incredible dildo work with him, that he'd never been inside such a distended asshole. Then we sent him down the hall to visit with a musician who played an acoustic guitar and wrote folk songs, a guy so far out of it he thought Dawn really was a girl. He wrote a song about it, something about how sweet her hair and head looked, bobbing beneath his belly. That's the only line I remember.
Now Dawn had done it all and didn't even know it.
So back to Darryl for debriefing and gradual awakening, and further hypnotic conditioning. It had been a risk, but it worked. Easier than expected. Darryl figured Dawn was probably bisexual down under, like lots more guys than you'd think. Maybe even latent gay -- after all, except for his sessions with Sally he'd never confirmed his heterosexuality, and what he did with Sally was more often gay than straight. And after all, he'd agreed to pretend to be a girl. So it wasn't too difficult to persuade him that getting fucked and giving blow jobs to guys was normal behavior. Dawn didn't remember sucking or getting fucked by either guy the next morning, not any of it. But his subconscious knew what he'd done, Darryl assured us. When Marty made his moves on him, it would all seem vaguely familiar and pleasurable.
So each night for the next week Sally fucked him senseless with her dildo. And each morning he threw up from his pills and patches. But what could we do about that? His figure wouldn't be ready for Marty before the Grunge Dawg concert, but Marty wouldn't mind, and afterward he'd still need to look like a girl, wouldn't he? The more he looked like a girl, the less self-conscious he'd be when he was with other girls, wasn't that so? And wasn't that what our mothers wanted for him?
He sometimes lapsed and acted not like a girl but an effeminate man, so we tried to teach him to act like a whore with attitude. We taught him to move in a more limber, fluid way, to toss his wrists and his head whenever he spoke, and to keep his legs together and shoot one hip way out whenever he stood still. We contributed odds and ends of clothes to his wardrobe and then sent him out shopping for more. Also for jewelry. He nodded solemnly each time we sent him out to destroy more of his own manhood, and once he came back proudly prancing in a pair of high-heeled fuck-me pumps. Another time he came back with his hair done professionally, more or less the same style I'd chosen for him, but trimmed neater, clinging closer to his neck and easier to pin up for a more formal look. He was a knockout. And he took real pleasure in that fact. His eyes sparkled when we admired each new item he acquired to enhance his new life.
He started talking to us and our friends, even to our guys, with no self-consciousness at all. Easy and gracious. I had to think about that for a while, and I finally decided it was because he wasn't being himself. And that, I realized, had been his problem. Being himself. He'd been a dork. I'd never liked him, no one had ever liked him, and he'd agreed with us, he didn't like himself either. He'd try to put himself forward and make friends, but with no self-confidence he'd withhold himself too, so he'd end up paralyzed and tongue-tied.
Beth talked with him some, and then explained it all to the rest of us. His Dad had been his only parent for some years, and his Dad was a tough man who'd made all sorts of demands on him no small kid could possibly handle. So his Dad was always disappointed, and his little son knew it. He grew up with no self-esteem, is the way Beth put it. When my Aunt Tracy married his father she managed to take the pressure off him, but it was too late. When he got into his teens he couldn't handle being a guy, being feisty, competing with other guys, taking all the initiatives guys have to take and assuming all the responsibilities. Or thinking he had to be and do all those things, you know guys. He'd never even once called a girl for a date -- he just couldn't. And he was such a dweeb no girl had ever schemed to get him to call her the way girls do, and of course no girl had called him directly. So he'd never gone out with a girl. Not once. How sad can it get?
But now with our help he had lots of girlfriends. It was easy for him to be sociable, witty, delightful, once he felt himself accepted by other girls as a girl. Especially as our girl, clever and loved and appreciated. Guys started to stop by to chat with him after class, and he began to enjoy it. Sally told me that he'd begun to raise his hand in class and ask or answer questions easily, and that once he'd even gotten up the nerve to disagree with a Professor. He did it sweetly, in that flute-like voice he'd cultivated, and he was wrong as the professor explained to him gently, but he was nevertheless proud afterward that he'd spoken up. So as far as I was concerned, he was cured. I'd done my thing as asked, and my mother and my aunt ought to be altogether satisfied when they found out. My mother had made it plain that she didn't want to know how I did it, and she'd put no restrictions on how I did it. "Just do it!" -- those were her words.
And as a bonus I now had these Grunge Dawg tickets. I invited a stud Elvira had broken in beautifully, a tireless hulk who loved good music and knew how to service a girl's body all night, who really got off on both! And me and my guy and Gail and her guy and Dawn and Marty smoked a little pot and then went to the concert. It was terrific! We all had a ball! Later on too! All of us!
Marty it turned out was one incredible person, a large, handsome Ken doll, muscular, tender, real buff. And a beautiful person too, polite and witty, everything any girl dreams about, except for this one thing about him, that he liked girls only as friends, and that he liked only guys as sex partners.
He and Dawn hit it off immediately! Dawn may have been a stuttering creep as a guy, but he was a fabulous girl conversationally, comfortable in any role that was not him. And comfortable to be a girl in other ways too, even though his hormones hadn't yet had time to do more than smooth out a few rough places in his skin. They teased each other a little, and then for Marty it got serious almost immediately! He'd never met a guy like Dawn before, and he was absolutely smitten! He wrapped both his arms around him during some of the slow numbers, and while they listened they swayed back and forth together dreamy, as if they were one body.
Which they later became. We went to a disco bar afterward and smoked a little more, and then we split off. My date was fabulous -- I made a note to myself to run anyone I ever sleep with again through Elvira's School for Stud Muffins first. Gail was already engaged to her guy, our Webster College team captain, so there was nothing special at all about the way they spent the time smooching, then disappeared together. But I was still a little surprised when Dawn went off with Marty and then never came home that night at all. Not even the following morning, when my guy finally left my room, leaving me absolutely exhausted from all the orgasms he'd given me, amazed that I'd survived the really towering ones. I finally got a few hours sleep.
I opened my eyes some time that afternoon, I could tell by the sun's shadows on the wall. It was like awakening a couple of weeks ago, all over again, nearly. Because there at the foot of my bed was Don, Dawn I mean this time, this lovely girl with sparkling eyes and a secret smile on her face, beaming down at me. Her hair was a little disheveled and her make-up was almost gone, but she still had mysterious shadows slathered around her eyes. She was still wearing the tight girls' stretch jeans she'd bought for her big date, the kind that snug into your crack and leave no doubt there's a twat underneath -- we'd had to haul Dawn's cock and balls way back between his legs and hold them there with duct tape to give him the kind of crotch he needed to fit them. But right off I saw that this girl's package was bulging there despite the elastic in the jeans. Only then did I realize she wasn't a girl at all, she was still Dawn, and that some time during the night the duct tape had been decreed unnecessary. She was glowing! Dawn, I had to remind myself as I stared at his crotch, is a boy. She's a boy we made into a girl. And that's what he is now. Isn't he?
I no longer knew what he was. I'm not sure he did either.
When he saw I was at last awake he smiled. "No, I'm not in trouble this time," he said, anticipating my first question.
"No?" I asked. "You're not engaged? Like with Sally?"
"Oh yes!" he replied. "Oh yes! I am! He's wonderful. I wanted you to be the first to know. And to thank you for everything you've done for me!"
I came fully awake. "Dawn," I said. "Look here. You've slept with him. With Marty. Well, good! It's no surprise, I think you know that by now. I've heard he's really terrific in bed if you're a guy and not a girl. But that doesn't mean you have to marry him! If every girl married every boy she ever slept with, she'd have to hire a hotel to live in with them all! Lots of girls would, anyhow. I would!"
"No, Jennifer. You don't understand. I mean we're engaged, really engaged! Sure I slept with him, but Sally's been explaining to me for days now, fucking is just something people do to enjoy themselves together. It isn't like living your life together. But with Marty it's different. It feels so much different! This morning he proposed and I accepted. He's wonderful! I'm so happy!"
"Dawn, Marty's a nice guy and all, but you hardly know him!" My God listen to me! Every daughter really does end up sounding like her mother! I should shoot myself before it gets any worse!
"I know one thing, Jen," Dawn replied with an almost religious solemnity. "We're two of a kind. Yes, we love each other, but it seems too that we were made for each other. Body and soul, we're a perfect fit, Marty and me. We discovered that last night."
I knew exactly what he meant, and just lay there silent. What could anyone say to that? Then "Does Sally know yet?"
"No. But she's been telling me for days now that once I know I'm a girl we can't be lovers any more. Because she isn't a lesbian. And girls should have boys as lovers. That's why she was using those dildoes on me. To help me decide."
"And you've now decided. You're a girl." "Yes. I've suspected it ever since you introduced me to Darryl and he gave me those relaxing exercises. I don't know, but after those sessions I began to get such delicious feelings about boys. Funny feelings, funny imaginations, as if I'd already ...."
"Yes, I know how it is," I said. "I'm a girl too, remember?" I decided I'd better change the subject before Daryll's methods rose up out of Dawn's subconscious and explained to his conscious memory that even before Marty he'd already been fucked by a real guy, and already sucked off a real cock. "When will you tell your folks?"
Should I tell my mother first, I was wondering, before he tells his? Ask her to ease the shock? No, this was her doing too, in a way. Better to let Dawn handle it her way. Don, I mean. His way. Whatever.
"About the engagement? Soon, I guess. But maybe not till next summer. I'll transfer to State and be Marty's steady girl there, and we'll announce our engagement to the world when he graduates, and then I'll finish my degree wherever he finds a job, and then we'll get married. All very proper and sensible. But I mean, first things first. Remember, my mother doesn't know yet how College life has changed me. My folks still think I'm a shy boy, afraid ever to say or do anything. Because that's what I was. And now, thanks to you, look at me."
"That's what I'm doing," was all I could say,
"I mean, now I love who I am! I'm not afraid of anything! Especially now. And I owe it all to you!"
Jesus! After his mother burns up the wires to my mother, I was thinking, I'll be grounded for life! Called home from College and tossed into a dungeon and left to rot! Even though I never asked for this assignment, and I only did the best I could when my mother forced it on me. This is so unfair! But it had been fun!
"I think you should take full credit for your own happiness, Dawn," I said soberly and slowly. "This is all your choice and your achievement. I don't think you should mention me at all when you talk to your folks. Especially when you talk to your mother or my mother!"
Dawn was reluctant, but he finally nodded. "If you say so, Jennifer. Whatever you say! But I know how much I owe you! I'll never forget! Oh Jen, he's so wonderful!"
"I'm so happy for you," was all I could say. "But I could do with some more sleep." I turned over and closed my eyes, again muttering 'Jesus!' to myself. Dawn went off to break the news to Sally, hoping she wouldn't be heartbroken when she heard. She bore up somehow.
In fact there was no problem at all with our families. When Don came home for Thanksgiving, Dawn I mean, his mother saw immediately what had happened to him. Of course, and she instantly surmised how it had happened. My Aunt Tracy is a lot like me -- she figures things fast. So for her son's sake she acted as if nothing whatever had changed, as if she'd always had a daughter, and she sat on Don's father so hard that he uttered not a peep the whole time Dawn was home. The very morning he arrived she swallowed hard, then suggested ways for him to use his makeup more subtly, and she praised the little gray cardigan he was wearing over his silk blouse. At that point they both broke down and cried, and then had a real mother-daughter heart-to-heart. Before he returned to Webster to finish the semester she'd introduced him to her gynecologist, who put him on milder hormones so he could preserve erectile functioning for Marty's sake, even while still growing breasts genuine enough to take suspicion away from Marty forever. And she introduced him to her hairdresser, who gave him a cute, trouble-free layered shag better fitted to his face than the hairdo I'd devised. Mine had done its work. And Marty liked short hair on her.
My mother said nothing at all to me all through that whole Thanksgiving, just looked at me oddly now and then. But finally, after coming back from a visit to her sister, she sat me down and then spoke carefully to me. "I just saw Don. He seems happy enough. He gets on well with all sorts of girls, I hear. And he says he's grateful to you and your roommates for taking him in. You did take him in, didn't you?"
I replied equally carefully, "Dawn, you mean. Yes, we did. And yes, she's very happy now, I think. And yes, she does get on well with girls. Guys too."
My mother considered the matter further. Then she said suddenly, "Jen, do you think, if I tell you that I've set aside money enough for you to buy a small car you can take back to college, do you think you can manage to buy a small car and not an elephant or a bus or a whole railroad train?"
Oh my God! "I'm sure of it, Mom," I said. "Oh, Mom!"
And then we had a mother-daughter hugging session of our own, crying with joy and appreciation and love the whole time. And we never again said another word to each other about what I'd done to Dawn.
Everything else went as expected. Dawn remained in our suite the whole rest of that year, a full-fledged member of our Sextette, and we watched his body flower into a lovely young womanhood. All of it except for that massive weight of meat he kept discreetly hidden under full skirts. As a Sextette we borrowed each other's nail polish and other stuff freely, the way we always did, and Dawn sent Brian on errands for her the way we all did. She even advised Brian on the kinds of make-up to wear when he was servicing Elvira -- I'd given Brian to Elvira to thank her for her contributions to our Dawn project, and Elvira had indeed feminized him as she'd promised. But Dawn wasn't interested in our stables, any of them, not even for idle amusement. She was a proper girl, absolutely faithful to her Marty! Even Elvira forgave her the need to kiss her pussy or her ass each morning -- making a boy do subservient, humiliating things like that was just great, but it was no fun making a girl do them. What was the point?
Eventually I wrote this story up for Gender Studies credit, but I only got a B minus, and I had to argue the grade up from a C, because the professor thought I'd made the whole thing up. Then when I turned the same paper in again for Creative Writing credit I got an even lower grade because the professor didn't think I'd made "the fantasy" seem plausible. Talk about unfair? I couldn't wait for Elvira to hack into Academic Records and give me the grades I really deserved.
Dawn transferred to State at the end of the year as planned, and she and Marty announced their engagement the year he graduated, as planned, and Dawn's still proud that that was the year she was elected Homecoming Queen.
They married as planned too. Beth's father performed the ceremony and Dawn's Mom gave her away, her father didn't want any part of it. The whole original Quintette attended of course, proudly, as Maids of Honor. Dawn was demure yet sexy in figure-hugging white satin, figure-hugging because her breasts and bum had come in gloriously and Marty was proud to show them off, and white because she still thought she'd been a virgin until Grunge Dawg night, so she still assumed she was marrying her first and only boy friend. Though we all knew that if she'd in fact been a virgin that night, she might still be one. I wore shocking pink of course. Elvira wore a black leather mini and thigh-high boots, and after the reception dinner she departed with two male guests in tow, one of them another dreary cousin of mine she thought she could put to good use. Maybe she'll straighten him out, I was thinking as they left. Maureen brought her brother, who turned out to be a living doll! In a way, I was thinking, he's more responsible for all this than any of us -- he was our original inspiration. But who can tell?
Dawn loves her life now, and I'm proud to say I helped her find it. Without me he'd still be Don, probably one more shy, stuttering, underpaid accountant, married to some mousy reject of a woman who never combs her hair, watches soap operas all day, and nags him all night. But after we separated her from her former self Dawn was able to develop marvelous social skills, and she soon moved up in the world. Trading on his football fame, Marty became a luxury car salesman, and he now owns three dealerships. He knows what I did for Dawn, and he's told me repeatedly that I'll never have to pay for a car as long as I live. Though to tell the truth, I still prefer the little Honda my mother bought me -- it slips easily between and around all sorts of obstacles to get where it's going, and I like that. As Marty's wife, Dawn is now hostess to some of the state's most powerful people, and she leads a fashionable and glamorous life. She's even getting into politics, elected to the local city council and so on, that kind of thing. She may some day end up governor!
At least that's what Sally tells me, and Sally's a frequent guest in their home, so she should know. Marty also appreciates everything Sally did for his wife during that first crucial couple of weeks, and he wants her to share in their happiness, especially when he's away on business and Dawn gets lonely. So Sally still visits them whenever she wishes. She still sometimes uses Dawn's cock as a living dildo, pushing it up into herself as deep as she can and marveling how right Marty is, that it feels marvelous when it's inside you. She no longer thrusts her own dildo up Dawn's ass -- that's Marty's area exclusively, and she respects the sanctity of marriage. But Dawn still loves to play lickety split with Sally's pussy all night, and she gets lots of opportunities.
At least that's what Sally tells me. So that's what I'm telling you. You can believe me or not. Believe all of it or none of it for that matter, not just the part about how happy things turned out for Dawn. But if like my professors you think none of this ever really happened, you really need to ask yourself, could I possibly have made all this up?
(c) 2003, by Vickie Tern. May be copied to free archives freely.
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