Sugar Bobby

Brian's secret obsession had him pulling on his "regular clothes" over hidden panties, stockings, and smooth hairless skin during the day.
But even as he started worrying which were truly the "dress up" clothes... an Internet admirer made his obsession even harder to resist.

Sugar Bobby

by StacyInLove

Copyright © 04/22/2007 by StacyInLove
All Rights Reserved.

Author's Note: This story describes concepts like "docking" that are purely fictional. They do not describe actual procedures (medical or otherwise) or actual results. DO NOT TRY THEM. This is fiction and intended to be read as such... for entertainment only. ~Stacy
I often looked in the mirror with a blend of wonder and disgust. There wasn't a reason for my hated compulsion. I couldn't even tell MYSELF why I did it. But I couldn't seem to help myself either.

I didn't want to become a woman... not for real. I just liked to look like one every now and then. Only my compulsion seemed to drive me to increasingly extreme heights. Panties and bras from my mother's hamper progressed in stages to secretly putting on full outfits from my sister's closet and drawers. Makeup and nail polish soon followed. As a boy named Brian, I cultivated a kind of starving-artist look... complete with pierced ears, an ever-lengthening ponytail; and a near- anorexic weight... all really for my secret "Stacy-time".

My home life was hell and I left home (and school) at sixteen. Being able to shave my legs for the first time... even if I still hid them under my normal Brian-clothes... was a slice of heaven I never imagined. If no one would ever see my smooth legs... who would see if I was wearing stockings... or panties? Who would know if my toes were perfectly manicured with a pretty polish?

It didn't seem to matter that panties quickly became "just underwear" to me... and that keeping my legs, crotch, and pits smooth had simply become part of my normal routine. It only made my nightly dressing as "Stacy" that much easier.

But it did matter. In spite of what I was doing, I never considered myself gay or trans-anything. I definitely had my dress-up fantasies about guys... but that's all they were... fantasies. Those fantasies would vanish the moment of "release"... and seemed as harmless as any other porn. But dress-up fantasies were more frequent when I wore girl's things under my clothes during the day... and when I became Stacy each night and on weekends.

I had taken away my ability to have normal relations to offset those fantasies too. With smooth skin to go with my frail body, long hair, and pierced ears, there was no way I could let a girl see my smooth feminine body. As much as I knew I liked girls... I could never allow myself to get close to them "that way".

Even worse, my pretend time on the internet had taken the place of a real social life too. I lied about my age but not about what I was doing... because I was too proud of how good I could look as a girl NOT to post pictures of myself. There were some crazies that I did my best to avoid; but my growing network of "girls" like myself was very supportive... as were a number of friendly admirers. One of those admirers was particularly nice to me.

Bob: I liked the schoolgirl outfit on you Stacy. You looked fantastic!

StacyInLove: Thnx Bobby. U R so sweet

Bob: I saw an outfit that would look so cute on you too. I won't ask for an address, but do you have a PO Box I could send it too?

StacyInLove: No

Bob: You should get one.

The idea of an anonymous mailbox... and someone sending me an outfit... was new and hard to resist. I was still afraid that a PO Box might give away the town that I lived in, but getting one a few towns away would easily solve that problem.

I gave Bob my new PO Box information when we chatted the very next night.

Bob: That's wonderful Stacy. What dress size are you?

StacyInLove: 2

Bob: Shoes?

StacyInLove: 6

It didn't seem real... and I was getting excited even giving out my girlish sizes.

Bob: Ring?

StacyInLove: Ring?

Bob: Ring size Stacy. Do you know it?

StacyInLove: I didn't know there wur ring sizes

Bob: Do you buy orange juice in the big cartons at the store?

StacyInLove: yes... why

Bob: The tear-away plug at the spout has a ring of plastic to pull on. Do you have one?

StacyInLove: not now

Bob: Try it on as a ring sometime and let me know how it fits.

StacyInLove: K

I told him the very next night.

It was hard not to check my PO Box daily. The anticipation as I drove several towns away made me almost jittery... which made the let down even harder.

When the first package finally did arrive... there was no way I was going to make it home without looking. As I dug through it in a remote part of a large parking lot, I felt a strange blend of nervous excitement. It was all so beautiful... too beautiful. Bob had spent way too much money on me.

I stood in front of my digital still-camera wearing everything a short while later at home. The glittering red sequined cocktail dress fell only to mid-thigh and had spaghetti straps that criss-crossed over my very open back. There was no way to wear a bra with that dress, so I didn't even try, opting for a natural (if flat) look that worked with my smooth skin. The sheerest black pantyhose looked so sexy on my slender legs, which looked so much longer in that short dress and perched in the five-inch patent stilettos. The jewelry was what made me tremble though. The stones in the dangling earrings looked too brilliant to be fake... and scratched glass. The matching pendant around my neck and glittering little tennis bracelet must have cost Bob a small fortune. Though the delicate little ring wasn't a diamond... I didn't doubt that the tiny ruby matching my dress wasn't real.

I went with red polish on my nails and lips. The rest of my makeup I did a little more dramatically than usual. My hair was sprayed into a full vixen's mane that fell loosely about my shoulders and past the shoulder blades of my bare back.

Bob: You make that outfit look incredible Stacy.

StacyInLove: I don't know what to say. You shouldn't have spent that much on me Bobby.

Bob: I couldn't help it. You don't like it?

"StacyInLove: I luv it! That's not the point though.

Bob: Enjoy it Stacy. I know I do.

There were more outfits... and more photos for me to send. There were a number of sexy numbers like that first one, but there were more normal ones too. There were tons of casual clothes... and some that would have been appropriate in an office. Little by little, a women's wardrobe was taking over my closets and drawers. A little jewelry box started filling too. I liked creating the illusion of breasts when I could, but he never complained when an outfit (like that first one) forced me to be "natural" and flat.

I stopped feeling guilty about all that he bought me too. He LIKED being what he called my "Sugar Daddy".

In spite of it all the money he spent though, Bobby never talked about sex or crossed any lines of propriety, which made me like him even more for it. He had gotten me an expensive camera set for my computer and convinced me to "chat" with him live instead of by just writing. The streaming video in those chats went two ways though... and the line between my dress-up fantasies and reality was definitely starting to blur. I was always Stacy when interacting with Bobby... and those dress-up fantasies made him look almost too good to me. He looked fit, rugged. He was older, in his late thirties even, but his maturity explained his apparent success... and was sexy in its own way.

He sent a CD and booklet on "How to Speak and Sound like a Woman" shortly after our first live chat... and Bobby gave me all the opportunity to "practice" with him nightly. I couldn't believe what a difference it made and fell in love with how I could sound. It got to the point where I almost had to "find" my Brian-voice in the morning before work, which was exciting in a strange way.

It was all so wonderful... maybe too wonderful even.

I had always been torn by my dressing. As much as I loved being Stacy, the fact that I couldn't stay away from it scared and bothered me... two feelings that grew as she became more "real". I first started hating my obsession when I realized just what I was choosing between. Being able to indulge my secret little sickness had somehow become more important than real relationships. My fantasy girl... me... had somehow become more important than real girls. My relationship with Bobby had become all too real too.

But I knew deep down that I either couldn't or wouldn't completely give up being Stacy... and resigned myself to a life of celibacy. In one of my darkest moments of stupidity, I even rationalized that I didn't want a seemingly delayed boy's puberty to ruin my ability to "play". I was never going to get married. I was never going to father kids. Why did I need testicles? After all that I did to be able to be pretty, the idea of facial hair; a deepening voice; and bulking up were things I desperately wanted to avoid.

Remembering how my father had "docked" a boxer-dog's puppy tail to make it fall off... I tightly choked off my own testicles with layer after layer of tightly wound rubber bands... leaving my poor little penis alone.

I did it in the morning before "Brian" had to get ready for work. The rubber bands hadn't been on long, but I suddenly didn't have time to take them off.

It didn't hurt as much as it felt strange as I quickly pulled my day's panties in place. The blood to my poor testicles had been cut off. A feeling of "pins and needles" came and went and they became oddly numb as I dressed... like when a leg falls asleep over the arm of a couch. I pulled on sheer black stay-up thigh highs. Jeans and boots hid my bottom half. A camisole under my usual baggy style of shirt covered my top.

Things got a little uncomfortable at work, which worried me. But worry or not... I knew that too much time had gone by to change my mind. Pinching myself in the bathroom confirmed that my poor balls were dead. They were discolored a blackish purple... and it got to a point where I would too scared to take those rubber bands off.

A day passed and then another. I talked to some of my "girlfriends" online about it, who rekindled an unnatural excitement in me, but I hadn't told Bobby.

The dead things dangling under my penis reminded me of a newborn's umbilical cord I had seen once. A few more days passed and the dead things seemed like a giant kind of scab waiting to fall off. Then it happened.

It was night and I must have shifted wrong. I sat bolt upright as rubber bands suddenly closed over nothing and kind of slid-squeezed over the raw little spot where they used to be wound. I tore off the covers and saw a lump in my bed with a slightly unpleasant smell. There were dots of blood on the sheets. The raw dime-sized little spot where my testicles used to hang shone like a scab had just been picked off it.

I cried.

I had done it intentionally, but I cried anyway. Until that very moment, the self-docking hadn't seemed entirely real... and the love- hate aspect of my tortured obsession tipped toward the hate side in that terrifying instant.

With ointment over my raw little wound, I actually needed a pad in my panty while getting dressed as Brian the next morning. I had a lonely little penis and didn't have breasts... but I felt different... like less of a boy. In a strange sort of way, pulling jeans over my stockinged legs felt like the costume now. It almost felt like I was "dressing up" as Brian... like I was somehow hiding a more real Stacy instead of the other way around.

My online friends were so happy for me though. As I healed, it was hard not to enjoy the smoother look I could create on my crotch either. Self-hatred had drifted into acceptance. What had been done was done and I couldn't change it. Little by little, I started to allow myself to even be happy that I'd never have to worry about a beard or Adam's apple.

"You look different tonight Stacy."

"It's the outfit you sent me. Do you like it?"

"Definitely. But that's not what I meant. You seem, I don't know, a little softer somehow."

A month had gone by since testosterone had been cut off. I didn't notice any changes myself, but Bobby was always very attentive to my appearance. Still, the pleated tartan miniskirt, thin white calf-sox, patent Mary Janes, and simple buttoned white blouse created a Japanese schoolgirl look that made me look younger than most of my other outfits. The yarn-tied pigtails high on either side of my head didn't help either.

Even if I could explain away the "softer" look... I felt a sudden urge to finally tell Bobby what I had done.

I shrugged my small rounded shoulders coquettishly and said, "My body can't make that yucky testosterone anymore."


I had been not-so-innocently twirling my short little pleats... with a pink-nailed finger at my pouting lower lip.

"I lost two little friends last month. My little wee-wee looks so lonely now."

Bobby stared at me through the computer in stunned silence for a long while. It started getting uncomfortable actually.

"You aren't happy?" I asked.

"I'm happy if you're happy Stacy. How did... No... Wait.... Don't tell me. Does that mean you're taking hormones now too?"

"No," I answered simply.

"Would you like to?"

Oddly enough, I really hadn't thought of taking female hormones before. I had docked my testicles just to freeze a male puberty... not as a step to something more. But the idea Bobby planted immediately started tugging on the corners of my relentless obsession. His words made it seem that he could easily get them for me too, which made the idea even more painfully tempting.

I didn't answer him directly. I didn't trust myself at that moment.

"I've got a job Bobby. I couldn't."

"Why not? Why can't you get a job as you?"

"I couldn't. No one else's seen me like this. I've never been out before. I just couldn't Bobby."

He seemed deep in thought... even as the conversation drifted to other topics.

There was a smaller package than usual in my PO Box a few days later. There were no clothes, no jewelry. I trembled just looking inside.

I wore a simple outfit for my chat with Bobby that night... a little denim miniskirt and ribbed scoop-necked bodysuit, which showed a little of the cleavage that I could create (with medical tape, padding, and a severely pushed-up bra). I wore white and pink tennis shoes with down- turned little ankle-sox. My hair was up in a ponytail and my makeup was sparse.

"What are these?" I said holding up a bottle of pills to the computer.

"You don't have to take them," he said almost apologetically.

"And what about this?"

I held up a splayed fan of hundred dollar bills.

"It sounded like having to work was the reason that you didn't take hormones. I thought not having to work might help. I didn't think you'd be offended. I'm sorry Stacy."

I stared into the computer for a long while.

"I can't," I said almost more to convince myself. "I just can't."

"Nobody said you have too... but you can if you want."

"Why? Why're you doing this?"

"I thought we were long past that Stacy."

"We were... when it was just outfits Bobby. But hormones? Money so I don't have to work?"

"Why can't you believe that I just want to help you... that I LIKE helping you?"

"Because this," I said flagging the bills again, "makes me feel like some kind of kept woman."

"I'm sorry," he said actually hanging his head.

There was a long silence before I broke it. The truth was that both the pills and the money were tugging irresistibly at me. I didn't want to admit... even to myself... just how much I WANTED to take those pills... how much I wanted to accept that money and not have to pretend to be Brian at some nothing of a job anymore.

"No. I'M sorry Bobby," I said hanging my own head.

"Why? There's nothing to be sorry about. I'm the one who's..."

"Wait there... OK?"


"Please Bobby. Just wait there. I'll be right back."

I didn't wait to hear his answer. I got up... only to return with a glass of water that I put next to the computer. Smoothing my skirt under me as I sat, I noted Bobby's look of concern.

"Are you OK Stacy?"

"I'm fine."

I didn't elaborate. The short bustle of activity he watched seemed to fill the silence adequately. He didn't interrupt me.

Opening the bottle of pink little pills, I took one in my own pink- nailed fingers.

Bobby still remained silent, watching intently, as I took a mouthful of water into my sheer pink-colored lips and slipped the pill in.

I held it in my mouth, looking into the computer as if still capable of making a decision. Then I swallowed.

"You didn't have to..." he started to say in a hushed voice.

"I know Bobby. I wanted to."

"You did?"

I nodded for the camera even as tears started welling up.

"I have to go now Bobby. Thank you. Goodnight."

I didn't wait for his reply before cutting the connection.

My soft round shoulders shook as I sobbed. I cried long and hard... because I knew just how much I really wanted to take those pills. I cried because no matter how much I believed that I didn't want to actually become a woman... I knew how powerless I was to resist the changes those pills would bring. I knew how much I would even be looking forward to those changes.

But the changes didn't happen overnight. For the first months, I was still able to hide inside my boy-costume. Even though Bobby sent more than enough money each month so I wouldn't have to work, I keep my pathetic little job as a frail little loser named Brian as long as I could.

My online support network of girlfriends were so happy for me... many were even jealous... but the topic never came up with Bobby. For a long while, I started doubting that the pills were doing anything at all... until my nipples (that I hadn't noticed slowly enlarging) got hard one day.

Fortunately no one saw them. Fortunately I could tape and bind them from embarrassing me another time... for a little while anyway.

My seventeenth birthday came... and went unnoted by anyone. Tightly binding my increasingly swelling chest during the day became a part of my daily routine. I was actually surprised that I wasn't more upset by the teenaged girl's curves developing on me (top AND bottom)... and that I was so happy that there was something (even small) stretching out the outfits that I couldn't wear with a bra.

Bobby liked what he saw too. The months kept slipping by and I started filling out those same outfits a little too well.

Those bindings had become increasingly uncomfortable under Brian- clothes, even painful. No matter how baggy my clothes were though, they couldn't hide my softened skin and more feminine muscle-tone that the hormones had brought on too. People were mistakenly calling me "Miss" a little too often. I knew that I couldn't keep hiding for much longer.

"I'm still too scared Bobby."

"You shouldn't be. Just look at yourself."

I was wearing the red sequined cocktail dress and five-inch stilettos that Bobby had first bought me so many months earlier. I had nearly c- sized breasts and a tiny little waist that was accented by womanly hips and a cute rounded ass that looked more amazing than it should have.

But it wasn't just the curves. My soft feminine arms, shoulders, and even facial features were unmistakably "woman". My slender long legs were almost disturbingly sexy. My hair was thicker and fuller than ever... and nearly reached the small of my back. Even my voice had taken on the natural timber of a real woman... forcing me to "fake" something close to my old Brian-voice during the day.

"I took off of work today."

"Why?" he finally asked in the wake of my silence.

It was my eighteenth birthday, but that had nothing to do with my taking a personal day.

"I couldn't find my boy-voice this morning. After sounding like this all weekend, I couldn't sound like me! I tried and tried all day... and still haven't found it!"

"But you DO sound like you Stacy."

I didn't have the energy to debate the old topic of who I really was. I had heard his argument so many times that I almost had to fight believing it myself. Looking (and sounding) like I did made it even harder to fight him too.

I stared at him on the computer. Bobby had been the perfect gentleman for as long as I knew him. He had never asked me to even talk dirty to him... though he might have been surprised to know how much that I secretly wanted him to. I had long since given up fighting how my dress-up fantasies had simply become my regular fantasies too. I couldn't even remember the last time I diddled my flaccid little wee-wee while thinking of another woman. I diddled myself thinking about men and their penises. I had way too much secret practice swallowing a large dildo that I had named "Bob". I had actually grown to like the taste of whatever little bits of semen I could milk from myself too.

"If I'm going to be who you're looking at," I said into my computer, "I have to know something first."


"Can you take off your clothes for me Bobby?"

"Take off my clothes?"

"Yes. Take off your clothes."


"I want to look at a man."

He seemed to grasp the idea behind my little test and nodded before pulling off his shirt. Bobby's fit chest was covered by hair... not too much... but not too little. With his broad shoulders and defined arms, I felt a little ache stirring in my panties.

He stood and undid his pants, sliding them down below the camera with his shorts in one motion.

The hair trailing from above his hard belly to his thatch of pubic hair was sexy... as masculine... as his hips and well muscled thighs. But his flopped penis and hanging scrotum were what drew my eye.

"Touch yourself Bobby."

His large powerful hand took hold of his penis and slowly started to pull on it. Little by little, I watched it inflate and harden before my eyes as he slowly stroked himself.

I found myself breathing heavily as my little hidden wee-wee twitched uselessly in my panties. I reached under my sequined red dress and pulled it to the side of my panties... still out of view. I hadn't been able to actually get hard in months... but it still felt good to touch myself.

Bobby must have liked what little he could see too. With my hand under my hemline, I looked like a sexy woman fingering herself. I heard his masculine moans... which were matched by my own feminine vocalizations.

His free hand moved in front of his penis-head... and caught the cum suddenly throbbing into it.

My own poor wee-wee throbbed too, but the same dainty hand that I was using to touch myself only caught the pitiful little ejaculate that came out.

Out of habit more than anything, I pulled my hand out from under my dress... brought it to my glistening lips... and quickly slurped and licked my fingers clean. I didn't realize that I was even doing it until I heard Bobby's murmured, "oh my god that's hot."

Bobby didn't do the same with his spilled seed. He used tissues from somewhere close by to wipe and clean his palm before he got dressed.

I stood and deftly tucked myself back between my legs... hidden under the hem of my dress. I didn't sit back down. Moving out of view for a moment, I came back with a pair of tweezers and a mirror that I propped up next to the camera. Then I sat.

"What are you doing?" he whispered.

"Becoming Stacy."

The camera had the same view that I saw in the little mirror. Neither of us spoke as I plucked one and then another little brow hair. I normally kept my brows clean and kind of "neutral" in shape... but they slowly drifted toward something more feminine as I kept plucking.

Little by little, my poor little brows became thinner... delicately arched... pretty.

Most everything else could be hidden, even under painful bindings and baggy clothes, but brows couldn't. They were there for the entire world to see... and would take weeks, if not months, to grow back in.

But I wasn't looking to hide them. I wasn't interested in "neutral" and being able to look like Brian in his clothes during the day. Oddly enough, I wanted to be unable to look like him if I was ever going to get the courage to venture into the world as Stacy. I almost needed unmistakably feminine brows to help force the issue.

So "pretty" drifted toward "beautiful" as I kept plucking. My delicately arched brows kept thinning toward sexy... and then even erotic.

I put my trembling tweezers down and looked at myself in excited terror. I used a brow pencil to help define those thin wisps... something I would need to do every morning for quite some time.

I was still shaking in those silent moments. Brian had been utterly erased. Those brows framed a distinctly feminine face... a woman's face... my face. I had turned myself into Stacy... and there was no way to undo it.


I ignored Bobby's voice as I got up and started rummaging around the room.

"Stacy?" he repeated.

I was gathering my Brian-things into a large garbage bag that I had gotten >from the kitchen.

"What are you doing?"

I pretended I didn't hear him but I knew that he was watching my every move. My Brian-things had been in little piles around my apartment. Closet and drawer space was a problem... and there was no way I was going to let my pretty Stacy-clothes get wrinkled instead.

The process was surprisingly fast. I hadn't bought clothes for Brian in a long time. I hadn't even owned boy's underwear or sox for over a year. "His" clothes fit in one bag.

Bobby always made sure that I had a purse to match my outfits. I dug the contents out of Brian's jeans... and transferred my keys into a tiny red sequined clutch in my closet.

I didn't even put on a jacket. Stacy didn't own one. As terrified as I was of being seen though, I held the tiny evening bag in one hand... and dragged the garbage bag behind me and out of the door.

Those stilettos were five-inches and made navigating the apartment stairs difficult with my hands full. I just forged ahead as if nothing was unusual though and deposited my old clothes at the curb. I fumbled in my purse for the apartment key a short moment later... and stepped in rubbing my slender bare arms for warmth.


Bobby hadn't disconnected. He was watching the whole time and waited for me to return from outside.

"It's getting cold outside," I said still ignoring his concerned inquiries.

"You should've worn a jacket."

"I didn't have anything to go with my outfit," I pouted.

"That can be fixed," he said with a little smile.

I gave him an unconcerned little shrug... as if I already knew that he would be the one fixing it.

"What about work?" he asked while staring at my new brows.

"Work? I don't have a job."

"I love you Stacy."

His words caught me completely off guard... and it took a long moment for them to sink in.

I stared at the computer in silent disbelief but he didn't dare move the smallest muscle.

"I... love... you... too," I replied after a long pause.

My words felt truer as each one escaped from me. I really did love Bobby... my Bobby. But in spite of the words we both uttered, I knew that he would never be the one to cross another line... a line he had drawn from the very first day.

I was still trembling when I said, "I'd like to meet you for real Bobby."

"I'd like that too."


"As soon as you'd like," he said with a warm smile and a glint in his eyes.


"Anything for you Stacy."

I heard myself give Bobby my address. Not my PO address... but my real address. He tapped away on his computer for a moment while we made small talk. He was suddenly telling me what flight he'd be on and when he would meet me.

"Flight? How far are you?"

He was cross-country but it didn't matter. He was going to be on the next flight. I suddenly looked around at my sad little excuse for an apartment. A flight meant a place to stay... and a hotel didn't seem right to suggest.

But my offer to put him up was met with an almost amused warm smile.

"I don't think I'd be comfortable there. I've booked something close. Let's play it by ear."

We talked some more but I knew he needed to get ready.

"I'm so nervous," I said shivering toward the end of our conversation, "I don't even know what to wear."

"How about the black dress?"

"The long bustier?"

"You always look so elegant in it."

I actually blushed.

He did have to pack. There were more admissions of love that felt so strangely right... and we finally said our goodnights.

I barely slept... and kept staring at the clock after getting up the next morning. Bobby was going to get there around four in the afternoon. As scared as I was to leave the apartment again, there was something I wanted to do before he got there. Something I needed to do.

I didn't put on the black dress right away. I put on a suede above-the- knee pencil skirt, cream tights, brown leather three-inch high calf- boots, and a simple long-sleeved cranberry sweater with a wide brown belt to tie it all together. Simple jewelry and a sprits of perfume finished me. I didn't put on any makeup... but it didn't matter with my new brows.

Forcing myself to make some embarrassing phone calls, I was finally able to get an appointment on short notice. I put keys, money, perfume, and some makeup in a brown Coach purse and slung it over my shoulder. Smoothing the brushed suede of my skirt with a deep breath, I turned the knob of the front door and forced myself out.

The click of the door behind me was terrifying. Remembering my little run to the curb and back the night before was nothing in comparison.

This time, I wasn't running back.

I didn't burst into flames or die of embarrassment in the light of day though. People didn't stare at me and call me a freak. I did my best to hold down my terror and just keep moving as if nothing were wrong. Each click of my boots on the sidewalk seemed to bring me a sense of relief and an unexpected confidence. Slowly at first, and then more quickly, a growing sense of joy started pushing out the fear.

I was doing it! I was out in the world as Stacy!

I hailed a taxi and felt the terror momentarily creep back as it pulled toward the curb. Sliding my legs in behind me, I closed the door and looked at the driver's expectant eyes in the rear view mirror.

I found my Stacy-voice, the only one I COULD do it seemed, and told him the address. He started the meter and drove off as if nothing was wrong in the world at all.

The flicker of fear returned before stepping into the beauty salon... but I went in anyway.

"Hi. I'm Stacy. I have an eleven-o-clock with Cheryl?"

"Stacy... Stacy... Yes. Here you are. Do you know what you want today?"

"I was thinking about going blonde and doing something with this mess. I want to keep it long, but I haven't had a cut in years."

"Then let's start you with Janet, our colorist first. OK?"

"That sounds lovely," I said with the confidence returning.

I was given a long salon cape that nearly covered my outfit entirely. After being led to the sinks and meeting Janet, she shook her head at the bit of suede skirt still showing.

"Here. Let me drape this over you too Stacy. We wouldn't want to get any chemical on your skirt."

"Thank you," I smiled sincerely.

Janet washed and shampooed my hair before working smelly chemical dyes into it. She used a toothbrush to apply some of it... and crinkled strands between bits of foil too. I felt like some kind of human radar- dish... and too foolish to be scared while Janet timed the color.

The foil came off and I was being rinsed. Janet gave me an application of a color-setting conditioner before rinsing that out too. I stared at my reflection in disbelief as Janet squeezed my hair in a towel and wrapped it into a turban above me.

I was shivering.

I was blonde.

Janet walked me over to Cheryl's station, where we met and made light talk about what I might want.

"You're hair is beautiful but almost too long. Nobody wears it like that anymore. I can make it even more full and luxurious... if you let me layer it and bring it to about here."

Cheryl held her hand like a knife at the base of my shoulder blades.

"OK. You're the expert," I said smiling, "Do what you think'll look best."

"Really?" she said with almost giddy excitement... like I was a blank canvas for her art.

"Uh huh."

Even though I trusted her, I still inwardly cringed as she clipped long lengths of my hair. Cheryl talked enough for the two of us, but couldn't help pull me into her stream of words.

"Are you doing this for a special occasion or just a change?"

"Actually... a little of both."

"Really? What's the occasion?"

"I'm going to see my boyfriend. I haven't seen him in a long time."

"Ooooooo that's exciting! Has he seen you as a blonde before?"

"No. I thought I'd surprise him."

"Oh you're going to surprise him alright! I'll make sure of THAT!"

Cheryl couldn't help talk about her boyfriend and how in love they were too.

"How long... you know... has it been since you saw him?" she asked tentatively.

"Too long," I said with a little laugh.

"We do waxing. Do you need a little on your bikini line?"

"No. I'm OK down there," I said as if talk about pubic hair was the most common topic in the world.

"My Roger likes things nice and tidy too. It's a pain... but he likes things totally smooth. How about your Bobby?"

"I think they're all the same."

"I KNOW! It's like they want us to be women... but to look like twelve- year-old girls where it counts. If only they knew what we went through for them!"

I chuckled for reasons that Cheryl could never understand.

She kept cutting. Split ends and frizzes were long gone as Cheryl shaped a beautiful style that ended right where she showed me before... at the lower edge of my shoulder blades. It couldn't believe what the layering did though. In spite of cutting long inches off of me, the layering made what she left seem so much fuller and voluminous... like I actually had more instead of less hair.

Cheryl didn't give me bangs, but shorter lengths in front started creating an almost painfully sultry look with everything else she was doing.

They dryer came out and hot hair kept my new hairdo blowing into my eyes as she brushed and dried it. As instructed, I kept my eyes shut as she sprayed things in place with little touches from her fingers.

"Ta-da! Do you like it?"

"Like it? Cheryl... I LOVE it!"

"It did turn out nice," she said smiling proudly at her work.

Nice wasn't the right word. It was astonishing. I looked at myself... but didn't see myself. The sultry blonde mane cascading about my shoulders had turned me into someone entirely different... someone unbelievably sexy.

She added, "I know you're set with waxing... but how about a manicure? We've got a special deal with a pedicure today."

I was soon at a nail station with another technician. An Asian woman who barely spoke English put foam separators between my toes and started working on me. I chose a bright glossy red polish that was soon drying on my sexy little toes while she started on my hands, which had been soaking moments earlier.

The options were almost too exciting to even contemplate. Sport length, fashion length, round tip, square tip, French tip. The black dress Bobby wanted to see on me really was elegant. The bodice was a very fitted bustier with built in push-up cups that created riveting cleavage with my spilling c-sized breasts. The closely tapered skirting was a rich black velvet and "floor length"... though I needed the five-inch strappy patent stiletto sandals to keep the hem off of it. It had a high long thigh-slit that (because of its close taper) showed more than an occasional glimpse of my shapely slender leg.

Elegant... but very sexy. I already imagined how my bright red toes would show through ultra-sheer shimmering nude thigh-highs. I already planned for my fingers (and lips) to match their bright glossy red too... and fashion length didn't seem enough for what I envisioned.

Cuticles were pushed and cut. The technician glued on oval tips that were a full inch long.

She filled, filed and buffed them. She applied a strengthening silk wrap and base coat of polish for the same reason. The following bright red polish made my slender finders look almost obscenely sexy... and overdone for my daytime suede skirt and cranberry sweater. A top coat made those over-long nails even stronger before she dried them.

My thank-you's and tips to all of them were genuine. I couldn't have been happier with my new look... and couldn't wait to get home to get dressed for my Bobby.

Back home, and carefully of my new nails, I stripped out of my outfit and put everything neatly away.

I had no idea what would happen or what I was capable of... but I wanted to be prepared. I hadn't eaten for over a day... and had picked up a package of douches on my way home. I didn't know if I would ever REALLY be ready for the reason I squirted feminine cleansers inside me, but my bowels were soon empty and smelled of lilac... "just in case".

I slid on a pair of lacy black thong panties and pulled my bald lonely wee-wee back tightly between my legs. I was almost over-cautious of my talon-like nails as I drew the ultra-sheer glittering nude thigh-high stockings over my smooth legs. The pretty elasticized lace tops nearly reached my crotch. My red-polished toes looked as sexy as I thought they would through the glittering sheer hose.

After somehow managing the tiny buckles on my strappy skyscraper stilettos with those impossible nails, I also managed to clasp on a gossamer-like gold ankle-bracelet.

A sheer foundation made my face look flawlessly smooth. Dark liner extending just past the outer corner of my upper lid and a smoky dark shadow worked with thickly curled and lengthened lashes to create a captivatingly sexy allure to my eyes... a look that was exaggerated by my exotically lined thin brows. I used a bright red liner just outside my lip-line to make my lips look even more plump and full than they were. Brushing on the matching bright red all-day color and liquid gloss gave them an almost whorishly inviting pout that looked meant for more than just kissing.

I strategically sprayed on more perfume before unwrapping the dress Bobby wanted to see me in. Unzipping it slowly, I carefully stepped my five-inch stilettos into the tight skirting so I wouldn't catch the lining. After wiggling it up, I spent the next five minutes trying not to ruin my nails as I pulled up the straining (but strong) little zipper. The beaded bustier of a bodice was very fitted and subtly boned like a corset. I spent most of those five minutes exhaling to draw in my waist as I worked that little zipper up.

I arranged my seemingly ponderous breasts in the push-up cups and stared in amazement (as always) at the dramatic cleavage they created.

My body was both slender and curvaceous at the same time. My womanly arms, shoulders, and even smooth pits looked exquisitely bare... particularly with my cascading blonde mane falling loosely about me.

I drew on long velvet gloves over my elbows. The long fingers accommodated my over-long red nails, which I couldn't wait to unveil for Bobby later that night. Somehow, I put in my long dangling diamond earrings and a matching pendant that all but got lost in the valley of my breasts. A glittering diamond bracelet over one glove was almost cliché... but oh so sexy.

I put my apartment key, perfume, lip color, gloss, and a small compact into a little velvet clutch with a crystal studded faux-buckle... and waited.

Four o-clock rolled around. Four thirty.

There was a light but confident knock at my door and I was suddenly terrified. I wasn't sure I could open the door. I wasn't sure that I could actually go through with seeing him. I even thought of pretending I wasn't there until he went away.

But then I remembered what I looked like. My hair wasn't boy's hair. My feminine brows couldn't be hidden. I had ponderous breasts that actually hurt to try hiding them. I had lost one voice... and seemed stuck with a woman's voice for the moment. Whether I was ready for him or not, realizing that I was stuck looking like a woman somehow strengthened my resolve. Remembering the moments of joy as Stacy that same day also helped me to put my gloved slender fingers on the door knob.

"I really do love him," I whispered to the air as I turned that knob.


Bobby stared as if seeing me for the first time... which was true in more ways than one.

"Bobby," I said sweetly as I planted the kiss I had been planning all day.

His lips felt so warm... so soft... so delicious on mine. The smell of his aftershave; the gruff of his stubble; his imposing masculine size; even the heat of his breath threatened to melt my weakening legs.

Seeing him in front of me for real, I was a little surprised that he actually looked so truly handsome to me in his tux.

I felt the familiar ache of longing in my hidden crotch as he eventually pulled back to drink me in.

"You look more stunning than I could ever have imagined Stacy. You're hair is incredible! Blonde definitely suits you."

"Thank you Bobby," I said blushing like a silly schoolgirl.

"May I come in... or should we just go? I have a car waiting downstairs."

His comment was leading and I was embarrassed about my ugly little apartment anyway. He crooked his arm for me to take, which I did... and let him lead me out of the door. There was a white box with a huge ribbon propped in the hall.

"What's that?"

"Oh... that? Nothing. Just a small present for the woman of my dreams. Open it Stacy."

The ribbon wasn't actually tied and came away with the lid.

Inside was a pure white fur wrap with a beautiful silk lining. All politically correct thoughts about wearing fur were pushed aside as Bobby lifted the wrap gingerly from the box and moved it behind me. I let him drape that luxurious dream of white over my bare shoulders. Unconsciously, I plucked my long hair from under it and rubbed that impossibly soft fur with my gloved hands.

"It's beautiful," I said giving him a delighted thank-you kiss before I even realized I was doing it.

"You said you needed a jacket," he said smiling.

I took his offered arm and let him lead me down the stairs to the car.

The word "car" was an understatement though. A driver held the door of an impossibly long limo at the curb.

I tried my best to look as if the limo and whole setting was perfectly normal to me. I was helped into the limo before Bobby slid in next to me.

"I feel kind of silly calling you Bobby. It seems almost childish."

"Bobby, Bob, Robert... whatever you want to call me is fine Stacy."

"Robert seems to suit you for now."

Bobby nearly melted from my bright smiled and I was suddenly hit with a feeling of unfamiliar sexual power that I wasn't prepared for. I had been too busy being scared... self conscious... fragile even... to understand what I meant to him. He had showered me with clothes and jewels and the kind of attention most women could only dream of. He had paid for my apartment and way more than I needed for expenses. He had been there for me every night that I went on the internet... and had just flown across the country at my mere word.

I could have called him anything I wanted and he would have accepted it lovingly. But I didn't want to abuse that intoxicating power. He was still my Bobby, whatever I called him... and I loved him too much. With all my being, I wanted to make him just as happy as I felt in his presence right then.

"So... Robert..." I started with a mischievous smile, "Where are you taking me in this tiny car?"

He smiled back at my little joke before saying, "You'll see."

The intimate little French restaurant was perfect... and I experienced an unexpected thrill from having everything done for me. I was helped in an out of the limo. The crook of an arm or strong hand on my waist seemed to be needed to "help" me walk. I didn't open or hold a single door. Chairs were held and people stood for me. My beautiful wrap was draped on me and taken off without my help. After he chose a wine, Bobby even ordered my meal.

The food, or what little I nibbled of it, was heavenly. No one asked for proof of age in that setting... and my first taste of wine was delightful.

After dinner, the limo took us to the opera. Bobby was definitely more excited than I was... though my smiling eagerness wouldn't show it.

"Have you ever been before?"

"No Bobby."

"Then you're in for a real treat!"

I expected to be bored out of my mind... but I wasn't. I never realized that opera was really a kind of play. The live voices gave me a whole new perspective. The power... the intensity... the emotion of it went through my very being.

But on another level, going to the opera was nothing about the opera at all. In between my newfound awe of it... the opera seemed like a place for women of means or position to be seen... and for men to show them off. It was about who could afford to sit where... and showing how richly the men could adorn their women.

We were in the limo afterwards and Bobby mentioned dancing.

"Are you tired Stacy?"

"Oh no," I lied with wide eyes.


"I'm sorry. Maybe a little. I'm not used to wine. I'll be fine though. Really Robert."

"No. No."

He didn't wait for me to say any more. He simply pressed an intercom button to the chauffer.

"We'll be going home now."

"Very good sir."

I was helped out of the limo and led into one of the most famous hotels in the world. An elevator operator brought us to a private floor where there was no hall... only a door... which Bobby's key quickly opened.

The expansive suit was almost daunting and nearly indescribable.

He had taken my wrap and walked me deeper into it.

"Drink?" he offered as he reached for a carafe of what looked like whiskey at a wet bar.

"No thank you."

He poured himself a drink in a crystal glass with ice and turned toward the media center. A soft lilting music soon washed through the suit.

"How about that dance then," he said with a smile and an outstretched hand.

"I've never learned."

"Then I'll have the pleasure of teaching you."

His smile was compelling. I moved close to Bobby and let him take my gloved right hand in his. He placed my other hand on the top of his other arm, over his rocklike hidden bicep, before he settled his hand on my half-exposed back.

I had known Bobby for a long time. I had watched him jerk off and even kissed him. I had hung on his arm and sat close all night. But being held close in his arms like that was gloriously disarming. In spite of my five-inch skyscraper heels, I still had to look up into his ruggedly masculine face.

"We can do what's called a Fox Trot to this. I'm going to step forward with my left foot... so you'll have to move back with your right when I do."

"How do I know when? Will you step on me if I do it wrong?"

"If I'm doing it right," he chuckled, "you should be able to follow my lead. Here. I'll show you."

It wasn't really the footsteps at all. It wasn't even pushing me with his arms. Bobby simply took a confident step forward into me... and the frame of our close positioning almost compelled me to yield backwards with him.

"Now there's another step."

He moved forward with his other foot... making me yield back again.

"And a little side-step... like if you were sliding sideways between movie seats."

His arms didn't nudge or push me. He just took a little step to the side and I, keeping the frame of our close position, simply moved with him.

"That's all there is. Step... step... side-step. Step... step... side- step."

He did it slowly, not to the music, and walked me slowly backwards. At some point, I turned my head to look behind me.

"Ah... ah... ah..." he mock-chided.

"I didn't want to bump into anything."

"You won't. I won't let you. That's my job. Your's is to follow... and to trust me... and to look beautiful."

I couldn't help blushing.

"Now might be a good time to show you what to do when I change our direction."

Bobby showed me a little variation that allowed the basic pattern to veer us away from a wall, table, or another couple. It almost didn't matter what I learned to do or not. My part was almost automatic if I just followed what his body was doing. I was too nervous to think of trying anything on my own anyway... which actually helped me to follow him better.

The music faded. As the next piece came on, Bobby could apparently tell that a Fox Trot would work again.


"I'm not sure," I giggled nervously.

"Relax. Don't be tense. Here we go... and..."

He moved forward and I yielded back. Doing it with the music made it easier... and so much more fun. Little by little, the repetitive basic steps and his sure lead made me feel like I was really dancing. The tap of my delicate high heels... the way the dance made my leg rhythmically escape the sexy thigh-slit of my dress... all if it made me feel so delightfully feminine.

"I'm doing it! I'm actually dancing!"

"And you're beautiful," He added.

After dancing me around the spacious suit, Bobby showed me a simple turn and a little dip.

I was beaming.

"I'm having such a wonderful time Robert. This is truly the best night of my life."

"You stole my words," he said as he brought us to a stop.

"I love you Stacy," he added looking longingly into my upturned gaze.

Our lips touched.

Our kiss wasn't an affectionate "hello" or "thank you". It was a kiss between a man and a woman... a lover's kiss.

I wasn't prepared for it.

In that moment, I realized that I had never really been kissed... really kissed... before. I hadn't even dated. Rare awkward games... like spin-the-bottle... could never have prepared me for the tenderness, the love, the passion... and barely controlled lust conveyed by his all consuming embrace.

Conflicting emotions swirled around and through me. His strong masculine presence made me feel more utterly feminine then I could ever have imagined. With his sheer size and power, I was helpless in his strong arms... but I basked in my absolute submission to that power. I was his for the taking... but I also reveled in his overwhelming desire for me... his hunger for me. I trembled just knowing that I was the cause of the bulge I felt suddenly swelling against me.

His tongue pushed past my teeth and our breath mingled. I actually felt my bosom heaving.

His strong hands held my small bare shoulders before slowly shifting behind me. Tingling waves of pleasure cascaded over my entire body as I felt Bobby unhook the little clasp at the back of my dress... and slowly draw down the tiny zipper.

I didn't stop him. I didn't pull away. Our mouths continued feeding off each other as he pealed open my heavily beaded bodice and my breast sprang free. He pulled down on the dress until, clearing my hips; it fell around me in a heap.

I gingerly stepped out of it without missing a beat and kick-slid it away while we kissed. With those strong hands briefly caressing my ample breasts, I stood there in just lacy thong panties, glittering ultra-sheer lace-top thigh-highs, velvet elbow-gloves, and strappy five- inch stilettos. Jewelry, makeup, and perfume didn't count.

Bobby slid his hands down and found the top of my thong, which he hooked his fingers under before pulling them down past my hips. As with the dress, they were soon kicked away from us.

Except for the shoes, hose, and gloves, I stood naked and trembling before my Bobby. I watched almost outside of myself as he pulled back to drink me in with his smiling eyes.

I expected to feel self conscious about my bald little wee-wee... but I didn't. Bobby knew who... and what... I was even better than I did. In that moment, standing naked before his hungry gaze, I suddenly felt whole and unconflicted. I saw myself through his eyes... not as a boy pretending to be a woman... but as a woman with a bald little growth between my legs. I truly felt like Stacy for the first time in my life... and nearly cried for the joy of it. The only reason I didn't cry was that my own lust for Bobby, a woman's lust, would not be denied.

Holding his gaze in mine, and with my slender arms still encased in those long velvet gloves, I unbuttoned his tuxedo jacket and slipped it off his shoulders before whipping it away behind me with a flourish. His bow-tie soon followed.

Bobby started removing his expensive cufflinks as I undid his cummerbund and slipped his suspenders off his shoulders. I never had to deal with a tux before and wasn't used to the unattached onyx buttons holding his shirt closed.

I could have unbuttoned them somewhat normally... but I was impatient. My velvet covered hands took hold of his collar and simple ripped open his shirt... sending onyx little buttons spraying all over the room.

He kicked-off shoes, which thumped their way towards a wall. His eyes twinkled with an almost amused smile mixed with his hunger as I started undoing his pants.

Bobby's pants and silk boxers were soon slumped at his feet. I bent my pretty knees to slide them (and his distracting black sox) off and away.

We faced each other. His manly body and his rigid hard-on, which strained towards me, made me tremble with excited anticipation.

I stared at his imposing penis in wonder. It was so big and veiny and surrounded by hair. It was almost scary... but beautiful. I almost couldn't resist reaching out for it... and took his sex in my velvet gloved fingers.

Bobby saw the same erotic vision of my soft gloved hand wrap around him before he closed his eyes and lifted his head back in moaning ecstasy. I could only imagine how the velvet felt on him, which worried me. I didn't want him to cum too soon. I wanted that magical moment to never end.

His eyes opened and met mine as my arms dropped to my sides.

"Be gentle with me Robert."

It was all the invitation he needed. Bobby swept me off my feet and carried me to the tremendous bed as easily as if I were a doll. He carefully lowered me on the mattress (still in my shoes, stockings, and gloves) before climbing on next to me... propped on one arm.

"You're trembling," he said with a soft smile as his fingertips barely traced my breasts.

I had touched myself many times... but what he was doing to my breasts and nipples sent waves of unimagined arousal washing over my inexperienced young body. Fearing he might stop if I moved even a muscle, I looked up into his eyes.

"That feels amazing," I murmured.

With a smile as a reply, he lowered his lips to a hard jutting nipple. Whatever he was doing with his lips and tongue made me close my eyes and moan as my body arched unconsciously to his exquisite ministrations.

"Oh god..." I heard myself pant.

With his mouth bringing my nipples pleasures I could never have imagined, Bobby's hand drifted over my skin and caressed the rest of my body. The feel of his hands tracing over my tight little tummy or gliding over my stockinged thighs was making me squirm and moan in unrelenting ecstasy.

Bobby had somehow moved between my legs and above me.

I started rubbing my velvet hands over his mountainous hard body... occasionally touching his glorious hard-on.

His hand found my bald little penis. The hormones seemed to have shrunk it... and I hadn't gotten hard in a long while... but his touch still felt incredible. There was no other way to describe it. He diddled my flaccid little wee-wee as if it was meant to be on a woman.

Our gazes remained locked with nervously excited anticipation as he lifted first one and then the other of my glittering stockinged legs back towards my head. My still-buckled stilettos pointed over the headboard. With my long-gloved hands holding the backs of my spread legs in invitation, Bobby guided his hard penis to touch the virgin button of my ass... and used his stiff manhood to swirl a bead of precum over it as a lubricant that made me tremble. He leaned into me and I felt the tremendous head of his penis slowly push aside my resisting flesh as it entered me.

I licked my plump glistening lips to help mask my face, which was wincing >from the exquisite combination of pleasure and pain. The relentless press of his penis slowly parted my yielding little hole. It hurt, but oh so deliciously, as it filled and stretched my poor girlish bottom beyond what seemed possible. Bobby saw me writhe and squirm in sexual nirvana as I wondered if his large manhood was tearing me.

His hairy pelvis soon pressed against my body. Bobby's penis was completely buried within me.

"Are you OK Stacy," I heard him whisper in a gravely concerned voice without moving.

Only after opening my eyes did I realize that I had tears in them.

The look of concern mixed with his lust was beautiful. I didn't even try to hide my crying as those tears rolled into my halo of blonde hair.

"I... love... you... so... much...Bobby..."

He wasn't Robert or Bob or anything else. He was my Bobby... and my emotions for him just couldn't be contained. Our eyes remained opened and locked as he slowly lifted his weight.

His withdrawing penis felt impossibly wonderful as it slid within me. Not pulling out completely, he paused for a moment before slowly pressing back inside.

"That feels... so... good Bobby..." I said with a smile amongst my tears.

"YOU feel so good," he grunted softly.

Bobby slid in and out of my young virgin ass, slowly at first...but gradually building in an urgent intense rhythm that held our silent gazes. I ached to keep as much of him inside me as possible and found myself pressing against his thrusts to impale myself deeper.

I could see him get closer to orgasm as his breath became short labored grunts. Unable to look away from his lust fogged eyes, I squealed in both pleasure and pain through my parted full lips.

"I'm going to cum Stacy..."

"Oh god Bobby... Oh my god... Oh myaaiieeeeeEEE..."

Bobby kept thrusting as I felt the first of his throbbing sex lubricate my poor hole with slick liquid fire. Even as my own flaccid little wee- wee leaked its own drips of cum on my tummy, he pushed and stayed inside me. I felt my tortured girly bottom clamp rhythmically around his buried penis, which was pulsing his semen deep within me.

He stayed coupled above me after we both finished. It felt oddly sad to feel his penis deflate before he pulled out of me with a little "pop" and rolled back to my side. I hadn't realized how much my legs ached until I lowered them back to the mattress.

"I love you Stacy," he said with an almost pained earnestness.

"Oh Bobby... MY Bobby... I love you too."

My poor stretched bottom couldn't clench shut and I felt his sex leaking out of me even as his eyes glanced at the pitiful drops of my own orgasm that dotted my smooth belly.

I don't know why I did it; but I finally slid one of the velvety elbow- length gloves off my delicate hand before tossing it over the edge of the bed. Seeing his eyes go wide at my inch-long red talons made me happy about my choice of length earlier. I somehow managed to take off the diamond bracelet that I wore over the other glove. Arching to put it on the nightstand, I could feel Bobby's rapt eyes on me. The other glove flew over the edge with its mate before I scooped the slick drops on my belly with my long-nailed fingers.

I liked them clean as if licking his penis, which started to swell again beside me.

"We don't want to leave a mess," I said mischievously as I rolled to my hands and knees above him.

It was too late to worry about a mess. Some of what leaked out of my bottom had already left a wet spot on the bed. But with my hormone- rounded ass raised off the bed while I faced his engorged penis, the bed was safe from more. Bobby's semen still seeped out of me, but now it just dripped unseen along my thigh to wet the lacy top of a glittery sheer stocking.

I lowered my lips to the tip of his penis and smelled the acrid scent of my bottom mixed with lilac. Ignoring any thoughts of my own ass- taste... I took Bobby's penis in my mouth and pulled off with a slurping lick.

"Stacy... You don't have..."

He fell silent as I took him in me again and swirled my tongue around his fully restored erection.

Keeping my long blonde hair out of the way with my long red nails, I devoured his poor penis while I cleaned it. It was amazing. I could never imagine how much I enjoyed being able to bring him so much pleasure. I was almost lost in my hungry feeding when Bobby's hot hard penis suddenly rewarded me with his throbbing sex.

I kept my full lips wrapped around him as his cum pulsed into my mouth. With a little squeeze from my long-nailed fingers to milk the last drop, I pulled off and swallowed my slick prize.

As much as I wanted to roll over and snuggle next to him, my wet thighs and damp stocking tops made me want to clean up. My lip color was an all-day formula, but I felt a need to at least look it over and possibly refresh my gloss too.

"I need to go to the bathroom."

Bobby only smiled as I gingerly got off the bed and collected my panties, clutch, and discarded dress on the way to the bathroom.

Several things were waiting for me when I got there.

A beautiful red satin nightgown hung by delicate spaghetti straps on a pretty fabric hanger on the shower rod. A red satiny stretch thong was draped next to it. New and assorted makeup, hair products, and creams were arranged around the sink. There was a box of tampons.

Instead of cleaning myself up and getting back in my dress, I finally unbuckled my delicate skyscraper heels and pealed out of the soiled stockings. A wipe of toilet paper and a warm washcloth quickly cleaned my thighs and bottom before I opened the box of tampons and unwrapped one.

I didn't even question Bobby's forethought at the time. How to apply the tampon was obviously clear too... and I placed it to my raw little bottom and depressed the end to insert it. Its little string dangled from my hole as I wrapped the unneeded applicator in a wad of toilet paper that soon thunked into the waste basket. Pulling on the stretchy satin thong and tucking my big clitty back between my legs, I tucked the tampon string from sight too.

With my pretty crotch held down smoothly and a tampon holding Bobby's cum inside me, I truly felt like a woman. Even before pouring that shimmering soft nightgown over my arms and seeing how erotically it draped over my hourglass curves, the meteoric shift in my own self image was complete. Hair, face, nails, skin, breasts, ass, hips... everything screamed Stacy. But it was more than that. It was more than feeling that my hole was more of a vagina than anything else at the moment. It was Bobby himself... and our love... that transformed me.

For all the time we knew each other, Bobby only knew me as Stacy. I had a past... but he never knew any of it. He never knew who I used to be. As I looked at how the spaghetti straps and playfully short hem of that nightgown accented my womanly shape, I couldn't see that old me either. I saw myself in the only way that Bobby saw me... as a woman named Stacy.

As much as I wanted to touch up my hair and makeup, I felt a need to use the removers and creams as if I were going to bed to sleep. I felt a need to be like I felt... real. My inch-long nails suddenly seemed like a caricature... and I used a clipper and file to carefully bring my talons to a more respectable, but still sexy, oval length. I took longer in that bathroom than I planned... like a woman.

I left my things in the bathroom and sauntered provocatively back to the bed in my nightie. Bobby had pealed aside the covers and lay naked on the mattress with an approving smile.

My voice was a soft whisper.

"I'm not going home tonight, am I?"

I was climbing into bed with him. Instead of ravishing me again... he threw the covers over the two of us and drew my soft yielding body in close to him.



"Unh unh."


"Not if you don't want to Stacy."

He reached across my body and turned out the light. Drawing me in even closer, he gave me a gentle kiss that wasn't intended to lead anywhere.

"I love you Stacy."

I couldn't help but smile in the dim light coming through the gauzy drapes. In so many ways, his NOT ravishing me, his prelude to simply sleeping with him, made me feel even more "real" than before.

"I love you too Bobby."

I snuggle in close to him, using the nook of his broad shoulder like a pillow as my still red-nailed delicate fingers nestled into the thatch of his chest hair. I almost couldn't help twirl it slightly... almost absently... as I drank in the moment.

A part of me was mildly surprised that I wasn't scared at the prospect of just BEING Stacy. In so many ways, I had already become her. There was nothing holding me back to an old life that I suddenly realized was actually the pretend life. Picking up everything to be with Bobby didn't hold any fear or nervousness either... only love.


"Yes?" he said with a sleepy voice.

I had forgotten about the red-eye, the time-zones, and how long he must have been up.

"What if I said that I didn't ever want to go home?"

"Is that what you want?"

"Yes Bobby."

"Close your eyes then."


"Close your eyes," he repeated as he reached across me to turn on the light.

Bobby propped himself on his side as our eyes adjusted to the light. He pulled something from under his pillow and took the very hand that I had been using to play aimlessly with his chest.

"Wait... this isn't right," he said climbing out of bed and dropping a knee, naked on the floor by my side.

"What are you doing?" I said intentionally ignorant.

If I wasn't scared before, I was now. There was a ring in Bobby's hand... a diamond ring. With him on a knee, I suddenly knew that he was actually going to propose to me.

It didn't seem real. It was like I was watching a movie of something that couldn't be happening. In spite of my nervous disbelief though, I sat with eyes still blinking from the light and swinging my legs over the edge of the bed... so that I wouldn't be lying down while he did it.

"I love you Stacy."

"I love you too Bobby."

"I want to take care of you; and to be with you; and to love you forever."

"Oh Bobby," I muttered with mist welling my eyes.

"Stacy... Will you marry me? Will you be my wife?"

My mist-fogged eyes stared in shock as he slowly slid the glittering diamond ring on my delicate finger. Mary him? Me? his wife?!

He drew his hand away while I continued to stare at that impossible diamond on my hand. My mind was filled with a whirl of thoughts.

"REALLY marry you Bobby?"

"Really marry me Stacy. Nothing pretend. I want you to be my real wife. I want to be your real husband."

I knew that to really be married, I would need to really be Stacy. I would need to legally be the person I had become... or more.

But the idea of legally changing my name, legally changing my sex, wasn't scary at all. Though both could be done without the final step of surgery, even THAT no longer scared me.

I couldn't think of a more delicate way of asking if he wanted me to take that step.

"Do you want a real wedding night too?"

He knew what I meant right away. A real wedding night included the kind of "consummation" that could only occur between a man and a woman. He smiled at how I had asked him if he wanted me to change my penis into a vagina.

"I'd like that very much."

I looked at the diamond and then back in his eyes.

The words didn't seem real even as I spoke them... but I meant them with my whole being.

"Yes Bobby... I will marry you. I will be your wife."

We were both trembling when he embraced me and our lips again met. Climbing back in bed with me, our lips fed off each other with a gentle passion that made me cry.

"Wait," I said leaping up for the bathroom.

With my panties discarded on the bathmat and a tampon swirling down the toilet, I rushed back to bed to pick up where we left off.

Bob and I made tender love that reached into our very souls. He fell into an exhausted sleep soon afterwards, and I laid there just watching his soft breathing before finally going back to the bathroom to get my panties and a fresh tampon.

I was soon asleep besides him... my Bobby... and was the happiest woman in the world.



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