Sooo Sweet

by Vickie Tern

Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Ma/Ma, TransGender, .

Desc: Sex Story: A wife telling a story about her husband

Wonderful, Sally! Come back in two hours, and don't give it another thought. Everything'll be just the way you want it. Wash, style, set, perm, the whole hairdo, same as in the book. And everything else, too. A complete makeover. It'll look fantastic, you'll see! Trust me!.

You haven't been here before, have you hon? Sally's one of my regulars. My name's Janet, by the way. Just sit down over here, and let's see what we've got to work with.

You know, there's a terrific woman, Sally! I'm sure any husband of Sally's would have to count his lucky stars he's got her for a wife. Some people marry lucky, some don't, you know? It's so easy to make a mistake when you're young. You don't know anything. People change. It takes a lot of love, and caring, and lots of adjustments to keep a good marriage going. Lots of give and take, believe me! But I bet you already know that!

Now, take my darling hubby. He is soooo sweet, and soooo thoughtful, and soooo generous. I feel so lucky to be married to him. He stops by every evening when I'm closing up shop, to kiss me good night before he goes off to work, and I just burst with pride and happiness. He is such a dear! Last night I was cleaning up, and thinking about things, when he showed up, and he was getting himself ready to go to work when it just came over me, I felt so good about him,

and so thankful, that I just couldn't help it. I jumped up on him and wrapped my arms and legs around him and squeezed him for dear life, and just plastered his face with kisses. Lipstick smeared all over. But I didn't care -- I just wanted him to know how I felt. He is soooo sweet! And he didn't really mind at all. He just patted me on my behind and said, "Anything for you dear, anything. I mean it!" And off he went to work, and he blew me a kiss when he went out the door. Oooh! That wonderful man!

Sometimes he's a little embarrassed when I'm "demonstrative," as he calls it, especially when I hug him or kiss him in public. But I don't care who sees! He's my absolute angel! The things he's done for me! That's right dear, just lie back and let me work in the suds.

We've always been crazy about each other. We grew up together, right next door, and we played together, and we walked each other to school, and we gave each other the measles, and we played doctor and nurse...well, you know the way kids are. Then we got to be teenagers and for a while we didn't see each other. He played with boys and I played with girls. You know, at that age. Then we got together again.

Well, he's almost as short as I am, maybe 5'1" or 5'2", and you can see I'm barely 5' standing on my tippy toes. So people naturally paired us up in their minds. My sweetie was much too short for any of the other girls in the class. And he didn't play sports, and he was only OK in school, no real brain, so no one else was interested in him anyhow. I tried to date some other boys but I was a little chunky then, stocky I think they call it, so other boys never took me seriously. So we started to see each other again.

Now back to the chair honey. I'd better hold the towel so that pretty blouse doesn't get damp. You just step carefully. Are those five inch heels? Brand new, you're just breaking them in? Very sexy, my dear! You do have plans for tonight! Well, we'll make you beautiful, never fear.

Next comes your perm. That's what they call it, but nothing's permanent, you know that. It'll just give your hair more body, to hold the curls better when we get around to them.

Anyhow, summer nights we talked about all kinds of things, our folks, and the stars, and what I was going to wear when he took me to the prom. You know. We kissed each other, and we undressed each other, and one night we lay down in the

moonlight and made love, the very first time for both of us. He couldn't have been more considerate and gentle. I had just gone down on him, and he was sort of caressing me between the legs, and I had just managed to get all three inches

of him into my mouth, and he asked if we could do it now for real, and I was feeling, you know, passionate, so I told him, you know, yes. So we did. It felt so good. We decided that night we'd marry each other. And when we graduated high

school and I finished beautician school, and he got that terrific job as night dispatcher over at the produce market, that's what we did. We got married.

And we both worked for a few years and bought a house in that development just south of town -- we're still there -- and he got a raise, and we started saving up for kids. No, we don't have any. I think I couldn't, was the problem, the doctor told us. Anyhow, now he can't. In the end we took the money and bought this beauty parlor, and here's where I've been ever since.

Yes. It's grown out long enough now, hon, and with this little bit of clipping it's shaped up beautifully. No problem. I'm going to put in so many curls you wouldn't believe it. But first we'll color it. Honey blond it'll be. It'll look just stunning with your dark eyebrows. You'll hardly ever need to use an eyebrow pencil, just the natural color. A little plucking of course. Now lean back some more, and we'll start the ball rolling.

Anyhow, there was this darling couple moved in right next door to us, and I brought over some cake and coffee near the end of the afternoon when they were pretty well unpacked, though nothing had been put away yet of course, and we began to get to know them. They were different from us. I mean, a lot different.

We're both little people, and we're used to looking across at each other and looking up to everyone else, and we always have each other to share things, and we always will. So we think the same about things. The couple next door, they were wonderful but they were... different. I couldn't figure it. They were...strange. They were both very tall. They looked down on everybody. I mean, even each other. He'd been an athlete or a dancer or something, way back, and he'd had so many girls I don't know for certain that he respected any. And she was very tall and thin, and wore lots of leather, and she'd gone with a lot of guys, and they'd both lived in the city for a few years, before they started dating. And I think they'd each lived in Europe for a while, too, though not at the same time. So they acted superior, you know, smooth, aloof, like they were slow dancing all the time, even with each other. They'd hardly talk. Just glance

and then sort of smile privately. Maybe they had hand signals. I don't know. Maybe they just lived together and didn't love each other. I never did figure what they did for a living, but there were always people coming and going from their house, and it was a real expensive crowd to judge by the cars they drove.

There's the timer. Back to the sink for just a moment, then back to the chair.

They argued a lot when they were alone, we could hear them, and they slammed things. Once, after they'd been shouting for hours, she came stomping out of the house dressed to the nines, in a leather skirt, with real heavy eye makeup and high, high heels, like yours, but with boots up to her thighs, and straps criss-crossing all over her, and she bounced over the curb backing out of the driveway, and she didn't come back till the middle of the next morning. Then you could really hear shouting. Well, the short of it is they got divorced soon after. He got the house. She took a place in town. But they still saw a lot of each other. They were business partners, it turned out. They "referred" clients to each other he once said.

Isn't this a gorgeous color? Wait'll we put it on your hair. It'll brighten and soften your whole face. Let me get the cotton rolls in now, and we'll be on our way. Pale pink nail polish and lipstick only with this hair color dear, or else bright red. Throw away all your dark reds. You'll be a dream boat. Just wait.

Well, my dear little hubby and I invited him over to dinner, our neighbor, because he had no one to cook for him. Not that she ever cooked

I think they always went out. But we felt sorry for him. And you know what? Around dessert, we were still at the table, and we told him that, and he said it

was the other way around, that he felt sorry for us. So we ask him, why in the world? And he answered because we seemed to be leading such dull lives. So we asked him, how, we have church work, and bowling, and I have my garden and my lovely hubby has his workbench.

And he said, "Well, you never go out, do you?" And we both said together, "What for?"

And he smiled and said, "And when you're home together, what's the most exciting

thing you do?" And we sort of smiled at each other and didn't answer him.

So he came out with it as bold as you please, and he said, "You have sex together, right?" And we glanced at each other quickly and then back at him, and looked embarrassed and a little pleased, I guess.

But then he said, "But I'll bet you never do anything really exciting or daring with each other. You ever have sex with other people? Or you ever do anything really kinky?"

Well, I wasn't sure I should follow where this conversation was going. I thought

maybe he'd been drinking, had a few before he came over, but my hubby asked him just then, "What do you mean?"

And then our neighbor, his name is George, George said, "Well let me put it this

way. What's your favorite flavor ice cream?"

And my sweet hubby answered, "I don't have a favorite. I like lots of different flavors."

And George said then, "But not in a wife, right? In a wife you only like vanilla, right?"

And I popped up then and said, "Wait a minute, why do you say I'm vanilla?"

And George turned to me and leaned way over the table with those big shoulders of his and looked straight at me real hard with those black eyes he has under those black eyebrows, and you know, I felt very strange, and he stared into my eyes and said, "Well, tell me what you two do with each other."

And he waited for one of us to reply, and neither of us did of course.

Then he gives me that half-smile and says, "You don't have to answer. I've seen you two at night. My bedroom's opposite yours, and you leave the shade up. He puts on a pink light. You take that little thing of his in your mouth and blow on it like a balloon, but it doesn't get any bigger. Then he climbs onto you and

fucks you with it, if he can find it. I don't know if you ever get an orgasm. Then you go to sleep. That's vanilla."

No, this is not one of those hair colorings that shampoos right out. Don't worry

about it. You are going to be so gorgeous you'll break hearts. I'm doing your face today too, right? And lots and lots and lots of blonde curls, that's what the doctor ordered.

Well, my sweet darling hubby gets a worried look on his face, and he says to George, "Well, what else is there?" You see, neither of us had ever had sex with anyone except each other. We once got a book from our minister, well a pamphlet really, called "Doing it God's Way!," and it turned out that's what we do. Parents never tell kids anything. And they'd never tell kids what else there is, anyhow. So it was a fair question.

George doesn't answer at first. He glances at my hubby, and then at me, and a really wicked smile comes over his face, you know, like when you're a kid and you're gonna drop a water bomb on someone? Then he turns suddenly and says mostly to me, "I have a proposition for you two. Here's Mrs. Vanilla, and here's a husband who likes lots of different flavors. You're good neighbors. I don't mind helping you. There's a way for you to find out what else there is, and to find out who likes what."

"What's that?" we both say together. I looked at my wonderful man, surprised. I was beginning to get a very funny feeling in my stomach and in my nipples, you

know? -- they got very hard all of a sudden. And down between my legs it felt as if my hubby was already there with his thing, moving it around. I was even a little wet. So I was a little quick to ask "What's that?" But then there's my hubby, as eager to find out as I am, and asking that same question that same moment.

"Well," says George. "There's no way I'm gonna tell Mr. Tutti-Frutti here what other flavors there are, what else he can do to pleasure you, and words don't count with matters like this anyhow. But here's what I'm willing to do. Mrs. Vanilla, you're a small woman, petite, but you're very good looking. You have a terrific body. Even though you don't do much with each other, when I'd see you undressed I'd have to whack off, even when my wife was still here, before the divorce. I'd watch you in your bedroom, and it was wonderful to see you, pert, cute, tight, with those upturned nipples like rosebuds just ready to open,

and your rear end shining like sunset over the desert. Whenever I'd see your mound I'd wish I could weave flowers into those delicate pussy hairs just above your crotch. You're a real foxy lady, Mrs. Vanilla. I've wanted to make love to you for a long time now."

He glanced at my dear hubby, and I did too, and he said "No offense, now!" But I could see there was no offense. I felt none. My hubby didn't say anything at all. He was staring at George with the strangest expression on his face and his body rocked back and forth ever so slightly. Those same delicious feelings grew in me, and I got even wetter. Could I be coming down with something? I didn't think so.

"Here's what I propose." He talked to both of us, but mainly to my darling man, as if he knew he had a willing listener there. "Dear friends, you place yourselves in my hands for the next five days, both of you, with absolute faith that I know what's best for you. I will teach Mrs. Vanilla some of the things people do with each other. Mr. Tutti-Frutti, you will watch what we do, each night. During the daytime the two of you can practice whatever you've learned with each other.

"If you are both apt pupils then maybe we will move on to another phase of instruction. What that may be depends. Probably your wife and I will go to different places together, sometimes different cities, usually overnight, sometimes longer, and I will introduce her to different people who will teach her still more. You will not accompany us to see what we do. Instead I will put you in the capable hands of certain people I know in this town, my ex-wife being one of them, who run intensive training sessions for people who want to change their lives the way you do, or their line of work. You'll do everything they tell you to do, or else I will come home with your wife immediately, and your whole course of instruction will be terminated. What they tell you to do depends upon what I find out about you during the next five days, starting tomorrow. Do you understand me?"

He used to talk like that. Like out of a book. But it didn't matter. I have never felt so excited in my life. I'd imagined and dreamed about going away with a dark stranger some time, while my darling husband was asleep, but I'd never told anyone, certainly not my husband. How did this man know? Was he a magician? I looked over at my sweetie pie, and I was astonished. He looked like a man in a trance, and I saw that under the table he had his whole pole out of his pants, and he was stroking it back and forth between his thumb and forefinger. "Yes" he croaked out.

"Well then, I'll leave you two to talk over my proposal."

There wasn't anything to talk about, really. I was getting ready to tell George that we'd do it if my sweetie agreed, when my sweetie came right out with, "We'll do it!" Without even asking me! Not that I didn't want to. I did, the worst way. I'd never felt so excited about anything in my whole life, not even the first time my darling put his thing into me and wiggled it around a little until it got soft.

Now we go under the dryer for a while, dear. Would you like a magazine, or would

you just as soon we keep on talking to each other? I don't have anyone else coming in this afternoon, not until Sally comes back, so it wouldn't be any trouble. But I don't want to impose on you. Time does go faster when you're in good company. People are so interesting! Let me fix us both some tea. Then I think I'd better start on your nails while your hair dries. We have a way to go yet. Do you take lemon?

Anyhow, my darling hubby phones in sick the next morning and says he'll be out at least a week, and spends the whole day walking up and down in our back yard. We have a light supper, like George tells us, and at 7:00 pm there he is at the front door, right on the dot.

"I want you both naked, right now," he says to us even before he sets down his valise. It turns out it was loaded with dildos and vibrators and chains and other such stuff meant to satisfy all kinds of tastes. So anyhow, we strip to the buff right then and there. It's a little embarrassing at first, because he just sits down on the couch and crosses his legs and looks at us, and doesn't say anything. But finally there we are standing in front of him, stark naked, up to our ankles in our clothes, wondering what else to do.

"Mr. Tutti-Frutti," George says. "Now gather up all of the clothes on the floor and take them upstairs, and fold them and put them away, or put them into the laundry, or whatever you do with them. Then I want you to pick out your wife's prettiest nightgown, one she saves for special occasions, and bring it down here. You're going to dress your wife for me to fuck her. But take your time. We have lots to do here first. When you're ready, just sit on the landing over there and

watch us. Don't join in with us at first.

Here you are. Do you take sugar? I brought you a slice of lemon. I'm sorry I can't offer you cream.

Well, my sweet dear looks so worried! He gathers up our things and heads for the

stairs, looking back at George and at me with such a mournful expression. But I noticed there was a kind of wild gleam in his eye also, or I would have stopped everything right then and there. I didn't want to, but I can't stand it when my honey bun seems to be even a little bit unhappy.

Well, I didn't even notice when my sweetie got back to the landing and sat down on an upper step to watch us, with my white lace honeymoon nightgown across his knees, because by then I was giving George a huge blow job. George had his middle finger up my ass and his thumb in my pussy, and was moving my hips up and

down and back and forth to help me get into a good rhythm for running my lips and tongue up and down his cock. It was a real slow rhythm, because he had an enormous cock. I thought at first it was his arm with a huge purple fist at the end instead of a hand, somehow ended up hanging between his legs instead of from

his elbow. But no. He kept me at it for maybe a half hour, it seemed. At first I

couldn't get my mouth open wide enough just to take in the head, that huge purple helmet that felt as soft as satin to my lips. Then finally when my mouth was wedged onto it he really got me moving, with one hand in my crotch and the other hand under my arm alongside my breast, with its finger or thumb grazing and rolling on my nipple -- I don't know which because by then I was going crazy. I felt this tension building and building in me until I couldn't stand it, and then it washed down all over me in wave after wave.

Well, you know. It was my first orgasm, it turns out. And my honey bun had one too, it seems, because he was pulling on himself all the while he was watching me rolling and writhing and bucking and crying out with my mouth stuffed and my bottom crammed. I found out when I saw a little of his cum on my nightie later, and asked him about it. It was very dear, you know, that we both came together that first time for me. I've never forgotten!

You know, your cuticles have been neglected terribly. But you have long fingers,

and I'm going to attach some long fingernails until yours can grow in under them, and I'll give them lots of protection. So it doesn't really matter.

Anyhow, that was just the beginning. George had my sweet hubby slip my nightie on me and then stand back, and then he told me to straddle his lap facing him, on my knees while he sat in the couch, and to try to put that enormous cock into

me. Well, I was just too small -- it wouldn't go. So he sent my hubby for some Vaseline jelly to help me get started, and he lifted my gown and he licked my nipples. I really started to glow.

When my sweetie came back down, George told him to help by reaching between my legs to spread the jelly on his prick, and to try to spread my pussy lips around

the head of his cock, so he could get started into me. Eventually, he got a little way in, and we settled for that, and I came again, and he came too, squirts and squirts of thick ropy semen running out of me when I dismounted, because he hadn't gotten very deep into me to begin with.

Then when I turned to see where my darling hubby was, there he sat cross legged on the floor. He had just diddled himself again, and he had come again, into a kleenex. Twice that night! A record for him! He looked satisfied enough. But you know, I felt sort of sad that I was having all the fun with George, and he wasn't having any.

I told George that, and he said, "All right, then, we can arrange something for someone who likes mixed flavors."

And he asked me to slouch down in the big easy chair, with my legs apart and my bottom perched on the edge of the cushion, so my pussy was just over the edge, and he called over to my sweet sad darling and he pointed to me, and there I was, wide open on the edge of the chair, still oozing.

Part Two

So he told my sweetie, "There's your wife, Mr. Tutti-Frutti. Her flavors today are my cum and her cum. Clean her out with your tongue and make her neat and dainty again, so I can get back to fucking her properly."

Well, my sweetie immediately dropped to his knees in front of me and buried his face in me, and started to lick me and kiss me and suck on me and push his nose and his tongue into me. It felt a lot like his penis, and I began to get excited again because it was my dear sweet baby, and he was so passionate, and he was gobbling like he could never drink up enough of me, and I just closed my eyes and pushed my hips into him over and over, and he pushed his head back into

me stroke for stroke, and I began to moan and then to cry out and finally I came

again, and it was wild!

You know what? So did my sweetie! A third time! All while he was sucking George's cum and my juices out of my cunny, and licking my pussy hairs clean, he

was pulling on his weenie with his thumb and forefinger again. So that was the first time we both came together with each other! It was like getting married all over again.

Well, for some reason George was annoyed with my sweet little hubby. He said something about too much self abuse, and began cleaning up to leave. I was disappointed, but it had been a big night for me, and I couldn't complain. Before he left he handed me a vibrator, not as big as he was, and a huge penis dildo about his size, really a monster, and he told me to ask my sweetie to work

them both into me a few times tomorrow during the day, to stretch me out and prepare me, he said, for a real man's prick. He also said we should try out the positions he had demonstrated for us.

Careful with them now, they have to dry. Isn't that the prettiest shade of pink?

Well, the next day we tried to do what George said, but it wasn't too successful. At first my poor dear was too exhausted from the previous night, and couldn't even get it up. Then we worked at getting the vibrator into me, and the dildo, and my cunny gradually got a little bigger and looser, especially with lots of lubricant, but the dildo still didn't get all the way in. Then we tried that position with me squatting over my sweetie, but I was already stretched enough so I couldn't bring myself down onto him far enough to find his thing. He licked

my nipples, and that was sweet, and I hugged his head and crooned at him, and nursed him. After a couple of minutes, he fell asleep, my precious baby! Then when he woke up and I asked him to kiss my pussy the way he had done it last night he didn't seem very interested.

All right, honey, now we start with the curls. Hundreds of them. This'll take a while, so bear with me. And I'm going to roll them up very tight, because I know

you'll want them to last, and the springier they get the better. So I'll be pulling on your scalp, and it may hurt. If it gets too bad just tell me, because

the setting lotion is soothing, and I'll just use more of it. Your set'll just last that much longer. Women have to suffer to be beautiful, sometimes! Don't we

know it! But it's always worth it!

Anyhow, it went like that for the rest of the week. What seemed to get my sweetie excited was watching George do it, not doing it himself. The third day I managed to sit down on George all the way, and once I had all of him inside me

I couldn't move. I felt like a stuffed sausage ready to split on the grill. But the next day, and the last day, the fifth day, I was able to fly up and down him

like a flag flying up and down a flagpole, coming the whole time in one wave after another, and singing? George told me I never stopped!

And it was odd. While I was having such a good time on George, my sweetie just kept watching with his big round eyes, and pulling on his tiny pecker, and he seemed happy enough. But as soon as George came in me and pulled out, he was on me like a shot. No matter what position I finished in with George, my honey crept or jumped or twisted or climbed or wiggled until his whole mouth was on my

pussy, and then he'd suck up George's juices and mine with so much gusto I'd come and come again. But he couldn't do it when there were no juices, like when he fucked me with the dildo.

Then there was something else, too. When I was stretched out the way George wanted, I couldn't feel my honey lamb's penis in me at all, during our afternoon

practice sessions. I suppose it was there somewhere after he put it in me, but it just got lost. So that was one position less. But we sure were learning others!

By the third day, George worked out what was really happening. After he fucked me, and after my sweetie had licked me clean, George called him over and commanded him to drop to his knees and eat his prick, which was still covered with my juices. Well, the dear man just dropped as if he was clubbed, and started in on George's soft prick. There was my hubby, nibbling and gobbling and sucking away on George as if he had been starved to death. He got George all up and excited, then he wouldn't quit, even when George told him to, and when George came he swallowed all of it down as fast as it came pumping out. So that told George something he wanted to know.

The next day, we were finally having a good time all of us together, me slipping

my pussy up and down on George's prick and my sweetie slipping his mouth all over it, and then slurping me and George out of me. So George tried something else. He sent my sweetie up to our bedroom to get my lace nightie again and bring it down, and then he told my hubby to slip it on, not to slip it on me but to slip it on himself. Well, that's just what he did! It fit him perfectly, except in the bust of course. And you know, he immediately got what I'd swear was the biggest erection I've ever seen on him, huge, poking out of my nightie three and a half, maybe even four inches!

And that's not all. George called me over and told me to shove something up his ass, well greased up. I picked up the dildo, because at first I thought that was what he meant, but no.

"He's not ready for that yet," George said. "We'll let my ex-wife work on that with him. Just push the vibrator into him very slowly, an inch at a time, and then wait, and when it's in him all the way turn it on."

So that's what I did. There we were, both of us, me pushing that greased up plastic tube into my loving hubby's behind, a little at a time, and George in front caressing my hubby's nipples with the tips of his fingers, though the satin of my nightie. And my sweetie had his eyes closed, and the sweetest smile on his face! He was in seventh heaven. I mean my sweet lovely man was utterly blissed out! I was so happy for him!

Then when I finally got the vibrator all the way in, and that took some time, believe you me, I turned it on, and a second later my dear sweet hubby was squirting and squirting cum into my nightie and all over himself. And you know what I remember most about it, to this day? Just as he started to come, he let out the most delicious squeal! Just pure delight! I can still hear it! And I decided right then and there that I would do anything to make him feel that happy again. Anything! My sweet, sweet sweetie!

Then the last day we did a lot of things like that with each other, but a lot of

the time we just talked. It was kind of like hearing your report card read out loud. First George talked about me.

"Janet," he said. "Mrs. Vanilla. You have more fruit flavors in you than you have ever imagined. I want you to be on call for me for about two months. Continue to run your beauty salon and to make appointments, but for only for a few days at a time. Explain you have a sick mother who may need your attention on short notice. Then I'll give you short notice when I want you to come with me to meet with people, and to sleep with them as I direct you, and so to continue your education."

"They may be people of either sex or any age, but they will each teach you how to satisfy them, and they will all have different tastes, and when the two months have ended that knowledge will be yours for whatever your purposes. You will no longer be Mrs. Vanilla. That I assure you."

"I'll supply you with appropriate clothing, and take care of other necessities, and pay all the costs and expenses when we travel out of town for a few days at a time, now and then. In turn, any money these people may leave for you will be mine. Is that clear?"

I nodded.

He turned to my darling hubby, who was listening as if his life depended on it. "Now you are a different matter," he said, "but we have encountered your kind of

problem often before, and in fact my ex-wife runs an establishment for dealing with it in which I retain an minority interest. You are what is called gender dysphoric. You don't know what your true sex is, or what sex you feel most attracted to. I know you love your wife, but I know also that you found me far more exciting sexually. Whether that is because you are a man who is turned on by men, a gay man, or a woman in a man's body, a transsexual, or a man who enjoys looking like a woman and then playing various women's roles, a transvestite, we don't yet know. But we can find out, and when we do we can train you to perform and enjoy performing the kinds of sex best suited to you."

"The process is one of total immersion, in an ten or twelve week residential training school where you will live, study, work, breath, and relax as you are told to do these things, and no other way. You will not see your wife during this time, probably not at all. But I can assure you, you will emerge from this course of retraining a happier person by far. A different person. They may even give you a different name. You will know what it is you want, and you will know how to get it. At the least, you will know a great deal about what girls want, how it feels to be one, and how to satisfy one. You will come back a much better lover. You will not be the man you are now, I assure you."

"This is a very expensive course of study. But we also provide you with loans, and the means for paying them back with your own diligent hard work. Is that clear?"

My hubby nodded. I looked close, and I saw there were tears in his eyes, and a strained, almost twisted smile on his face. I knew what it meant. My poor dear, he seemed to have heard George tell him that he could go straight to heaven if he wanted, and he was ashamed to say that that's just what he wanted!

"Now, how much time do you need to make up your minds about these recommendations of mine. I can only give you the weekend, at the most."

This time I spoke up first. "I'll go on call for you, starting next Monday, and I want my hubby to attend your training school, also starting next Monday. If I'm going to be travelling without him, and he won't be allowed home while he's being trained, it's just as well that we're both doing these different things at

the same time. The only condition I set is that we both finish and are back in our own little home with each other at the same time, say after twelve weeks from next Monday."

Now George nodded. "That will be arranged," he said.

And that was that! For about three months I went where George told me from time to time, wearing different kinds of clothing George had for me, a cowgirl, or a judge, or a Victorian schoolmarm with a whip to enforce discipline. Lots of things. It got to be kind of fun, and I learned a lot about people. And meanwhile I kept up my beauty parlor, and managed to keep most of my appointments. A few times I flew to other cities with George, and a few times George and I and some other people would do some group sex, as they called it, with each other. But that's all another story.

The main thing is, my sweet darling went off in a car they sent for him that Monday. He looked back at me out the rear window until the car rounded a corner,

so brave and sad, looking like a little boy who's so proud that he's going away to school, but also like a little boy who's afraid of what's going to happen there. I waved at him, and I tried not to cry, but as soon as he rounded the corner I couldn't help it.

And I didn't see him again for the whole twelve weeks. Even though George kept me plenty busy, and my shop too, I missed him.

I should say, except once. I did see my darling one afternoon about three weeks later, all unexpectedly. Who should come into the shop that afternoon but George's ex-wife, wearing those thigh high boots of hers and heavy makeup, like that time she stayed out all night. Only now it's getting late in the day, and she's got this teenaged girl with her, or that's what I thought she was. Sort of thin, and slumped over, hair hanging down from her head, you know, wearing real tight cutoff jeans without much of a figure, half-dragged into the shop.

"Janet," says George's ex, "This is Muffin. I think you know her. She calls me her 'Lady' so it would help her if you just called me 'Lady' for now."

So I look again. Muffin has her face turned away from me, and her shoulders are hunched way forward, a terrible posture, you know how young girls can be. But I can tell right away this is not a young girl.

"Sweetie!" I cry out. It's my darling hubby! He looks at me a little embarrassed, and sort of smiles at me a little, and he looks up at Lady, and he doesn't say anything. "Sweetie, how have you been?"

"Muffin is fine," Lady answers, "But she's been instructed not to say anything except to me, for now. She's only three weeks into our twelve week accelerated course, and she still needs the discipline. She's very happy. Aren't you, Muffin?"

"Yes, Lady," my hubby answers her. I guess it's true. It must be he's a little ashamed for me to see he's wearing a chiffon blouse, and the cutest little lace bra under it, because he keeps turning his shoulders away from me. But even so, I can tell he's even got something inside the bra! And he keeps looking up at Lady, and never takes his eyes off her.

"And whose Lady am I? We'll try again. Are you a happy girl, Muffin?," Lady asks.

"Yes, my Lady," my hubby answers her.

He's so embarrassed. My sweet dear! But I can tell it's true. He is satisfied with the way things are going, whatever they are. I'm so glad for him!

"Janet," says Lady, acting as if my hubby weren't even there, "While we're talking, I want you to do something with Muffin's hair. Give her a hairdo that's feminine but practical, one she can take care of herself. So when she gets up off a pillow, or when her head comes up from between my legs, all she has to do is shake it and it falls back into place, mostly. Maybe a quick combing when she goes out on call, but simple. You know what I mean? Right now she looks a little like a wet puppy, don't you Muffin?"

"Yes, my Lady," my sweet hubby answers her. He looks so dear I want to hug him. But he keeps looking up at Lady, just like a puppy who adores his Mistress. My darling, darling man!.

"I know you have questions," Lady says to me, "But they'll have to wait until Muffin has finished her training and comes back to you. Then you two can talk all you want for as long as you want, and it'll be none of my concern. So just start in on her hairdo now, and listen closely, because I have something very important to ask you. That's really why I'm here."

I point at a chair, and Muffin climbs onto it, then sits with her hands folded in her lap very sweetly, and waits for me to cover her shoulders with a sheet. I mean, my dear hubby climbs into the chair. But I'm thinking about him already as Muffin, you know what I mean?, because I'm thinking about the right kind of haircut for his head so he'll look really nice, feminine, really look like Muffin, even when his Lady has squashed his hairdo a little. A close cloche with

short bangs brushed to one side and wisps in front of each ear will be just darling, I decide. An Audrey Hepburn look. Then that sort of pleased, embarrassed smile he's got will look very sweet, maybe kittenish, and a little mysterious. There we are, honey, that's the last of these teeny rollers. They're

not too tight? I'm sorry it took so long. Now back under the drier to set the curls real tight, and then I'll brush them out for you, and put on your face, and you'll see that we've made all the right decisions.

Anyhow, Lady says suddenly, "Muffin, circle your arms for us, please, will you dear?"

Muffin immediately lifts her hands and curves her arms, and links her thumbs and

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Ma/Fa / Ma/Ma / TransGender /