My Odyssey Part 8: Betty's Story by As narrated

(story continues from My Odyssey Part 7: Nurse Betty by As narrated)

My Odyssey

As narrated by Anne-Marie Killamajiian,
Wife of Ahmed, of the House of Mustaffa, the Diamond Merchant

Warning: This story involves bondage, consensual sex, domination, coercion, sex changes, sexual slavery, rape, and other jiggery-pokery. It is entirely fictional, and is intended as entertainment for adults only. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, or to any location or activity is purely coincidental. Names have been changed to protect the innocent. (As if anybody ever is!)

Note: If you would like to contact the authoress to make a comment, you may contact Anne through Tony-B who originally published it as "My Story". She hopes you enjoy reading her story. Tony would also appreciate your comments. We will endeavor to answer all emails.

RECAP: In Part 7. Anne learned what had taken place while she had been ‘asleep’, and met her new companion Betty.

 

Part 8: Betty's Story

Miss Sims arrives, and I expected the diet from Hell …

Miss Sims entered the room, carrying a blue file folder containing a bunch of papers.

“Ah”, the Doctor said, “Miss Sims is here with your diet. I’ll leave you two to it, and be back in a while.” …

“Good morning, dear”, she said, condescendingly.

I didn’t know what was bugging her – maybe it was because my pussy was nicer than hers I said to myself! Or maybe it’s just her way of asserting her authority over me! I didn’t think we were going to be very good friends.

“I’ve gone over your food preference list, dear,” she said, “and you can continue to eat most of the foods on your list. There are a couple which are definite No-No’s, and in a few weeks, you’ll find that you won’t like them any more. The result of your programming, of course. Most people eat more than they should anyway, with the resulting excess being stored in the body as ‘fat’. The fat builds up, and pretty soon, you’ve lost your figure, and your attitude goes to hell, and you slip into a never-ending spiral toward obesity. We’ll be using sleep learning techniques and positive reinforcement to get you on the right track to a healthy attitude, and keep you there.”

“First, you only need to eat about half of what you’ve been eating before. If you properly follow your diet, you won’t ever feel hungry, and can adapt your eating habits to your lifestyle. Instead of ‘living to eat’, you’ll be eating to live. Men are such pigs,” she said, “… but that’s their conditioning. They are constantly told to clean their plates as they are growing up, by well-meaning mothers who consider an empty plate ‘healthy’. It’s not!”

“And it’s always better to put the extra food – and calories – in the trash, rather than around your waist!”

She went over the long list of the food preferences, describing appropriate portion sizes.

“The object,” she said, “… is never to feel hungry, but to get all the nutrition you need.”

“Avoid coffee, especially with cream! A better choice is a hot Green or Black tea, unsweetened, of course, or you can use a non-caloric sweetener. You may drink milk every day, but no more than 16 ounces, daily. Also, avoid carbonated beverages, like soda pop and beer. If you like alcohol, avoid hard liquors, and drink only wines – no more than two glasses a day.”

“Where can I get some 50-ounce glasses?”, I joked. She smiled, but ignored the question.

“If you think you feel hungry between meals,” she said, “ have a small snack. Five or six crackers, or half a piece of fruit like an apple, orange, pear, or banana. It’s better for you to have a small snack now and then, than to have a whole piece of cake or pie. Donuts and sweet rolls like coffee cake are no-no’s.”

“Avoid TV Dinners and packaged foods. Prepare your meals from ‘scratch’. Steam your vegetables to preserve flavor and nutritional values. Baked potatoes and Yams are always a good choice. Salads, of course, light on the creamy dressings, but vinegar and oil is okay.”

“Go light on seasonings, especially salt. You can use ‘No Salt Salt’, which is a non-sodium type of chloride, or substitute a ‘Lemon-Pepper’ product to replace salt completely.”

“Avoid granulated white sugar. Prefer natural ‘raw’ sugar.”

“Soups are always a good choice – low calorie types such as French Onion, or Leek are fine. You can have two pieces of toast with soup”, she said. “French or Sourdough Bread is recommended, or a dozen crackers…”

I wondered if toast made out of French Bread would be considered ‘French Toast’.

She continued… “Avoid White bread. Half a sandwich on Sourdough or Rye is acceptable – you can save the other half for another meal if you wish.”

“Your weight is good right now. You lost 23 pounds while you were sleeping. That’s great – a pound a day. An average loss of 3500 calories each day. We kept you nourished while you were sleeping through a tube down your throat. You never felt hunger, and the pounds just slipped away. We want to keep that progress working until you reach your target weight of 120 pounds, and you’ve got about 20 pounds more to go. In ten months, that averages out to only two pounds a month, so it will come off easily from diet and exercise. You’ll be able to eat regular foods again, in the smaller portions recommended.”

“Any questions?”, she asked.

“Only about a thousand or so”, I smiled, “… but I can’t think of any of them, right now, except one. I know my tits are growing, and all, but they seem to itch all the time. Can anything be done about that?”

She smiled at me… “Men say ‘tits’, dear. Girls say ‘titties’, and women say ‘breasts’.” She corrected me. Most importantly, by correcting me, she had included me in that ‘girls’ category. “No, dear. That’s just normal growing pains. You can rub or scratch them when they itch – that sometimes helps the itching go away. Other than that, try to put it out of your mind. I’ll speak to the doctor, and see if we can do anything about the itching during your sleep learning sessions.”

“Remember, I’m always here to help you and answer questions. Day or night. Just give me a call whenever you have a question. Just pick up the telephone and dial ‘63’.” With that, she put her papers back in the blue folder and left the room.

Discovery …

I was alone. With a lot to think about … and a lot to discover. I reached for the hand mirror and looked at my face again. I really studied it, trying to get used to the way I looked now. The doctor had done a marvelous job of erasing the old me, and giving me a whole new face, and outlook. He changed my attitude about myself, as he said he would, and it was really coming true. No one would ever suspect that I had once been a man. A man … I wanted to look at my new equipment down there, too.

I pushed the sheet aside, and held the hand mirror so I could see what I looked like between my legs. Perfect. And beautiful! A nice slit, from the cleft in front of my pubic bone, between the legs, and up through the ass cheeks. It looked beautiful! No trace of the surgery, swelling, or any marks that would give away the fact that it was a man-made vagina. With my free hand, I touched it. I slid my fingers along the length of it, from the front, all the way back to my rectum. I could feel the pressure of my fingers, but there was no pain, and no hint of any scar tissue.

Gingerly, I spread the outer labia to see the actual vagina. It was there, too. Smooth, and pretty, and pink. Just waiting for use, I thought. A little bump above the vaginal opening showed the limits of the inner labia, and I knew that would be the clitoris. It should be tender – or sensitive to the touch. I placed a finger on it, and pressed lightly. It was! An involuntary muscle spasm occurred as I touched it through the skin flap of the clitoral hood. I knew it must be really sensitive to actual contact when the hood was stretched aside. God – I realized that I was really horny, and would probably jump any man who came in right then. But then, the doctor had warned me about that, and what to expect. And I remember my mother telling me to be very selective in the men that I allowed to touch me down there – or use me for their pleasure. A funny turn of a phrase, I thought.

Betty opened the door, and caught me looking at my marvelous new parts. She quickly grasped the situation, and said, “Don’t be alarmed, honey. It’s only me, and I already know what you look like. That’s your pussy, and you can use it, or play with it as much as you like. It’s not polite to do it in front of other people, of course, but we’re more than friends, so don’t think anything about it. In fact, since you are ready to explore, I’ll be giving you a few pointers.”

And she did. We took about an hour right then. She locked the door for privacy, and we explored my new parts extensively. She showed me what’s where, along with their proper names. She showed me how to masturbate, how to achieve an orgasm, and what it felt like to really be turned on.

“Tomorrow, I’ll bring you some new toys to play with”, she said with a conspiratorial twinkle in her eye.

I learned that part of my healing process had been the insertion of a rubber penis, called a ‘dildo’, into my new vagina, in order to keep the pubbococcygeous muscle from closing up, and that I had worn it most of the three weeks while I was ‘sleeping’. I learned that it had been rotated every few hours, so as not to stick to any of the sutures inside my vagina while it was healing. She also told me that it would be inserted in my vagina nightly while I slept, to keep the proper shape and opening, until I no longer needed it. Once I became sexually active, I would no longer need it as long as I participated in intercourse three or four times a week.

“You’re lucky to have Henry as your orderly”, she said. “He’ll probably be the first man to initiate you into womanly sex. It’ll be up to Doctor exactly when, but you’ll know, and so will Henry. He’s well built, and will take you carefully. And I speak from experience. He and I date a couple times a month.”

“I remember fooling around with boys in school, but I never had a real sexual experience”, I said. “So I’m looking forward to my initiation.”

Girl talk – Betty’s Story …

Betty told me of things she remembered from when she was a child. … She was a good story-teller, and I didn’t grow tired of listening to her stories.

“I always wanted to be a girl”, she said. … “When I was a little boy, I told my mother I wanted some titties. She misunderstood my intent, and whipped hers out and stuck a nipple in my mouth… Nah, that didn’t really happen, but secretly, I did want to be a girl.”

“I remember an incident that happened when I was about eight years old”, she said… “I think I was in the third, or fourth grade. By that time, mother knew I had a secret wish to be a girl, and she had bought me a pair of panties at the store, so I could indulge my fetish. We didn’t know what a fetish was, back then, but she told me to be sure to hide the panties, and not let my daddy see them or he would be mad.”

“She also gave me an old skirt she had, to wear around the house when daddy wasn’t home. I used a belt to hold the skirt up, but still, it came down nearly to the floor, and I imagined that I was a gypsy girl, and this was my gypsy dress. I draped one of mommy’s scarves over my head to complete the illusion. The movie ‘Golden Earrings’ was still popular in those days, and was shown on TV frequently. I simply assumed the character of the dancing girl in that movie.”

“Anyway, I remember dancing in front of a couple of boys in my class. I whirled around and around, exposing my bare legs and panties to their view. I remember that one of them leaned over to the other and whispered something in his ear. Something complimentary I hoped.”

“I was always careful to hide my girly things before daddy came home, so he wouldn’t discover my cross-dressing. Mommy was sympathetic, and helped me to be interested in girl things, like dolls, cooking, and housecleaning. Skills that she thought I might need later on in life, regardless of how things went. She had a small collection of dolls, and we played with them in the afternoon, after I got home from school, and before daddy came home.”

“Eventually, I grew careless, and daddy found me wearing my girl panties, and he was really mad. ‘No boy of mine is going to wear panties’ he yelled, and took them away from me and threw them away. He didn’t know about the other panties I still had hidden away with mother’s old skirt. But after that, I tried to be the boy he wanted – but not so hard when he wasn’t around. I figured he would never understand having a boy-girl in his house.”

“I couldn’t wear lipstick, like girls do, but somehow I discovered that an old Scripto pencil with red lead was just as good, and easier to remove. The Scripto pencil was very popular in those days because it had a long lead, which came in several colors and black. Somehow I found out that if you used the red lead, and wet it first, you could use it just like a lipstick, and yet it could be washed off with water, leaving no trace. Daddy would have been surprised if he ever found out why I was in the bathroom so much when he got home from work. It seemed as if I was always in the bathroom, washing my face when he got home.”

“I had a very rough time as I entered puberty at 13 or 14. The girls didn’t like me because I was a boy, and the boys didn’t like me because I was too ‘girly’ I was miserable at sports, and ended up being the guy in the locker room that passed out balls at the beginning of gym period, and passed out towels at the end of it so the ‘jocks’ could take a shower.”

“It was about that time that I saw a TV show about Doctor Bulieu and the Clinic here. I wanted so much to come here and have a sex-change, but I was only 14. By the time I was sixteen, life was unbearable, so I ran away from home, and somehow managed to find my way here. I was confused at the time, and didn’t know what I was doing, I guess, ‘cause I can’t remember a lot of it myself. I do remember sucking off a few men, and getting beaten up a few times in order to survive, but thank heaven, I finally got here!”

“Sucking off?” I hadn’t heard that phrase used in a long time. Nowadays it was just referred to as a blowjob, or ‘giving head’, or ‘taking it in the face’. But “sucking off???” That’s absolutely antiquated! (I remembered that old joke, “I don’t care what it’s called, girl, you’re supposed to suck, not blow!”)

“Anyway, Doctor did the surgery for me, she continued, and I’ve been here ever since. But with some differences from you”, she said. … “Inside, I’m still a boy and know it -- it’s just that I have a complete girl’s body. I wasn’t ‘conditioned’ as many changelings are today, so I still know that I’m a boy, enjoying the life of a girl. Would I go back? Not in a million years, sister! I like it this way, and I think it’s a great privilege to be a girl. I have the best of both worlds! That’s why I may seem silly some of the time – it’s just my way of hiding the real me – the ‘me’ I don’t want others to see.”

As I got to know Betty, I found she had absolutely fascinating stories to tell. I grew to like her like a sister, more and more. One day, she remembered part of a limerick… “When I was a little boy, I had a little toy, …” And that’s all she remembered. But we talked about if for hours.

* * * *

“Tell me another story”, I said.

She smiled, pleased that I would take the time to be with her, and listen to her talk. It was easy – she was an excellent story-teller.

“I swear, this one is absolutely true”, she said. “When I was about 15, -- maybe late 14 – I was learning to drive. Back then, you could learn to drive starting at 14 with a ‘Learner’s Permit’ but you couldn’t really get the License until you were 16. Anyway, my mother had a small station wagon – I don’t remember the make, and Daddy had a gray Chrysler sedan. It had what was called a ‘Fluid Drive’. There were three pedals on the floor, the Gas, the brake, and a Clutch. You used the clutch only when you were starting or stopping, or standing still. The rest of the time you could shift gears smoothly without stepping on the clutch.”

“I was into a secret cross-dressing phase back then. I had bought a red party dress from a mail order catalog, and kept it hidden away so my daddy wouldn't know. I was allowed to drive on my own, without a parent in the car, even though I didn’t have the License yet. I occasionally borrowed Moms car, with her permission of course, and took it for a drive. Like to the grocery store, or whatever… She knew, I knew, and I drove carefully, so didn’t see any harm. … One night mom wasn’t there. I don’t remember exactly why she wasn’t there, but I felt it was an opportunity to put on my dress and go out for a drive, just to see what it felt like. I put on the dress, and got out a pair of high-heeled shoes I had gotten somewhere, and put them on. I put some lipstick on, and took mom’s car out for a spin. We lived in Glendale, California at the time. It was a small community a little bit northeast of Los Angeles, and west of Pasadena, where they have the Rose Parade every year.”

“As I was driving, I wasn’t paying attention, and was going a little too fast, I guess. Anyway, a cop stopped me for speeding. When I couldn’t produce a License, and couldn’t explain myself, he arrested me and took me to jail in a town north of Glendale, called Montrose. It’s right next to La Canada. You can look it up on a map if you don’t believe me. …”

“I was scared half to death, as they questioned me. I blurted out my whole story, and they made me lift my dress and pull down my panties to verify that I was really a boy. I was afraid they were going to put me in the cellblock with some men – in fact, they had threatened to do just that in order to make me ‘confess’. Fortunately they put me in a single cell, and called my mother to come get me. I guess she was home by that time. … I remember just sitting there in my red dress, and crying. There was nothing else I could do. I hadn’t had the foresight to put a change of clothes – my boy clothes – in the car when I left home.”

“The next morning, my mother came to get me. She made me wash the lipstick off my face before I got out of the cell, and had brought me a pair of pants and a shirt. But she didn’t know about the shoes. I only had those old high heels to wear. I must have looked ridiculous as they took me out of the cell in my boys clothes, and wearing high heels, as they turned me over to my mother.”

“She took me out to the car – I guess my father had dropped her off – I don’t know how else she might have gotten there. Although it was only about ten miles away from where we lived, it was a freeway all the way. She made me get into the car and we drove home in total silence. I was really humiliated.”

“When we got home, my daddy was really mad! He took the red dress and the shoes out to the backyard, poured gasoline on them and burned them. And he wouldn’t talk to me for about a week after that. I was so heartbroken … not about Dad, but about the loss of my red dress! I so loved that dress! And I swear that every word in this story is true!”

The story of the milk maid …

“There is a young man here, his name is Daryl. He had a titty fetish. So Doctor gave him a couple! He’s still a young man, but we sometimes refer to him as our ‘Cow’. He lives here and works as a Night Orderly. You’ll meet him. … Literally, he’s a wet nurse. But since he isn’t really a nurse, we call him our ‘Milk Maid’. We pump him twice a day, and donate the milk to the La Leche League for the benefit of young mothers who can’t produce their own milk for newborn babies. It’s a wonderful charity. And he loves doing it – or having it done to him. … I don’t know which. For some reason, some young mothers have difficulty producing milk after giving birth to boys. I think it’s the hormones as the boy is developing that throws them off… You’d be surprised to learn how many boys have been raised on another boys’ milk. – They would be, too. Anyway, he just loves being sucked dry twice a day! I’ll introduce him next time we see him. You probably haven’t seen him yet, his being on the night shift and all. But he’s tall and slender, and has long blonde hair. He wears a dress, and passes as a woman to anyone who doesn’t know or look closely. Other than the long hair, titties, and wearing a dress, he’s a fully-functional man. The genetic females here have to be sure to use birth control so he doesn’t get them pregnant. And he’s in constant demand for dates.”

“Doctor insists we always wear a dress. We aren’t allowed to wear pants or men’s shoes at any time. People with titties, are women, and he expects them to dress accordingly. The one exception is that we are allowed to wear oversized men’s shirts occasionally, with shorts.”

Toilet Training

Betty: “When you sit on the toilet, spread your legs. That will also open your labia so you will pee into the bowl, and not all over yourself! … I’m sure your mother showed you how…”

“Yes”, I said, “… but I’m not sure I can control my bladder yet.”

Betty: “That’s common, the first couple of days after a long sleep. We’ll start right now retraining the muscles that control your urine flow. That’s one reason we keep you in a diaper for the first couple of days. …”

The Kegel Exercises

“The aim of Kegel exercises is to develop muscle tone and strength, in order to control urine flow and increase sexual satisfaction”, Betty said. “Simply put, the exercise consists of regularly clenching and unclenching the pelvic floor muscles – the pubococcygeus muscles. In addition to controlling urine flow, these exercises will tighten the vagina, and give you the ability to literally ‘milk’ a man’s penis without moving your body at all during intercourse. You can sit on his lap, facing him, and bring him to orgasm just by squeezing and unsqueezing your vaginal muscles. With training, you can also bring yourself to an orgasm, any time, and any place.”

“What exactly do I do?”, I asked.

“Well, you begin by clenching your pubic muscles for five seconds, then relaxing them for five seconds. Do this five times in a row. That’s called a ‘set’, and takes less than a minute. You should do this set several times a day. As you learn how to do it, and it becomes routine, you can increase the number of sets you do at a time – that’s called ‘reps’, for repetitions. You should work up to five or ten reps at a time, once an hour or so, until you have full control over your pubic muscles, and can control urine flow as well as increasing your own sexual pleasure. You’ll also find that you can use this technique to bring a man to orgasm without ever moving your body, just keeping his penis inside you, and repping him to death”, she smiled.

“You need to keep your pussy very clean”, Betty said. “You should learn to wash it several times a day. Men who like to ‘eat pussy’, don’t like it to smell like dead fish. If you use a body oil or fragrance, it should be subtle and understated. Some men call it ‘dipping into the honey pot’, or a ‘fish taco’. Other men call it ‘muff diving’, or ‘eating a beaver sandwich”. Many men refer to the vagina as a twat, snatch, gash, vulva, slit, box, cooter, snapper, cooch, poontang, love box, poon, bearded taco, crack, finger hut, nookie, bear trap, cooze, pussy, or just plain cunt! There’s a really good tape, if you can find it, called the Vagina Monologues, where a woman talks about all the names men have for vaginas. – Strangely, they never call it a vagina, like they should.”

“Betty,” I said, “… you rattle those off like you had them memorized.”

“A lot of men like to talk dirty while they’re having sex, and I just remember them, that’s all.”, she said.

“All of them sound gross and disgusting”, I said. “Why are men so … you know, so vulgar?”

“I don’t know, honey. Probably because they don’t respect us. -- It’s probably biological. Because men can use us for their own pleasure, they don’t respect us. Personally, I won’t date a man who doesn’t respect me!”

Her off-handed statement made a great impact on me, and in my future life!

She continued…. “I once saw a picture of a woman who had the word ‘RESPECT’ tattooed across her abdomen, so they couldn’t miss it. I don’t know if it did any good, though. She claimed it was a subliminal command to men, and that it worked.”

“While we’re being so frank, Betty, why do you always call him ‘Doctor’ – never ‘THE Doctor’ or ‘Doctor Bulieu’, just ‘Doctor’? It’s always, ’Doctor wants this, or Doctor wants that.”

“I don’t know”, she said. “... I never thought about it much. I guess it’s a sign of respect. And probably appreciation. I was pretty messed up when I finally got here. In a sense, he rescued me from that life, and introduced me to this one. In addition to my surgery, which he never charged for, he helped me finish my education, got me trained as a nurse, and gave me a lifetime job, here in the Clinic. I don’t think anybody could have done more for me than he did, and in a way, I love him for it.… ”

“Well, maybe one thing – I sometimes wonder what it would be like to fully be a female, like you are, with the conditioning and all. I didn’t get that. Not that I’m complaining, of course, I like what I am – of who I am. But sometimes I think, ‘It could have been even better’. I guess I’m just a gay boy, in a dress, although I prefer to think of myself as trans-gendered.”

She turned away, and I thought I might have detected a tear in her voice. …

Next week, building friendships and The Company Store … Anne learns about Shopping, and never having to pay the bill. …..

29.03.08

story continues in My Odyssey Part 9: My Second Day by As narrated

o0o