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Evolution/20
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
Evolution / 20
"You still need to 'solo'," Dara said, spontaneously, as the two women
drove home.
Susan sounded disappointed. "But you said..."
"I know. And I _don't_ want to let you go. And, you know what? I'm not
going to."
Susan safely assumed that there were conditions here. "However?"
"However, I'd be depriving you of some pretty powerful experiences. Face
it, Susan, you haven't had to handle yourself since, well, I first met
you. We've been your whole life."
"But I like that," said Susan, who flashed back to the kidnapping, and
the terrible loss of control she felt then. Now, it seemed, Dara wanted
to set her caged animal free, and it didn't want to leave.
"But I don't! And it won't be good for you. You've needed me to teach
you things about yourself, and you still do. But my purpose is to see
that you become as much of a woman-- an adult, independent woman, capable
of taking care of herself... as you can. You haven't had the freedom and
independence that even the ordinary teenage girl enjoys. How many of
them have a friend there all the time to help them dress, do their hair,
and handle their 'feminine protection'?"
"But, this is different..." Susan complained.
"I know. I'm teaching you everything an adult woman would know in weeks
instead of years. But you have an advantage, of course. You already
have twenty-five years of experience..."
"Not in this body," Susan argued.
"Oh, and what a body..." Dara mumbled. "Susan, what I'm trying to say
is... You've done very well in your job of... adapting... to what's
happened to you. You're a woman, right? You feel like one all the way
through, right?"
It was strange for a moment; Susan wasn't sure if she needed to explain
that she didn't feel tremendously different. She felt, well, like
herself. And, yes, she was a woman. Fine. "Yes, I feel like a woman.
Thanks to you."
"Good. Now you need to take the next step. You need to be your _own_
woman. Then, you can be mine. And I'll be yours. Otherwise we're on
unequal footing."
"But I don't get it. What does it take to be my own--"
Dara interrupted, slightly frustrated by the difficulty of communicating
the whole concept. "Susan, look. You _are_ a woman. You know
everything that all other women do. You've graduated. There are many,
many women out there no more adept at... life... than you are. Now it's
time to go beyond the ordinary, the lowest common deminator. You need to
be able to socialize, to flirt, to... pick someone up if you wanted to...
to handle yourself when, quite inevitably I'm afraid, someone else tries
to pick _you_ up. You need to learn how to dance! How to enjoy being
yourself! When you first became female, you could barely crawl. You
couldn't even pee on your own. I've tought you to walk, now you're
running. I want to see you _fly_, Susan. As high as I can. Then we'll
be equals in more than just our looks."
"How can I do that without you, though? I've never danced in a male
body. Nobody ever tought me. I always thought of myself as very
clumsy!"
"You don't have to do it without me. I'll be there, because I want to
see it when it happens. And I had help learning to dance... to fly...
Of course. But when you can do it on your own, you're there. I have to
admit it's kind of selfish of me; I know I'm making you into what I want,
someone who's played the same games that I have; and has done, and can
do, the same things. But I get the feeling it's the last chance I've
got... you're becoming so... irresistable, Susan, that if I didn't let
you go-- even temporarily-- when I could, I'd never let you go at all."
Susan understood, but was nearly in tears. "Does this mean you can't
stay with me? What will you do?"
"We'll see. You don't realize how hard this is, I think. I'm not
looking forward to the event, but to what you'll be after it happens.
Sure, I'll stay with you, but not all the time; every night. I can't get
in the way when you are ready to have someone... else... in your bed."
Susan raised her voice. "Is that what this is about? Is that my
challenge? I need to sleep with someone else to prove myself to you?
Isn't that kind of backwards?"
"Susan, listen..."
Susan was quite upset. "Well if that's all you want, I'll just pick
someone up tonight, take a roll in the hay, and be done with it! What
proof do you want... underwear? Semen sample? Or, perhaps, someone's
panties?"
Dara sighed. "Oh no... I didn't..."
"Karen told me you were 'wild', but I certainly didn't think--"
The car pulled into the parking lot at Susan's apartment.
"Look, Susan, I told you this was selfish. And do you want to know
what's on my mind? Besides making you a successful, independent person,
which I want as my partner, and a mature, social animal which I also want
as my partner... There's an even more selfish desire. Look, in your
entire life as a man you had sex with one female... Karen. In your
entire life as a female, you've had _me_. And Mark, sort of. You've
never done it on your own! In my life as a female, I've made it with
several women besides you, and more guys than I can count. Well, almost.
Now, if we do take each other on as partners, and I become entirely
faithful to you, and vice versa, how will I feel knowing that it was me,
who was merely supposed to teach you those experiences, cut those
experiences short? I need you to do this so I don't feel guilty."
Susan was sniffling, and holding back some tears.
Dara looked at her. "I have to do this. So you do. You've become much
more than just a friend and sexual attraction to me, Susan, and it scares
me. You know what they say about letting go..."
"And coming back," said Susan.
"I hope you'll understand," said Dara, whose eyes were also getting
moist.
"I'll try," was all that Susan could say.
Even if she knew she'd be back, the sensation that she was soon to be
thrust from the nest was very strong for Susan. She spent most of the
next day at home, sorting out some very old mail, paying bills, and
writing a few letters to friends and relatives who still didn't have a
clue as to what had happened to George. She had some strong menstrual
cramps that day, and her flow was obviously increasing towards its peak.
This was the first thing that Dara let her handle by herself, although
she gave a few pointers during the day on keeping the cramps under
control as best she could.
"Uck," Susan said. "I don't know how women have done this every month,"
she said. "My panties are sticky."
Dara, who was leaning on the couch and reading a book, didn't look up.
"Women didn't have a choice. We have menstrual extraction now, which is
pretty neat. But you need to experience this, once. Just think; every
woman in the world has done it. Now you're one of them. A small price
to pay for having a uterus."
Susan got up and sat on the toilet for a few minutes. She contemplated
her body again, and what it was now doing to her. Here was this opening
between her legs, where before there had been none, which insisted on
discharging this fluid day and night, as if to punish her somehow. The
center of her sexuality seemed to be doing its best to torture her. It
was probably one of the most "different" experiences she had felt so far.
She got up and went back to her desk, to continue balancing the
checkbook.
"You may not believe this, but you actually kind of miss it when it
doesn't happen for this long," Dara said.
Susan shook her head, trying her best to understand that sentiment.
Dara continued reading. "When it's happened to you all your life. And,
of course, when it doesn't happen and you _are_ expecting it, it's
panicville."
"You mean you thought you might be pregnant?"
"When you're as sexually active as... well... I was, it sure does worry
me. Turns out I was just a week late or so. It happens all the time--
so many things can throw off your cycle. It's one thing you won't
experience-- unfortunately, almost."
"Being worried about being pregnant?" Susan asked.
"No, no... having a 'cycle'. Not being able to control it. Of that
feeling of looking on the calendar and realizing 'here it comes'."
"Well, I suppose. But if I'm to ovulate, I know that this happens in
about two weeks."
"I guess."
"So doesn't it happen at a bad time? What do you do?"
"If it was really bad, sometimes, I'd do like you're doing. Little
errands, cleaning. But, usually, you don't let it interfere with you at
all. One of the great secrets that a woman keeps from the world-- well,
from men at least-- is that she's having her period. But, with a little
practice, and after you learn to feel it and don't get paranoid about
accidents anymore, it really is no problem. That reminds me... I should
get you fitted for a diaphragm."
"Diaphragm? Why?" Susan asked.
"Can't very well have sex with a tampon inside you, you know."
"You can have sex while this is going on?" Susan asked. "With a man?
Who would want to..."
"Sure. We don't let men get away with telling _us_ that we're 'unclean'
anymore. Besides, when a guy's about to get laid, do you think a
little thing like this will turn him off?"
"Yes," said Susan.
"You mean you never had sex with Karen during her period?"
"Well..." Susan said. "I... guess so. Once. No, twice."
"And did it bother you?"
"Well... No. I kind of thought it was neat that she was sharing that
secret with me."
"Exactly," said Dara. "And if it doesn't bother them, it won't bother
you. Sure, there's a few squeamish guys out there. But usually they're
just not my type. There's been more than enough times that I've started
my period while I had a lover inside me, or been sleeping on top of him
and left a puddle on him in the morning."
"Oh my..." said Susan.
"That's what I thought. I was so embarrassed I could have cried. But
you know what? They thought it was the neatest thing in the world."
"That's a surprise," Susan said.
"Don't I know it. So now, it doesn't bother me anymore. And it
shouldn't bother you."
The two women stayed home that day, but Dara insisted on going out the
next day, even though Susan's period was still at or near its peak.
Going for another workout tested the peak of Susan's paranoia about her
period; after all, here she was in tight-fitting, albeit dark-colored,
exercise tights, and spread out on leg machines that practically
exhibited her crotch to the world. However, everything worked out fine.
Next stop, and again, clothes shopping was on the list.
"But what do I need now?" Susan asked.
"I'm taking you dancing tomorrow night. You could wear my stuff, but I
want to get you something different."
"Dancing? But Dara, I don't... and I'm still..."
"I'm going to teach you to dance, and what did I tell you about your
period?"
"I won't let it get in the way. Okay, okay, it's not as bad as I
thought."
"Exactly. If you're as careful as you are now, you'll never have a
problem with it."
Dara picked out several outfits for Susan, and let her pick out one of
her own. Susan, who elected to be more daring than usual, found a black,
fairly tight top and some long, tight, white designer jeans that were
accentuated by black stitching. Susan thought them daring because of the
fit, and the zippered legs that really made the jeans snap to her shape.
"Nice choice. Those are really getting to be in style again. Let's get
you some footwear to go with it."
A couple of minutes later, Susan could be found in the shoe department,
and a young salesman was sliding long, shiny black leather boots onto
Susan's feet.
"Boots?" Susan whispered to Karen. "I figured on sneakers..."
"Trust me," Dara said. "I have an outfit like this. Or, I did, until my
jeans wore out."
Susan turned to catch the salesman's eyes following her leg up to her
crotch. Embarassed, he turned red and looked away. A sudden feeling of
power came over Susan, and she smiled wickedly; the salesman quickly
zippered the boots and excused himself momentarily.
"If I was a man, I might like this job too," Dara whispered. "Well, take
a look at yourself."
Susan suddenly understood why the boots worked so well here. They
matched her top, and sandwiched the light jeans, drawing yet more
attention to the shape of Susan's hips and legs. Even Susan could feel
that the effect was powerfully sexy and defiant.
"I see what you mean," Susan said. "The strange thing is, I like it!"
"Good. You're developing a taste for what looks right on you."
Susan and Dara turned from the mirror to again catch the salesman, who
was turning red again, both staring at them and listening. The
salesman's excitement derived from being this close to the formation of a
particularly seductive look-- two incredible women scheming, it appeared,
to make themselves even _more_ attractive.
"We'll take these," Dara said. The salesman, now at a total loss for
words, removed the boots and boxed them. "Thank you," was all he managed
to say.
Susan looked down at him, from her seated pose in the chair, as he handed
her the box. Suddenly, a very sexy voice came from her; "No... thank
_you_", she said, and unleashed a powerful smile.
On their way to the ladies' dressing room, out of earshot of the footwear
salesman, Dara couldn't help herself. "Very daring of you! I'm
impressed!"
"Just testing," said Susan, smiling from ear to ear. Just before
entering the dressing room, both women turned around to steal a glance at
the footwear department. Again, the salesman was caught; he was huddling
with his coworkers, and visibly pointing in the women's direction.
"Alas, too immature," Dara said.
"I know. Pity," replied Susan, as the women disappeared into the dressing
room.
"You know, of course, if you try that with some guy and he calls you on
it... You might just meet your match."
"I already have... but _she_ wants me to be able to flirt," Susan said,
coyly.
"You could end up with your hands full."
"Or something... else... full, if I'm lucky."
"If I didn't know better, I'd think _I_ tought you that," Dara said, and
then giggled. "Maybe you're learning too much."
Noise in the next booth indicated, to their surprise, that the dressing
room wasn't empty. An older woman, apparently embarassed by the
conversation she was hearing, bustled herself out of the dressing area.
"Oops," Susan giggled.
Back outside the dressing room, and now in her own clothes, Dara showed
Susan some of the outfits she had picked out. "I know your size-- Heck,
I _am_ your size, so you don't have to try these on. But I'll show you
something. This outfit--" Dara held up a polka-dotted dress which ended
in a very short skirt-- "comes in two forms." Dara walked over to one of
the racks, and pulled out a similar outfit to demonstrate. "This one is
split-- you notice it's not really a 'skirt'?"
"It has legs," Susan observed.
"Sort of. When you have it on, you can't tell that it's not a skirt,
though." Dara held the dress up. "See?"
Susan nodded.
"This way, no matter which way you twirl or move, nobody can see
underneath."
"I've noticed that before."
"Right. But I've always thought it a tease. Heck, that's what short
skirts are about. The tease. It fluffs around, and you'll catch people
trying to get a glimpse of what you've got under there," Dara explained.
"So this other style cheats, so to speak. I don't like it. So I got the
regular, skirted version for you. Okay?"
"I suppose..."
"It's not like anybody can see anything under here anyway-- as you'll
see... there are black panties that go underneath it."
"Okay," Susan said. "Go for it."
"That's my girl," Dara answered.
Before checking out, Dara also picked up two pocketbooks for Susan,
explaining that, of course, even the outfits she had with pockets--
especially the jeans-- generally didn't intend for the wearer to actually
use them. Pockets in some skirts were okay, of course. Susan understood
and needed no further explanation.
[continued]
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