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Turning Summer Ch. 1

By: monika ikon



I remember holding up that first tiny pair of swim trunks in disbelief. 

"You want me to wear this?" I said. "Outside?"

"Of course silly," Kathy said. "Don't you just love it?"

The bathing suit consisted of two tiny triangles of white nylon that hardly looked big enough to cover what by law had to be covered. I was used to my oversized blue boxer-style swim trunks. The little garment dangling from my fingers seemed like some kind of practical joke.

"Kath, its...ummm...so small."

"You don't like it," Kathy said, looking hurt.

She was wearing her own skimpy little red bikini, her athletic brown body filling it out in all the right places. Summer was still two months away and we didn't usually open the pool until Memorial Day, but, as Kathy said, bikini season was right around the corner. It was time we got ready. I looked again at the little white bathing suit and then back at her. We? Kathy had apparently bought the bathing suit at the mall the day before and thought to surprise me with it. Now with my callousness I had gone and hurt her feelings. I tried to put express my misgivings as gently as possible.

"Kathy, it's not that I don't like it, I just don't think it's...well...me..."

"Honey, you can at least try it on. For me."

I didn't know exactly what to say. Kathy and I had been married for seven years and I'd like to think we were every bit as much in love as when she first said "I do." Still, a certain degree of staleness creeps into every long-term relationship. It's inevitable, I guess. Lately, it seemed that Kathy was trying to do little things to spice up our sex lives. I guess she figured seeing me strut around like some kind of latin gigolo in a little white speedo might help. I should be flattered, I thought, and touched that Kathy thought enough about our marriage to go to the trouble.

"Okay," I said, looking uncertainly at the bathing suit. "I'll give it a try."

"Thanks sweetie," Kathy looked happy, which, after all, was the whole reason for me agreeing to try the swimsuit on in the first place. She stepped forward and gave me a kiss and a little pat on the backside. "Now scoot off and change. I can't wait to see how cute you're going to look."

I forced myself to smile. I would try the swimsuit on to avoid hurting her feelings, but there was no way I was ever going to wear it outside—or anywhere! 

I went into the bathroom, stared at my face the mirror for a few seconds, and shook my head. 

"How do you get yourself into these situations," I said to my reflection. 

Then I changed. 

Until I put it on for the first time, I had no idea just how exposing the bathing suit was. I had to carefully arrange my genitals inside the front panel just so that my testicles wouldn't show. Meanwhile, no matter how many times I tugged on the bottoms they just didn't seem to properly cover my butt. I don't know how long I was in the bathroom changing but I was eventually interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Johnny, are you ready yet? Let's take a look."

Reluctantly, I opened the door and stepped out of the bathroom. I stood there in the tiny bathing suit feeling totally exposed and humiliated. I couldn't even look Kathy in the eyes. Instead, I stared at the floor between my naked feet.

Kathy clapped her hands. "Oh honey, you look just scrumptious. Turn around and let me see how your buns look."

I dared a glance up. 

"Kathy, this is just terrible."

My wife tilted her head, smiling, still fussing at the pouch of my new swimsuit. 

"What do you mean?"

"I look so fat in this thing," I blurted out.

"Where?" Kathy said, as if I were just being silly.

I felt miserably self-conscious. "Here," I said, patting my belly. "And here." I grabbed the little love handles that had grown just above my hips. In my regular swim trunks they were virtually unnoticeable, but in the tiny briefs I now wore it seemed every flaw in my body was magnified a hundred times.

To my surprise, Kathy took my concerns seriously. "Well I think you look just fine. But if you're concerned about the little extra tummy, we can start you on a diet tonight and you can begin using my ab roller." 

I remember making fun of the exercise device when she first got it as just another gimmick. There is no substitute for old-fashioned crunches, I'd said. But I hated doing crunches, as evidenced by my widening belly, and besides, they weren't very good for my back. I was desperate to try anything that might work.

"Do you really think that will help?" 

Kathy patted her own perfectly flat toned stomach. "It's done wonders for me."

I looked down at my body, turning a little from side to side. "Okay," I said. "I'm willing to try."

That evening I had a small dish of cottage cheese and some melon for dinner. Afterwards, we retired to the television room and Kathy put a DVD of The English Patient into the VCR. 

"Can't we watch something else," I moaned.

Kathy pointed to the ab roller in front of the television. "You're here to exercise, not watch tv."

I lay down on the floor, positioned my head on the little rest, lifted my arms and began exercise. I was still wearing the tiny white swimsuit, as motivation I suppose. I had never really watched The English Patient. I had just seen bits and pieces when Kathy watched it and I had come into the room for one reason or another. It was a really nice movie, very sad, very romantic. More than a few times I found myself trying to surreptitiously wipe away the tears running down my face.

"It's okay Johnny," Kathy said, smiling, her own eyes overflowing. "You're supposed to cry."

All that week I got used to my new diet and exercise routine. After dinner, I'd change into the skimpy white bathing suit and work out on the ab roller while Kathy watched some chick flick. Only a couple of times after that first night did I ask if we might turn on something else, for a change, like maybe the ballgame. I already knew what her answer would be and I think I only asked out of some misguided sense of what, as a guy, I should be watching. The truth was that I actually enjoyed the presentation of emotions, relationships, gossip, advice, and humor that largely comprised the tv shows and movies that Kathy watched.

It didn't take long for me to get used to the tiny white bathing suit. I wore it all the time around the house. Yes, I even started referring to it as a bikini. The first time Kathy called it a bikini I kind of balked, but she just laughed and pointed out that the underwear that I'd been wearing exclusively for about a year now at her suggestion were called "bikini briefs." She had me retrieve a package from my dresser. Sure enough, Kathy was right. They were called bikini briefs. Well, I shrugged my shoulders, I guess I was wearing a bikini, after all. What was the big deal? I also found that I was no longer quite so self-conscious about being half-naked. I suppose that Kathy's encouragement helped. She was constantly telling me how cute I looked and how she thought my diet and exercise regime was already showing results. 

"Really," I'd say, doubtfully, but still hopeful, putting a hand on my tummy and looking down my along my leg. "Do you think so?"

Not long after Kathy suggested that I remove all my body hair. I looked at her like she was crazy. 

"Just think how much better you will look in your bikini," she argued.

Of course, my first thought was that she was certainly going too far this time. On the other hand, however, I couldn't help but see her point. My legs would definitely look better if they were tanned and smooth like hers, but...

I think Kathy could see my hesitation. She pointed out that professional swimmers and cyclists and male bodybuilders had their bodies waxed to aid performance and make themselves more aesthetically pleasing. And if those beefcake guys could do it, why couldn't I? It was true that I was no professional swimmer or cyclists. And I was certainly no bodybuilder. In fact, two years ago Kathy had gotten me to stop working out with weights at all, convincing me that walking was a far better all around exercise and one that we could share together. Still, if macho guys like bodybuilders could wax their bodies smooth to look better and no one said anything then I guess it had to be okay.

Still pink and stinging from the salon where Kathy took me to get waxed, we drove to the mall afterwards for lunch. While Kathy devoured a mouthwatering deluxe cheeseburger platter complete with fries, I munched a small salad and sipped a banana smoothie. All the while, as I ate my diet meal, I tried to tried to keep in mind that the sacrifice would be worth it come summer. We finished lunch and took a stroll around the mall, window-shopping. I always hated shopping. I was the kind of guy that would go right to the store I wanted, buy whatever it was I needed, and be on my way home in ten minutes. But now I found myself leisurely stopping to look at this or that, chatting away happily with Kathy the whole time. 

"Hey, look at this," Kathy said. 

I walked up beside Kathy. She was standing in front of the window of a swimwear store called California Dreaming. 

"I like that one," she said, pointing out a little turquoise mesh bikini.

I imagined my beautiful wife in the suit.

"Oh," I said, "you would look so sexy in that."

Kathy pinched me playfully on the upper arm.

"I meant for you, silly."

The store was clearly a woman's specialty boutique and the mannequins all wore very sexy colorful bikinis. 

"Kathy, you can't be serious, this is a girl's store..."

"Really Johnny," she said, looking from the mannequin wearing the tiny turquoise bikini to me and back again. "What difference does it make? A bikini is a bikini..."

We moved on to the next store and the matter was dropped. But whether she meant to or not, she'd planted a seed in my brain...

Memorial Day came and we opened the pool on schedule. As was our custom, we invited over our friends Bob and Mary Pat for dinner and a swim. My wife and Mary Pat had been friends from long before I'd met Kathy. They both worked as psychotherapists with a specialty in the field of family counseling. Mary Pat was a pretty and perky blonde who usually dressed in short skirts and sexy shoes. Today she had on a denim miniskirt, a green bikini top, and a pair of jellies. 

Bob and I were kind of pals by default. We usually talked about sports and work and cars and things like that. But the truth was that I didn't really have a lot in common with him. He was a bit rough around the edges for me. He was a construction supervisor and I was an office professional. It's not that I thought of myself as superior or anything. We just didn't have a lot of the same interests.

"That's some bathing suit you've got on there, pal," he laughed, pointing to the yellow bikini I was wearing. He took a swig of the Budweiser I had just retrieved for him and wiped his mouth. "Half your ass is hanging out."

I could feel myself blushing as I flipped the steaks on the grill. I told Kathy I was going to take a lot of ribbing from Bob. She told me not to worry about it, that everything would be okay. But now, sure enough, he'd started in on me.

"Oh leave him alone," Mary Pat said, coming unexpectedly to my rescue. "I think Johnny looks just adorable."

"Adorable?" Bob huffed.

"Yes, I think its sweet that he tries to look sexy for us girls. We like to see a little flesh, too, you know. His bikini is so much cuter than that baggy monstrosity you're wearing."

I didn't know if Kathy had spoken to Mary Pat beforehand or not, but I was extremely grateful for her defense. Kathy said nothing the whole time, but merely sipped her drink.

Bob looked annoyed. "He looks like a damn fag,"

"Bob!" Mary Pat reprimanded her husband. She apologized to Kathy and me. "What's the matter with you?"

"Oh I didn't mean anything by it," he said somewhat contritely. "But he's shaved his legs for crissakes."

"So? It's a much cleaner look. I love it, especially with the tan. I wish you'd shave your body, Bob."

"Oh Christ."

"Johnny, I think my husband is jealous of your pretty legs."
 I decided to make light of the whole encounter. "Really?" I said, smiling flirtatiously and turning a smooth leg.

Bob moaned. "If you women had your way, you'd turn the whole lot of us into a bunch of goddam sissy boys."

As Kathy, Mary Pat, and Bob ate the grilled steaks and sipped their wine or beer, I picked delicately at a small plate of rice and steamed broccoli. Because it was a special occasion, Kathy allowed me to have a non-alcoholic lite beer.

"Where's your steak?" Bob asked me. "Is that all you're eating?"

This time Kathy spoke up. "Johnny is on a strict diet. He wants to be able to fit into a petite by the end of the summer."

Bob looked confused. Mary Pat looked pleased. I wondered if Kathy had somehow explained all this to her friend beforehand. Mary Pat didn't seem at all surprised. Still I was deeply embarrassed. I blushed deeply and found myself staring intently at my steamed broccoli. 

"A petite," Mary Pat said excitedly. "How delightful. You know Bob, you could stand to lose a few pounds yourself."

I could feel Bob glaring at me from across the patio table as he dropped another lumpy spoonful of potato salad onto his paper plate. Later on, he got me over to the driveway to shoot some hoops as we usually did. He was always bigger and stronger but I usually had a decent enough outside shot to make a game of it. On that day, however, I couldn't come close to putting anything in the basket. I hadn't played in quite a while and I hardly seemed able to reach the rim. Meanwhile, I couldn't do anything to stop Bob from driving to the basket. If anything, I was a little afraid of him. He seemed to be playing a lot rougher than usual. I think he was still mad about what Mary Pat had said about the diet and the way she had complimented me. I basically just tried to stay out of his way and he easily ran up a 11-0 lead. 

"Jesus Christ," Bob complained. "Why don't you take those damn flip-flops off?"
 He was referring to the bright yellow, thick-soled flip-flops that matched my bikini. I couldn't run in them at all and I spent as much time trying to keep them from falling off my feet as I did trying to cover Bob as he drove to the basket. I looked doubtfully down at the asphalt. 

"I don't want to burn my feet," I said.

"Then put on some sneakers."

"I don't really feel like playing basketball," I finally admitted. I glanced over at the net stretched in a corner of the yard. The grass was green and cool there.

"Would you like to play some badminton?"

"Badminton!" Bob said, shaking his head in disbelief.

He ended up sitting sulkily by the side of the pool drinking another beer while I joined Kathy and Mary Pat in a leisurely game of croquet. I lost, of course.

That evening after our company was gone and we'd cleaned up, Kathy and I sat together in the tv room. We were both pretty tired and I thankful when she said I'd earned a break from my ab roller exercises for the evening. She turned on the Lifetime network and they were showing a made-for-tv-movie based on a bestselling relationship novel that Kathy had me read. I remember how the flap copy had called the novel one of the best women's novels of the year. 

"Oh goody," I said, as I settled onto the couch next to Kathy. "This was such a great book." 

Kathy did her nails and when they were dry she asked me if I liked the color. I glanced over at the creamy red polish on her fingers and toes.

"Yes, its very pretty."

"Give me your foot, Johnny."

I looked at her with alarm. "What?"

Kathy smiled. "Give me your foot."

"Kathy, you can't—"

"Oh Johnny, do you have to overreact to everything? I'm just going to put a little polish on your nails."

"But people will see."

"I'm just going to do your toes. I want to see how they look polished. No one will know unless you take your shoes off at work. Now, give me your foot, honey."

I reluctantly put my foot in her lap. 

"I don't know about this..."

"Don't be silly," Kathy said. She started applying the red polish to my toenails. "All kinds of rock stars wear nail polish, not to mention make-up. It's really not that big a deal."

I supposed she was right. And, after all, no one would have to know. I thought about going to work the next day, sitting in the focus meeting, my toenails painted inside my wing-tips. Good grief, what would Stuart and Ken and Tom think if they knew? I thought of Bob and the way he'd looked at my tiny bikini and shaved legs. What did he think of me? For a moment I found myself wondering...

"All done."

I looked up with a start.

"Huh?"

"Your toenails honey," Kathy said. "Look--"

I stared down at my feet in her lap. They looked—transformed. Somehow the polish made my feet look smaller, more delicate. 

Feminine.

"Don't your toes just look so adorable this way?"

I had to admit that my feet did look better with polish. In fact, I was having a hard time keeping my eyes off my own smooth legs and dainty-looking feet. Kathy noticed my interest. She suggested that from now I always keep my toenails polished and I didn't object. She promised to buy me a toe-ring and the next day after work I found myself wearing not only the ring but a sexy little ankle bracelet. I had to admit that I found it kind of a turn-on to see my feet decorated like this. That evening, as I did my ab roller exercises in the tv room, I felt a little thrill every time I sat up and caught sight of my pretty toes. 

Sex during that time, well, I suppose when I come to think of it, there really wasn't much of it at all. I mean, from the start, I had figured that Kathy was trying to liven up our sex lives by buying these new bathing suits for me. And then there was the diet, the exercise, and the small alterations in my appearance. I went along with it all because I thought it would help spice things up. I didn't notice that it seemed to be having just the opposite effect. I guess Kathy kept me too preoccupied with the changes she was making in me. Whatever sex life we did have was perfunctory, to the point, and seemed only in the interests of maintenance. Kathy would glance somewhat disapprovingly at the occasional unsightly bulge in the front of my tight bikini. 

"Get into position Johnny."

I would lie down on the floor, my knees tucked under me, propped up on my elbows. My wife would step behind me and I would wriggle my hips as she peeled my bikini down my shaved thighs. At first, I had balked a little at the nipple-clamps, but Kathy assured me that plenty of men experienced pleasure through having their nipples stimulated. And sure enough, she was right. In fact, the more she played with my nipples the most sensitive they became. It got so that all she had to do was put the little silver clamps on my nipples and I would become fully erect.

The dildo was another matter.

I flat-out refused to let Kathy put it inside me. I figured that enough was enough. I had gone along with everything my wife had wanted up to now, but I wasn't going to let her penetrate me with a lifelike rubber cock. I was putting my foot down. My toenails may have been painted a pretty creamy red color. But I was putting my foot down nonetheless. Kathy very patiently explained that she'd read that a man's ass was a very powerful erogenous zone. She said that the feeling of penetration could be very erotic for a man. It had nothing to do with being gay. Something, she said, about tickling the prostate gland could trigger extremely intense orgasms.

I held firm. But so did Kathy. I soon came to realize that if I didn't do what she asked I wouldn't get any sex at all. I could masturbate myself, of course, but it was so much better when my pretty wife did it for me. If I wanted her to relieve me, as well as avoid the embarrassing situation of showing through my panties, I would do as she said. Sure enough, I eventually got so horny that being penetrated in the ass did not seem like such an outrageous thing, after all. Kathy let me suck on the dildo while she put on the nipple clamps. Then she took the life-like rubber cock from my mouth and pushed it deep into my upturned ass.


Turning Summer Ch. 1



"Lift your bottom a little honey," she'd say. "That's it."

By the time the dildo was all the way inside me, I'd be dripping. Kathy was right again. She turned the cock on and I could feel it vibrating inside me. Sometimes she wouldn't even have to touch me. The vibration of the rubber dildo inside me would tickle my prostate and have me shooting my wad onto the special pink towel that Kathy had me lay on the floor beneath myself. From the time I lay down to the time I came, it would all be over in two minutes, three tops. I'd clean myself off and pull up my little bikini, which was once again nice and smooth between my shaved legs.

"You know, darling," Kathy said one day after she jerked me off. "We really should do something about that little problem of yours." 

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that little pee-pee of yours is so unruly. Don't you hate the way it ruins the line of your bikini?"

I shrugged. "Yes, I guess."

I really didn't see it as that much of a problem. Kathy, however, did. She said she had a solution. A few minutes later I was standing in the tv room, naked, while she slipped a tiny leather sleeve over my cock. Just her handling me after so long caused me to start to get hard. But Kathy worked quickly, lacing up the little sleeve, and tying it off, preventing my cock from growing any further. The urgent part over, she took her time pulling my tamed cock down and tying it around my balls. Then she had me turn around and bend over slightly while she inserted a long thin plug into my bottom. I felt my frustrated cock, trapped inside the tight confines of the leather, pulsing wildly. 

"Oh god. Does it have to be so far in?"

"Yes," Kathy said. "Otherwise, your body will naturally try to force it out."

My wife reached between my legs and yanked the little leather cock sleeve back between my thighs. I winced. She told me to keep still and I did my best not to move as she finished me off by tying the leather laces at the end of the cock-sleeve to what felt like a little loop at the base of my butt-plug. I could feel how the cock-sleeve fit snugly up and back between my legs. Kathy had me turn around and face her once again. 

"Pull up your bikini, Johnny." I did and Kathy looked at the effect the sleeve and plug had on my bikini line. "Not bad," she concluded. "What do you think?"

"It's a little uncomfortable," I said, trying to sound game.

Any hope I had that Kathy would take the contraption off me were quickly dashed. 

"You'll get used to it," she said.

But I never really did get used to what, I later learned, was a good old-fashioned male chastity device. The plug deep inside my bottom made me walk sort of up on my toes, which Kathy said accentuated my legs and ass. She told me that I looked like I had high-heels on, which I didn't quite know how to take, but Kathy seemed to think that was a good thing, so, what the heck. The leather sleeve tied between my legs served to both curtail my erections and keep me looking smooth where it counted. There were no more unsightly bulges. Unfortunately, the urge for sex didn't go away. As a result, I was often quite uncomfortable.

"There are pills," Kathy said one morning at breakfast, "that can help with that."

I knew what she was talking about.

"No," I said. I was wearing a peach-colored knit bikini bottom and matching toenail polish. I had on my ankle bracelet and toe ring. My hair, which had grown out in the last several weeks, had been bleached, just like those surfer guys, Kathy and the salon stylist at the mall had assured me. I was wearing my chastity belt. I had each of my ears pierced three times. I had a little gold ring through my navel. I was adamant. This time I was not going to be convinced. "I'm not taking hormones."

"Okay honey," Kathy said and smiled. "Don't go getting yourself all upset now. No one's going to make you do anything you don't want to do. Now finish your grapefruit. I have to drive you to the plastic surgeon for your consultation at ten."

--to be continued--



Turning Summer Ch. 2



It was the week before the 4th of July and summer had officially begun. Two months before my wife Kathy had given me my first bikini. She said she wanted to put some new life into our relationship and I wanted to do whatever I could to make her happy. My appearance had changed a lot since then but it didn't occur to me that anything was out of the ordinary. 

My wife's explanations for the changes that she wanted me to make always seemed extremely reasonable. She encouraged my new look every step of the way and was forever coming up with suggestions so that I would look even sexier. I now kept my body waxed and my toenails painted. With my bleached hair and body piercings, I felt hip like I never did before. 

I liked the shorts and belly-shirts Kathy had me wear on the weekends. At first, it did seem a little odd. But, as Kathy said, it only made sense to wear the little cropped t-shirts. I had, after all, gone through the trouble to have my naval pierced. After all, what was the point if no one was going to see it? The thick-soled flip-flip flops were fun and funky and comfortable and they showed off my feet, decorated with nail polish, toe-ring and anklet. 

Lots of the tiny shirts Kathy bought me had slogans on the front like "girls rule," or "hot stuff," or "sexy sweetheart." They were usually some color like pink or orange or lime. I liked the ones that had the hello kitty or other cute graphics on them a little better. I didn't mind the colors so much but I wondered about wearing a shirt that said "100% fox" across the front. Kathy said I was being silly and that they were just advertising slogans. 

Something else was also bothering me. Lately, I noticed that as we walked through the mall, I became increasingly aware of the heads that turned to watch us pass. I mentioned it to Kathy. 

"Get used to it hottie," my wife grinned.

"But a lot them are…guys!" 

It was true. As time went on, it was clear that more men gave me the once-over than girls.

My wife reassured me. 

"You look cool," she said. "They probably want to crib your style." 

Then she laughed and added, "We'll have to make sure we stay one step ahead." 

One day we had been shopping at the mall and I was waiting for Kath outside the ladies room with our packages. I was sipping a diet sprite, just standing there, when this older guy bumped into me. 

"Are you okay honey?" he said, touching my bare upper arm. He was smiling at me in this way that made me feel really…different. No one had ever smiled at me like that before. "I didn't hurt you did I, sweetheart?"

I was too stunned to say anything so I just smiled bashfully and shook my head "no." The guy kept looking at me until his elderly wife yanked him by the elbow.

"Oh for goodness sake Harold," the old woman said. "She's young enough to be your granddaughter. Let's go."

The old man winked as he was led away.

I told my wife what happened when she emerged from the bathroom. 

"He thought I was a girl Kathy," I said, clearly upset. "And I think other people might think that, too."

Kathy didn't seem surprised. 

"So what," she shrugged. "Androgyny is in."

"Do you really like me like this," I asked on day. I was wearing a pair of lavender-and-white cotton shorts and a lavender belly t with the word "kissable" spelled out in glitter across my chest. "Do you really think I look sexier like this?"

"Of course sweetie," my beautiful wife said. "I think you are just adorable."

That was all I needed to hear. I wore the butt-plug and cocksleeve pretty much all the time now. Kathy said it was a good idea for me to get used to the chastity device on a full-time basis. It would help train me, she said, and make me look that much smoother inside my sexy swimsuits. It wasn't just the swimsuits any more, either. The skimpier new outfits that I had begun to wear on the weekends required that I didn't have any lumps or bulges. 

I really did want to look my best. And besides, Kathy said, I acted so much sexier now that I was wearing the plug and sleeve. I wasn't sure what she meant. It was true that I was hot all the time now. I don't know. I guess, come to think of it, I was a lot more cooperative. Sometimes I wondered why, if Kathy found me so much more sexier lately, we didn't actually have any sex at all. I didn't want to ruin everything so I didn't ask her. I figured all good things in time. 

By this time, Kathy had already taken me to see the plastic surgeon. Dr. Wallach was a tall, dark, taciturn woman who scared me a little. She seldom spoke to me directly but seemed quite friendly to Katy. When I mentioned this to my wife, she laughed and said I was just being my silly insecure self again. I had to admit, I was pretty insecure lately. Kathy said a little plastic surgery would do wonders for my self-esteem. I crossed my fingers and hoped she was right.

Whenever we went to Dr. Wallach's office, I'd sit quietly on the edge of my chair, my hands folded in my lap while Kathy and the doctor discussed the alterations they planned to make. Dr. Wallach had my photograph scanned into her computer and she and Kathy would point out areas that needed improvement. They were able to tell what I would look like after the procedures, but they never let me see the "finished" me and I was too intimidated by Dr. Wallach to ask. Only later, when it was over, could I check myself in the mirror, and by then it was too late. They had already made minor changes to my cheekbones, my lips, and even the shape of my eyes. It happened so slowly, you could almost not notice. 

We had our July 4th picnic only this year Kathy asked me if it would be okay if we just limited to our friends Mary Pat and Bob. I knew Kathy had been out for lunch with Mary Pat several times since, but I hadn't seen Bob since our Memorial Day barbecue. I said it was fine by me if we just had the two of them. I was a little nervous about seeing Bob again. He seemed rather hostile the last time they were over, but I figured it was better than facing a whole yard full of relatives. I was beginning to discover that not everyone was willing to understand when you wanted to change your image a little. 

Kathy let me wear my most masculine outfit for the barbeque: a green bikini brief and a matching green jersey top that left my flat, brown belly bare. Bob liked basketball so I figured he would like the top. It was made out of a clingy ribbed material and had a gold "69" stenciled across the front. I slipped my feet into a pair of black japanese style straw sandals and tried to calm myself. Kathy saw me fussing at myself in the mirror and made an attempt to reassure me.

"You look great darling," she said. She smiled gently. "Don't worry. I don't think Bob will give you a hard time."

It was a great day for a pool party—hot and sunny. Bob seemed a little subdued and not at all like he was the last time. Mary Pat immediately commented on how much she liked my new look. She asked me where I had my hair done and wanted to know if I thought Bob would look good with his hair bleached and styled. I saw Bob give me a sidelong glance from his plate. I smiled and told his wife that I thought he would look really cool with his hair done. Maybe I went too far and I could feel myself blushing but I told Mary Pat that I thought Bob would look really cute in a bikini, too. Mary Pat clapped her hands delighted. 

"Did you hear that Bobby?"

Bob blushed, mumbled something, and just kept eating. I felt a little sorry for him. The three of us—I almost said "girls"—the three of us talked about shopping, styles, and tv shows. Ever since I started dressing differently, Kathy had started talking to me differently than she had before. She started telling me about her girl friends, who was talking, who wasn't. She told me about their relationships, their jobs, their affairs. It was the kind of stuff that I would have called gossip a short time ago but now I found it all absolutely engrossing. I could talk like this all night. I guess this was partly what Kathy meant by us getting closer. Still I noticed that while Kathy, Mary Pat, and I were talking Bob seemed left out. 

Later on, we had dessert. Well, everyone else had dessert. I had a lowfat yogurt cup and some diced pineapple. I was down to 120 pounds but I still had that five stubborn extra pounds to lose. Bob had finished his desert and stalked off to the pool to swim laps. I poured Mary Pat and Kathy a fresh cup of coffee and headed off to the pool.

I stood at the side of the pool and watched Bob's muscular body cut through the water. Even though we owned a pool, I'd never been a particularly strong swimmer. And lately I seemed to be even more timid of the water than usual. I didn't even like to swim anymore, preferring instead to float on a raft in the sun while working on my tan and reading a romance novel.

Bob reached the side of the pool, tossed the water back from his dark curly hair, and wiped his face with his large, strong hands.

"Coming in?"

I smiled. "Okay."

I kicked off my sandals and still wearing my top I descended the ladder into the shallow end. The cold water lapped against my naked belly. 

"Ohhhh," I said and clasped my arms. 

"You'll get used to it," Bob said and splashed me.

"Yikes!" I squealed and threw my hands up. "Don't"

"Okay, okay you little sissy, " Bob said. He had called me a "sissy" but there wasn't any meanness in his voice. "Aren't you going to take your shirt off?"

I shrugged. I didn't know how to explain it but lately I preferred to keep my chest covered. I just liked the way it looked better.

"No," I said. "I rather keep it on."

Bob grunted. "Suit yourself."

He waded around a little and I tried to think of something to talk to him about. It was strange. I never felt so at a loss for words. 

"It's a nice night," I said. 

"Yeah."

I sensed that Bob felt uncomfortable, too. He was usually so confident and at ease. I guess I could understand why he might have felt a little left out when we were with the girls. But, after all, it was just us guys now. 

"Do you think the Knicks still have a chance?"

Bob looked at me as if I were hopeless.

"What?" I asked, wondering if I'd said something wrong.

"Basketball season has been over about a month now."

"Really? Oh."

I put my hand to my mouth and giggled to hide my embarrassment. I guess I had just lost track. The truth was that I didn't really care about that stuff anymore. I don't think I ever really did. It just seemed that this was what guys talked about. If they didn't talk about sports and work, what did they talk about? What were they playing now, anyway? Baseball? What teams played that? 

"Are the Yankees in the Superbowl again?"

"Oh Jesus." 

"Oh no, did I do it again? Don't tell me, the Superbowl is over?"

Bob rolled his eyes.

"Tell meeeee," I said, faking a pout, my hands on my hips.

"Forget it," Bob said.

He slipped underwater and his body shot swiftly and silently under the surface to where I stood. For a moment I thought he was going to grab me around the legs and pull me under. I knew there would be nothing I could do if he did. I was still trembling a little when he popped out of the water about a foot away from me. He wiped the water from his face with two large, strong hands. He looked over my shoulder as if he wanted to make sure he wasn't overheard. Then he took another step towards me and fixed his dark eyes on my face. I was afraid, but I didn't know why.

"Listen dude," he said quietly. "I don't know what they're doing to you, but I'm warning you. Pretty soon its going to be too late."

I was really scared now. It wasn't so much what Bob was saying, but the way he was saying it that frightened me. He seemed so serious.

"What do you mean?" 

"I mean you're at the edge. You've got to be careful. If you keep going like this…"

Bob let the sentence hang. 

The moon was reflected in the water. I stirred it with my hand, admiring how the silver sweetheart ring that had replaced my wedding band glinted on my slender finger.

"I'm not sure I understand," I said.

"All I'm trying to tell you is that pretty soon it's going to be too late. You'll have gone too far."

God, he was so much bigger than I was. His arms, his shoulders, his hairy chest. He'd always been bigger, but now the difference in our sizes seemed to be exaggerated. Maybe it was my diet. Certainly, I had gotten a lot thinner over the past several months. I hadn't done any exercise either; except, of course, for my tummy workouts. I just seemed so, I don't know, so delicate, compared to Bob. Suddenly, I realized how small and exposed I was standing next to him. I felt totally unable to resist him, no matter what he might do. That feeling of powerlessness was terrifying, but it was something else, too…

"Too far," I said, "for what?"

"Look, do you like yourself like this?"

"Do you?"

Oh god, the question had just kind of popped out. My hand flew to my mouth, but, of course, it was too late. I just stood there, staring at Bob in shock, and then the tears stung my eyes. I was totally humiliated. I couldn't bear to have him see me a second longer. I turned and rushed from the pool as quickly as I could. I knew what I looked like with my arms held up out of the water but I didn't care. I was crying openly when I climbed out and I couldn't find one of my Japanese sandals which only made me cry harder. From behind me, I heard Bob's calm, strong voice. 

"Johnny come back here." 

I wanted to go back. Of all the things that had happened, that was the most terrifying of all. I shook my head "no no no." With the one sandal clutched to my chest, I ran through the gate separating the pool from the yard, passed the patio where Mary Pat and Kathy were still chatting, and into the house. They looked up as I passed but I was thankful that they didn't try to stop me. I ran upstairs to the spare room, locked the door, and threw myself down on the bed. Sometime later, there was a soft knock followed by Kathy's voice. 

"We're leaving to see the fireworks, love. Please come."

I thought seriously about not going, but I didn't want to make any more of a scene then I already had. So I got up, dressed, and went downstairs. I was pretty quiet during the short drive to the park where they were having the show. Bob drove and I sat in the passenger seat beside him. Mary Pat and my wife were in the back. I remembered that this was how it was whenever we went out together. Except back then everything seemed so different. Now as the wives talked about some mutual acquaintance from work, Bob and I sat in uncomfortable silence. I stared out the window. It was all I could do to keep from squirming in my seat.

Bob reached over and turned on the radio. There was the loud voice of a commentator over the roar of a crowd. I could tell that it was some kind of sporting event. But what kind I had no idea. Bob seemed to be thinking the same thing I was thinking.

He quickly turned the station.

"Is easy listening, okay?"

I didn't turn from the window.

"Whatever."

At the park I made it a point to stand next to Kathy. But as the show proceeded I found myself standing a little apart. I was wearing a pair of red short-shorts and a little white top with the slogan "american girl" in red sequins across the front. It was a cool night so I exchanged my sandals for a pair of white platform keds. They were girl sneakers, I know, but Kathy said they made me look taller. I had a white-hooded Tommy Girl fleece pullover tied by the sleeves around my waist. I was in the process of putting it on when I felt someone come up behind me.

"Here, let me help you," Bob said. 

I was about to protest, but I figured what was the point. He held the little pullover while I slipped my bare arms inside. 

"There," Bob said and smiled. "Snug as a bug."

"Thank you," I said cooly.

It was snug inside the pullover. I was tempted to pull up the hood but I didn't want to muss up my hair. Instead, I stretched the sleeves over my fingers and hugged myself. 

"Still cold?"

"I'm fine."

"Okay," Bob said and smiled again. "Listen, about what happened in the pool…"

I felt myself blush. I couldn't believe he would bring that up? What was the matter with him?

"I just wanted to say," he paused, as if looking for the words. "That it's, okay."

I stared resolutely at the sky, as if I could somehow will myself beyond the stars.

"Forget it," I said.

Just then there was a large "boom" and I jumped. Bob's strong hands caught me by the upper arms. I could feel the heat and strength radiating from his body. I should have pulled away immediately but I didn't. I heard Bob chuckle softly. Overhead a huge red-white-blue umbrella of light and sparkle filled the night-sky. All around us there were little cries of surprise and admiration. Bob squeezed me tighter. 

"The fireworks look so beautiful in your eyes," he said.

I felt like I was going to lose my balance. Had he really said what I thought he said? What did he mean? I was afraid to ask. I was afraid to say anything. Instead, I twisted free of his grasp. He let me go. If he hadn't, I would never have been able to break away.

"Yeah right," I said and stalked away.

I slept late the next morning. When I came down for breakfast, Kathy was already in the kitchen cleaning up. She turned from the sink, smiling.

"Good afternoon sleepyhead."

"Hi," I said. 

She was wearing a black one-piece swimsuit that clung to her perfect body. Still the one-piece covered more than the skimpy royal blue bikini I was wearing. It seemed pretty ironic. I went to the fridge, pulled out the nonfat milk, and fixed myself a bowl of high-fiber GoLean Kashi cereal. I carried it to the table and looked out the window that had a view of the pool. Kathy poured herself another cup of coffee and sat across from me at the table. She seemed to understand that I needed some quiet time. In fact, the night before she suggested that I sleep in the guest room. I stirred my cereal around listlessly with the spoon. I didn't seem to have much of an appetite at all.

"Kath?"

"What's bothering you honey?
 I decided there was no easy way to say this so I just blurted it out.

"I want to go on hormones."

"Really," Kathy said and sipped her coffee. She didn't seem at all surprise; or, if she was, she did a good job of hiding it. She had suggested I take hormones weeks before to control my sexual arousal and I had adamantly refused. Now everything was different. "What made you decide?"

"Last night," I started. "In the pool…"

I told her all about my encounter with Bob the night before. I told her how I couldn't help the thoughts coming into my mind. But even more troubling was the way I was reacting to them. I couldn't seem to control my unwanted sexual responses anymore. On top of that, the cocksleeve was so uncomfortable. If I stopped getting aroused at all…

"I'm afraid I'm turning gay," I said.

"Oh Johnny, honey, it's okay," Kathy said.

"It's not okay. I don't want to be gay."

"And you think that taking female hormones will keep you from being gay?"

"Won't it?"

I had just assumed that it would. Now I felt a genuine panic. If taking hormones wouldn't stop my sexual thoughts, what would?

"Of course they will," Kathy said. "Of course they will. And they will have so many other nice effects on your body."

"Really?"

"Oh yes. You're skin will get smoother and your hair longer. You'll no longer have to shave as much. And your body will really start filling out your bathing suits. You won't have to worry about those skinny thighs much longer." Kathy laughed. "But best of all, you won't be getting those ugly hard-ons anymore." 

Kathy seemed really pleased. I was relieved. Even though she had originally wanted me to take hormones, I wasn't sure how she would react to my latest revelation. She was incredibly supportive. For like the gazillionth time that summer, I thought how lucky I was to have a wife like Kathy.




Turning Summer Ch. 2



"When do you think I can start?" 

"I'll call my gynecologist this afternoon," Kathy said. "And set up an appointment."

Time passed. I had taken up permanent residence in the guest room by now. Kathy said it was good for married couples to have a little space between them. It helped keep things hot and romantic. I was a little confused. We never had sex anymore. But I guess that was the reason she thought maybe separate rooms might help. We decorated the room together. Well, sort of. Kathy always had a flair for interior design so I trusted her judgment.

We shopped for curtains and bedspreads and wall paint and I would pick out one thing and Kathy would show me why my choices were wrong. Everything she said made perfect sense at the time, but still I was a little surprised at how the room eventually came together. Taken one by one, the choices we made didn't seem that unusual, but the total effect was unmistakable. I wondered how I didn't see it coming all along. I looked round at the pink walls, the white bedspread with pink baby roses, the white furniture. 

"It looks like a girl's room," I said.

"Honey," Kathy explained patiently. "You okayed every choice we made. We spent a lot of money. Are you saying you don't like it?"

"No, I guess not," I touched my fingers to a pink satin lampshade. On the wall were soft muted watercolors: florals and landscapes. It was all very peaceful and relaxing. "It's very…pretty."

One day, after my ab roller exercises, Kathy presented me with a pretty little white box wrapped in a red bow. 

"What's this for," I said, looking up at her

"A little gift for being such a dear," my wife said. "I wanted to show you how much I appreciate what you're doing for our relationship. I know how hard you're trying. "

"I love you so much, Kathy."

"I know you do, sweetie. Now open your gift."

I hastily tore open the daintily wrapped box. 

"Oh Kath—"

"Put it on honey."

A few minutes later I stood in the tv room for Kathy's inspection. I remembered how this had all started almost two months earlier when Kathy bought me a white bikini. That first bathing suit was modest compared to the one I wore now: a little orange doily with a strip of cloth that fit snugly between my ass cheeks. My wife yanked the tiny swimsuit. She pulled the wispy waistband up so that the orange cord dug higher into my butt, pushing the plug I still wore deeper inside me. 

"Lots of men are wearing them now," Kathy said. "Someone even wrote a song about them." 

"Really?" I said, looking down at myself in the thong. 

"Really," Kathy said. 

"But its so…revealing. I mean, my whole butt is bare!"

"Well, you did want a chance to show off your tattoo, didn't you? I mean, you didn't go through all that pain for nothing."

I looked back at the little interlocking roses tattooed on my brown butt. Some time ago Kathy had taken me to a tattoo parlor. I'd always talked about getting a tattoo. Kathy said she found them really sexy. The interlocking roses weren't exactly what I'd had in mind, but Kathy thought they were just adorable and the tattoo artist, a huge, bearded biker-type, agreed they were just right for me. I remembered how strange it felt, draped over his lap, while he needled the ink into my naked buttocks.

"I guess you're right," I said.

"Of course I am. Besides you look absolutely scrumptious."

"Do you think so?" I said, brightening. I loved it when Kathy said she found me sexy. "I feel so…" I giggled. "Exposed."

"That's the whole point silly." Kathy slapped me playfully on my bare asscheek. "Now run along outside, honey, and get those buns browned. And don't forget your sunscreen."

I guess I was just being silly. I was making too big a deal of it. And, in time, I got used to the jiggle every time I walked and the feeling of complete exposure. Kathy insisted I wear the bathing suit whenever I was outside on a sunny weekend. I wore it to mow the lawn and wash the car and do other little chores. At first, I thought I must be making quite a spectacle of myself. But after a while, it didn't seem that it really mattered much. Our neighbors got used to seeing me this way and it was no big deal for me to stand watering the lawn in my bikini and talk to one of the other wives about tv, fashion, relationships, whatever.

The guys kidded me a little at first but, as Kathy said, I think they were just jealous at how well I got along with women. Guys can be like that. After awhile, though, they pretty much settled down and treated me really sweetly. They were always offering to come over and help me when they saw me struggling to do something. Anytime I had to climb a ladder or change the oil or trim a hedge, it seemed one of the guys would show up to do it for me. Our mailman Fred was always chatting me up. He would stand by my lounge chair and offer to put sunscreen on my legs. It got to be kind of a joke. Everyone in the neighborhood was always getting their mail late.

"This is kind of cool," I said to Kathy one day. "I have so many friends now."

By now, the hormones had started taking effect. I no longer got hard-ons any more, which was a big relief. I wouldn't turn gay. Even when I thought of Bob, my penis would stay soft and flaccid. 

"You're impotent," my wife announced.

The word frightened me a little. Like, wasn't that supposed to be a bad thing? But Kathy was clearly delighted. She told me that I wouldn't be getting hard-ons anymore, ever. As a reward, she took off the chastity device. Then she taught me how to hold my butt-plug in place by always squeezing my sphincter shut. The tight thong I wore all the time helped with that. 

My nipples were sore and I started to get a little puffiness in my breasts. Kathy told me that it was just a harmless side-effect from the hormones. It was worth putting up with in order not to have hard-ons. It's better than turning gay, she said. I agreed. Still, it was a little embarrassing. I was even beginning to bounce a little up top. So Kathy suggested that I begin wearing bikini tops.

I was stunned. Certainly this was going too far.

"Kathy I can't do that. What will people say?" 

"Johnny," my wife said patiently, "What are they going to say if they see you are growing breasts?" 

She was right. From that day on I wore bikini tops. It wasn't so bad, really. And with my breasts getting plumper all the time, I realized that I had no choice but to conceal them. 

"You like David, don't you?" Kathy said one evening.

I was kneeling on the floor, painting Kathy's toenails. 

"Yes," I said. "He's a pretty good guy."

David was the head of marketing at the firm where I worked. We had both started at around the same time. But where my career had languished in middle-management, David was one of those handsome, outgoing, success-driven junior executives who seemed to be on the fast track to bigger and better things. Kathy had met him several times at company Christmas parties and bar-b-cues and the like. He was forever joking that if Kathy ever wanted to dump me for someone with a real future she could make an honest man of him. We always had a great time together.

"That's good," Kathy said. "I want you to like him." 

"I do Kath." I blew on my wife's freshly-painted toes to dry them.

She was wearing a tunic dress that I'd helped her pick out. It had a sexy square cut neckline in front and back. The hem line rode up over her knees to mid-thigh and showed off her long, toned, and tanned legs. Her hair was smartly pulled back and braided. Her green eyes and full lips made her look a little like Angelina Jolie in the Tomb Raider movie. Her panties, which I could see from where I knelt, were little more than a web of black lace over her shaved pussy. I slipped on her shoes, elegant black-and-gold stiletto sandals, and fastened the little buckles on the straps crisscrossing her delicate ankles.

Kathy reached down and tousled my bleached hair. She no longer wore her wedding or engagement ring. 

"I'm so lucky to have a husband who's not jealous," she said. "I find that so incredibly sexy."

I smiled up at Kathy. I loved it when she said I was sexy. She and David had been going out together for a couple of weeks now. I felt a little uneasy about their relationship at first, but she just seemed so much happier and affectionate towards me ever since they began seeing each other. I figured it couldn't be a bad thing. 

"I love you Kath," I said.

"I love you too honey. Oh, look at the time. David will be here to pick me up any minute now." She grabbed her little black purse from the coffee-table, leaned forward, and pecked me on the cheek. "Enjoy your evening with Bob. You boys don't get into any trouble now."

"I promise," I said smiling. 

Kathy laughed. She headed for the door just as the buzzer rang. 

"And don't wait up."

--to be continued--