Transitional Delight

Kirby still couldn't believe what he was doing, but it felt so good; too good to stop.

In and out his dick went, sliding greasily through the quivering tube of flesh and muscle that was Alan's butt-hole. It felt so damned good, just pushing and pulling, feeling every millimeter of his cock being squeezed and rubbed inside that hot, hot tunnel.

There was a grunt and Kirby came back to his senses and eased back a little. He didn't want to hurt anything, especially not anything belonging to this incredibly lovely creature on hands and knees before him. Alan. His 23 year old son, or, he thought, should it be daughter now?

He gazed down at the back of Alan, who'd returned from college for the holidays, but it was quite a different sight than when Kirby had last seen him.

Her, he corrected himself.

Alan had always been slender and almost feminine in shape and manner and Kirby had assumed that his son would most likely just turn out gay. That was alright. That part didn't matter. He wasn't into guys himself but if his loving son was then nobody had better say a damned word against him.

But—and now Kirby searched for a more appropriate name—Alaina perhaps?—had come home this time looking more womanly than ever. Kirby had realized that Alaina had always tried to hide his (her) femininity by dressing in men's clothes and never wearing makeup, but when he'd opened the door this time, he saw that Alan/Alaina had gone now just the opposite way.

And there hadn't been much done; just a touch of makeup, a slightly different hair style, and clothes that could have been either male or female—except for the right-over-left of her top's opening. But with just this subtle amount of change the transformation had been complete. In fact Alaina's appearance had taken Kirby's breath away. He had never known up to that moment how truly beautiful and womanly his son had always been. He'd simply stared. Alan had blushed a deep red and then Kirby remembered his manners and let the boy in.

They sat talking in the living room before Alan had gone up to unpack, and Kirby had found himself glancing at his son's beautiful legs. They were as shapely and now smooth as any woman's, but only if that woman were some tall, gorgeous model walking down a catwalk somewhere in Europe. There was no hint that Alan was anything but natural born female—not in the shoulders, or muscles or jaw or throat—and even his hands and feet, which Kirby had always thought of as something less than manly—now matched everything completely.

They talked a little more and then Alan had gone up to his room, unpacked and changed, and came back downstairs in a tee shirt and shorts and looking even more feminine before. That at least was Kirby's take on it. Alan had taken off the makeup and wore just plain bum-around-the-house clothes like he normally did while visiting, but there was something else about him now. Something that seemed to glow and fill the room. Kirby found himself staring again, wishing his wife were still alive to give him at least a little advice on how to deal with this but then he looked away and decided to get back to making supper.

His mind was still filled with the presence of his son though. That was when he began to try to think of Alan as a woman, because though they hadn't openly spoken about it, it was pretty obvious that that was where Alan was heading. The thing was, the boy had already arrived there in Kirby's opinion and perhaps had been there for years, with just these last little changes making things obvious.

"I can help out in the kitchen, Dad," Alan said as he padded into the kitchen area. Kirby glanced over his shoulder and the phantasm had not changed one bit. There was a tall, beautiful young woman standing there in her bare feet and long legs, with her pretty long hair down over her shoulders.

Everything was long about her and Kirby now felt a little uncomfortable. He gulped a little, knowing he had just looked at his own son as someone else—a very lovely, very alluring someone else.

"Uh, that's okay," he said over his shoulder, but without looking. "I've got it." Then he thought better of it and to not exclude Alan from things, as had been his habit. "Well...maybe the potatoes? Peel like about five of them?"

"Sure—you got it, Dad." Alan had said, and he went about doing it.

But during the next twenty or so minutes, Kirby found his eyes flickering back again and again to the beautiful woman busying herself about the kitchen. He no longer could think of Alan in any other terms—not ones that made any sense, at any rate—and the more he noticed, the more uncomfortable and in truth, guilty, he felt.

Then Alan unknowingly made the mistake of pausing in his peeling of the potatoes to reach in the hip pocket of his short-shorts and pull out an elastic hair tie. He quickly proceeded to gather his long hair and put it back in a ponytail, then simply went back to work.

Kirby now had an erection. He had always had a thing for girls in ponytails, and now there was an exquisitely beautiful one standing just feet away—in bare feet no less (another point of interest for Kirby)—and now with a lovely ponytail wagging and swaying behind her.

Kirby took a breath and tried to think of something else for awhile. He was glad he was facing the stove counter so his boner couldn't be seen, but that thought made him think of this other person's crotch. He found himself looking down that way and finally caught a glimpse of his son's crotch.

There didn't seem to be anything there. Kirby wondered, in shock, whether his son had had his junk cut off, and in thinking this Kirby almost sliced through the end of his finger with the knife he was using. He stopped just short, saw his hands trembling, and put down the knife. He thought quickly of some other part of the meal he could start in on and decided to go that way. Going to the fridge to get the eggs he almost bumped into Alan, who was done with the spuds and was going to get some ice water to drink.

"Ooops, sorry," the boy/girl laughed, and Kirby snapped a quick grin on his face before getting the eggs.

"No problemo, Al...." he said, not able to decide on how to complete the name. He came out from behind the fridge door with the name Al still on his mind. It was a good, strong, manly name, but the person standing there as the door swung back, didn't match that name—at all.

"Look," Kirby finally said. "It's pretty obvious you've changed. And I don't mind it, not at all, but we...didn't actually speak of it before."

He set the eggs down and tried with all his might to keep his hands from trembling as he started to crack them into a bowl.

"Yah, Dad," Alan said, softly. "I've...I guess I finally came to terms with...with what I've always been—or something like that. I figured if you wanted to talk about it, you would, but if not, I wasn't going to, you know, just go 'Hey Dad, guess what?' kind of thing...."

Kirby nodded to himself. Logical as always. But that wasn't even the problem. His hands a little less shaky now, now that the real conversation had begun, he looked over his shoulder at his son.

"Well, first off," he said. "I call you 'Alan' or just now even 'Al,' and it just didn't feel right, you know? If there's some other name you'd like me to call you, just tell me. It'd make me more comfortable, actually."

"Oh," Alan laughed. "I've...I've always like the name 'Alaina.'"

"Funny," Kirby said, almost wistfully. "That's the name your Mom and me would have given you if you'd been born a girl." He looked back over his shoulder again and smiled. "Alaina it is then."

"Thanks, Dad," Alan said. "I know it must seem weird and all, but—"

"—Actually not," Kirby broke in. "I mean, you were never one for football and baseball and all that guy-stuff. I knew that all along. It's just that, well, I just never knew how...feminine you were. I mean I knew, but now it's...just something else."

"Yah I know," Alan said, getting down the sugar and mixing some in a bowl with milk. "I was always trying to hide it, I guess. Now I just relax and let it be what it is. I didn't do much to myself, you know."

"I noticed," Kirby said. "With someone as completely pretty as you are.... He instantly regretted saying it quite that way, but continued, "Well, it doesn't take much I guess."

He noticed his son/daughter nodding out of the corner of his eye. Then he saw Alan look up from stirring the bowl and gaze over at him. Kirby was unable to keep from turning and returning that soft, shining gaze.

"Thanks, Dad," Alan whispered. "...thanks for...noticing...."

They each went back to what they'd been doing but now Kirby had the image of his son's beautiful, glistening eyes to add to all the others. He threw himself into the final preparations for supper, trying to push every other thought aside.

Alan stared at what he was doing but wasn't really focusing on it any longer. He had heard his Dad's tenderly spoken words and appreciated them even more than he ever dreamed he would. He knew it had to be a shock to him, but he hadn't meant it to be. He'd only done as much as was necessary to let what he really was show through, and now he'd removed even that. All that really remained was his slightly different hairstyle because he wore the same beat up jeans-shorts he always had and had on a tee-shirt. Just normal around-the-house attire. His legs and body were of course smooth and hairless—shaving being one of the last barriers he'd crossed—but the rest of him was just as before. Having never been hirsute, Alan hardly needed to shave anything in order to sustain a smooth, silky appearance.

He added the next ingredient and mixed it slowly in. Sugar cookies. Something quick to make and sweet to eat. Comfort food. He felt he needed that just now. There were so many things that were changed now and he needed something to hang on to. The compliment he'd just received from his dad had somehow made all the difference. He'd never known what he would have done if his own father had rejected him, like some of his friends had. But that was over now. He felt better, braver, stronger inside.

Glancing out the window he was instantly taken by the sight of a light snow falling. He hadn't seen snow for the entire year and now he couldn't help but stare.

"Snowin', Dad," he whispered, and his dad stopped what he was doing and came to stand beside him.

"The weather-guy said we might have a little," Kirby said, but as he went to put his hand on Alan's shoulder just as he normally would at such a time, he hesitated, staring at his hand and the seemingly delicate shoulder beneath it. The shoulder itself wasn't changed, but Kirby decided his idea of who it belonged to had changed, and now it was different in a way.

"I won't break you know," Alan whispered, sensing the hand so close by. "I'm still me, Dad. I'm still me on the outside, except for some little changes, that's all. And I'm still me on the inside, except that...I'm not trying to be something I'm not, anymore...." Alan turned and looked at his father. He smiled and Kirby smiled back and turned once more to the falling snow.

Kirby finally clapped his hand down on his son's slender shoulder, just as he would have normally done and together they stood for a few silent moments, watching the weather.

Kirby was sitting straight up in bed when he opened his eyes. He glanced around, realizing he was back in his own room, in his own world, and that it had all been a dream. He wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his pajamas and then got his feet to the floor and stood. He felt his erection tenting the front of his bottoms before he saw it, and quickly reached in and down and flipped the thing downward a bit. He cleared his throat softly and padded to the bathroom. Peeing with an erection wasn't easy so he sat on the toilet seat and pushed his cock down toward the water. He tried to relax, tried to let his boner fade, but his dream, the one which had just awakened him, was still fresh in his mind.

But the simple act of touching his cock to press it down under the rim of the toilet seat made him aware of how fully erect it was. It was swollen and thick but tender and delicate to the touch, showing that it had been hard for quite some time already. The head was engorged and spongy with excitement and though he hadn't been planning it, the moment he touched his prong he felt compelled to touch it more.

And then more.

His fingers lightly caressed it, brushing slowly from base to head and it shivered up harder than before. Images from his dream returned to him now and he closed his eyes as he sat there, leaning forward, elbows on thighs. His pelvis was rotated downward so his prick wouldn't be touching the underside of the closed-ring seat.

A girl. She was beautiful with shoulder length brown hair, slender and long-legged. She had been kneeling on a brown blanket in the middle of some emerald green meadow, naked but for that shimmering hair of hers, her eyes shining as she smiled up at him, holding out a golden cup. It was like a chalice.

Then the images sped past and he was laying on her, kissing her sweet, gasping mouth. He sucked her wet tongue and her flat chest filled in a gasp. And as he continued enjoying her luscious mouth his hand ran down from her lifted chest, down the concave of her belly and lower. He reached his fingers out through her soft pubic curls and then...bumped into something standing stiffly in the way. It felt like a small, smooth tree trunk jutting from the delicate lawn of pubic grass surrounding it and Kirby was compelled to reach his fingers around it. He gripped it gently and felt it throbbing and thickening, its silken covering stretching. The girl moaned softly and her breath was sweet, as pretty as she was. He kissed her again and began stroking the stiff thing up and down, using just his fingertips along its bottom side.

And now he did the same to his cock as it angled down at the clear toilet water. He felt it quivering expectantly, increasing in girth, but he remembered that the dream girl's organ had done the same thing.

Then she'd gasped, held her breath and made a soft, low, womanly moan deep in her throat. Kirby had felt warmth oozing down around his sliding fingers making the entire silken surface of her thing slick and wet. He remembered he'd held her more firmly there, rubbing his fist up and down around the undulating thing, giving it the maximum stimulation he could—because he liked doing it. He liked making her moan and sigh and gasp and quiver in orgasm. He went on rubbing her up and down and up and down and more of her thick juices flowed out and ran down over his hand, then more.

The thing, the penis he was now sure it was, had stopped throbbing after awhile and the girl had let out her breath and seemed to melt into the blanket and even into the ground. Her body glistened dully with her exertions and he kissed her again on her soft lips.

And now Kirby remembered sitting back from her and looking at the warm, fleshy thing shrinking in his hand. She had ejaculated quite a lot and his hand was plastered with her issue. And that's when his own cock started to throb and lift, and in moments his own semen was squirting out in short, forceful jets. He could still see her, laying there, so completely naked, so vulnerable, so beautiful. His eyes had swept down from her face, over her thin frame, down her long, shapely legs, to her lovely feet. Everything was bare, nothing was hidden. He squeezed her cock and then had awakened, realizing that it was Alaina laying there and that he'd just jerked her off to ecstasy. And now he'd just jerked himself off to the memory of the ecstasy he'd given her.

Guilt instantly filled him, but it faded strangely quickly in the afterglow of that joining he'd just felt, even though it hadn't been simultaneous. He squeezed and rubbed more cum out of himself, letting it drip down to join the large amount already sinking to the bottom of the toilet bowl then finally sat back and took a deep breath.

Perhaps it was the lateness of the night—or earliness of the morning—but Kirby, now completely returned from his fantasy masturbation, thought of his beautiful son/daughter Alaina, laying fast asleep down the hall, and realized that if—though it would never happen in reality—he ever met her kneeling naked in the middle of some luscious green meadow, he would not be entirely at odds with doing what he done to her in the dream. She had seemed so different in the dream, like another person, and in truth, so did Alan now.

Kirby finally allowed himself to pee and then took some toilet paper and squeezed off the last drops of urine and cum and wiped it off. He let the clump fall, then stood and hiked up his underwear. He turned to watch the water swirl as he flushed and then went out and climbed back into bed. Before he fell back to sleep the thought crossed his mind that he wouldn't mind having that same dream again—or at least a continuation of it.

When he opened his eyes the next morning, Kirby remembered the dream, remembered what he'd done in the bathroom, and remembered what he'd considered. He realized he must have been still a little muddled from sleep and shrugged the idea off. He got out of bed, went to have a pee, put his robe on and wandered out into the kitchen area. He was grateful it was now Saturday and he would have nothing more important to do but to have some breakfast and perhaps spend some time with his son.

Daughter, he corrected himself mentally.

Alan was nowhere to be found however. He glanced over at where he kept his car keys thinking perhaps that he'd gone out to the store or for a drive, which would have been fine, but they were still there where he'd left them Friday evening when he'd come home. He remembered the almost frantic drive back from the office, trying to get here before Alan arrived, and all because of some last minute work related things. He'd gotten back just in time, but now...where was he?

"She, damn it," Kirby said to himself, and again he considered the incredible change that his former son had gone through. He wondered again if Alan had officially become Alaina, and realized his lack of knowledge about such things. He promised himself to ask the next time they had a chance to talk; that smooth, flat contour in the crotch of Alan's shorts still puzzled him.

He went into the kitchen to make coffee and found that a pot had already been made. It was still hot and so he poured a cup and strolled out back toward the pool deck. That's where he found Alan, and for a brief instant, even knowing it was him laying out there on a big beach blanket in the early morning sun, Kirby blinked and rubbed his eyes.

At first he thought it was a young woman laying out there in a bikini, a red one, but when he blinked he saw she didn't have a top on. That made things just a little worse for him for that split second. But as he moved closer to the sliding glass back doors he could see it was indeed Alan, and that he indeed did have on a bikini bottom—an extremely brief one, almost like a g-string.

Despite finally recognizing his son, Kirby's eyes quickly moved up to the chest and found it smooth and flat just as always. He'd halfway expected to see tits there, owing to the sleek femininity of the rest of the boy's body. He was simply and innocently sunning himself as he'd done so often but with what Kirby now knew, and with the overall change in Alan's appearance, however slight, he looked topless now, even without breasts to hide.

Kirby quickly took a mouthful of hot coffee and gulped it, using the burning in his throat to distract his mind from going any further, but he had already surveyed Alan's entire body as it stretched out there, from the pretty profile of the face, the long neck, the smooth shoulders and pretty chest, down the inward sweep of the tummy, the protrusion of the hipbones, the still puzzling flatness of the crotch, and then the curving shape of thigh and knee and calf. His eyes lingered on the boy's feet, and he wondered if there was some part of the sex change operation that included making the feet look like girl's feet—because they certainly looked that way from where he was standing—and whether or not his son had already had that done.