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Losing My Maleness To Become A Girl

By: Lyricala



This is the first part of a story describing the path to a dramatic transformation in my life changing my sex from male to female. I did it for a Nigerian man at his request and I must confess I am truly happy. I certainly did not expect this to happen when we first met but now that I have made the journey I realize the girl I am now was always in me. It just took the right circumstances to let it happen.

I have always liked black men. The lovely hue of their skin, the developed musculature, their swag and of course their dicks. Black mens' dicks are longer and thicker than other races and I have always enjoyed sucking them and being fucked hard by them. I realize this is to objectivize black men. I can not help it. I have only ever been interested in them.

And so when I first started going out I would look for black guys to go home with. I became well known for it as well. I was called a "chocolate queen" by other gay men and it was assumed (correctly) that I liked being fucked by black men as a bottom. Over the years my ass became well used and by the time I was 22 I could take a 10 inch dick in my ass no problem. Some guys didn't like it as they knew I must have had a few big dicks in me to be able to accommodate their own quite so easily. Others were pleased that they could ram themselves hard into me without me making a fuss, and they merrily screwed me for hours slapping my ass as they buried their big black dicks in and out of me.

I was a good-looking guy. 6 foot tall, a reasonably handsome face, and slim. I was not very hairy (just a little on my chest) and black guys seemed to like that. Particularly African men. I had a fuck buddy called Anthony from Nigeria who used to pump me regularly. He would ring up when he was horny and over I came for a session. He had a fuck sling which I would strap myself into so that he could penetrate really deep. 

One day he invited me over for a session and introduced me to his friend Peter, also from Nigeria. Peter had been a footballer in Europe but had been thrown out of his team as he had gotten a girl pregnant. He was straight and was looking for a new job so was staying in Anthony's flat whilst he looked. When I arrived for my session, Anthony introduced us in the kitchen and explained that Peter was staying with him. Peter was fine with gay men and didn't mind what we were doing - he just didn't like it himself. Anthony had smacked my ass in front of Peter saying:

"How can you resist this" and they both laughed as Anthony led me off to the bedroom.

There was a particular position that Anthony liked - missionary. He would lie me on my back and shaft me with my ankles on his shoulders. I loved it too and used to scream out loud as he fucked me hard deep and fast. We were doing just that when out of the corner of my eye I saw Peter looking at us. He had stepped into the room quietly as were in the throws of passion. I was a little embarrassed at first but then I saw he was rubbing his dick under his trousers. He was getting turned on by the sight of his friend fucking the living daylights out of a white boy.

"Maybe I wanna try a bit of this after all" he said.

Anthony laughed and said he was welcome to try as long as I didn't mind. I wasn't sure at first but when I saw his dick as he pulled his pants down I was mesmerized. It was 14 inches long and as thick as my wrist. Peter himself had a wonderful body, toned and athletic and very very dark. As Anthony withdrew, Peter slipped on a condom and very naturally assumed the same position and took off where Anthony had just left off.

But those extra 4 inches from Peter were painful at first. He seems to enjoy the fact he was hurting me a little as he laughed when I grimaced as he buried his dick in me. Then he started fucking me. It was the deepest fuck I have ever experienced. I was screaming as he energetically thrust his manhood in and out of me. And I was pleased that he was enjoying it as well. I was the first boy he had fucked and that he was enjoying it was fun for me. Anthony was smiling as he watched his friend fuck me senseless. After about 30 minutes Peter came and collapsed next to me soaked in sweat. We had not kissed or indeed had any foreplay but I was happy to have accommodated his full 14 inch dick.

After that we were all talking in the kitchen again. Peter was asking about gay sex. He was interested in role play and whether bottoms like me were feminine or sissy. I wasn't really but could be camp if I wanted. He said he was impressed that I could take all his dick and that not many women he had fucked could take it all. I left a little later, leaving Anthony and Peter chatting in Igbo. I loved hearing the language of Nigeria on these studs.

A few days later Peter rang me and asked me out for a drink. I agreed to meet and we went to a straight bar and sat in a booth. He was still interested in the gay/bottom thing and why if I was a man, I liked taking dick in me. He had a fairly traditional view on sex and women being there to receive, men to fuck. Men receiving dick did not seem natural to him. The conversation was good-natured and we laughed a lot. He asked if he could come home with me and I said yes.

As soon as we were in the door, Peter grabbed my ass and pulled me towards him kissing me full on. It was, I have to say, very very nice. At 6ft 4 he was that but taller than me and I melted in his arms like a girl! He gently bit my lip and stroked my arse. I could taste his saliva in my mouth as our tongues wrestled and his growing member in his pants. Before long we were upstairs in my bedroom and he was fucking me slowly and lovingly. We tried many different positions that night and many different paces. I think we didn't stop for about 5 hours. It was the best sex I had ever had and I knew he enjoyed it too. He kept saying he could not believe his dick was buried to the hilt in me. 

"No girl ever took so much of this dick" he said.

By the morning I was completely exhausted, my ass stretched like never before. We slept well in to the afternoon. He liked me laying my head on his chest as we slept. I would sometimes wake and look down at his dark black member thinking how lucky I was. There was something about him. His manliness, his aggression in bed, his tenderness in bed, his taste and smell. I wanted him. And he wanted me. I enjoyed smelling of him. That strong African musk that some black men have. I could smell it on me even after he had left and I had showered.

Over the next few months we dated and fucked a lot. We kissed a lot. He enjoyed being sucked off as well - I must have taken gallons of his sperm down my willing throat over that time. But never once did he touch my dick. He wasn't at all interested in it. When I came it was from being fucked by him - never from touching myself as he fucked me. He wanted to use my ass to bring himself to orgasm and I was a willing and happy participant. But he was interested in the girl thing. One day he asked me to shave my legs "to make them smooth like a lady" and when I did he was wild with passion. He fucked me for hours and hours stroking my smooth legs as he ploughed away. And I seemed to be taking on the role of a woman. I would pick up his clothes from the floor, I would cook for him. He would watch football on TV while I did household chores. When the game was over he would look at me smiling and say that he wanted me in the bedroom in 5 minutes. And it was always he who initiated sex rather than me. In fact the one time I did try he brushed me off and said he needed to sleep. I did not mind at all, in fact I rather enjoyed the more submissive role I was taking on. I was certainly satisfied sexually, being fucked every night by this big dicked black stallion. I loved his dick as well, familiar with every vein on its 14 inch length. I knew how to give good head and he was always hard and wanting more. I matched his sexual appetite and never once wanted to say no to him.

One time in the night I went to pee. I had stood over the loo pissing into the bowl. When I came back he asked me sit down next time as that was "more appropriate". When he went it was like Niagara Falls as he emptied his bladder through his enormous schlong. I was ordered to make a more demure hissing sound like a lady.

I regularly shaved my legs for him. Indeed all hair below my neck. If I allowed it to grow a bit he would comment saying that it was more attractive when smooth asking me to shave. I could tell during our foreplay that it turned him on caressing my smooth silky skin as his member always thickened when he touched me. So I was happy to shave. I started using depilatory creams as well.

After about 6 months Peter asked me to try on some Victoria's Secret underwear he had purchased. I will never forget the look of lust he had as I pulled on the stockings and garter in front of him. I was almost scared at the animalism it brought out in him that night. He fucked me doggy pushing my head down in the pillow with my stockings still on. It was so hard I had to ask him to slow down, something I had never done before. 

Another development was that he stopped using condoms. We had the good sense to have HIV tests and when we both came back negative, he suggested that he fuck me "bareback" as that was more natural. I had enjoyed the ease of condoms, self containing his spunk when he came, keeping me clean in my ass. When I suggested that he keep using a condom he said it was more natural and that if I loved him I would allow it. So I said yes. I think he would not have used a condom anyway even if I had objected but as I loved him I went along with it. Every night I was fucked raw by him, and every morning my ass was a sticky mess. His cum invaded me everywhere. I could taste it in my mouth in the morning and feel it leaking from my ass after every session. He even liked using his cum as lubricant for a subsequent fuck. 

I started wearing the VS underwear for him all the time. I was constantly shaved for him. And I was not allowed to see anyone else. One time Anthony asked me out for a drink and I asked if he wanted to come. He got really angry and refused to allow me to go. I wasn't even going for sex but still he was very possessive. 

I was, though, by and large, blissfully happy. I had taken on the role of a woman in the house and in the bedroom. I thoroughly enjoyed our sex life. I was fully serviced in my ass like never before and, save having to douche his sperm out of my ass every day, there was little inconvenience to my life. I went to work each day and came home to my man Peter for the evening.

One day Peter asked me if I wanted to be "more of a woman". I asked him what he meant and he said that I could me even more feminine. He took me on-line and showed me information on male to female operations where the male's penis is effectively turned into a vagina. I was shocked about this. I knew he had no interest in my penis but I didn't understand why he would want me to be rid of it.

"To be my real girl" was what he said.

I will never forget our sex that night. Peter was gentle and romantic. As he slowly buried his dick in my ass kissing my neck, he asked me to think about the operation. He asked me if I really loved him and whether I would do it for him. I was lying on my back with Peter on top of me. He kissed me a lot on my neck and ears, as was talked. His hard dick was in me all the time. Not fucking me at first we just lay there chatting about it. He told me it would be a wonderful sacrifice for him and that he would like his lover to have a pussy. When he did start fucking me with his hips, he had been so turned on by the idea of my pussy that he came almost immediately. As his body trembled, I remember putting my hands on his ass feeling his spasms. Thick strings of his cum drained into me as he emptied his balls for what seemed like a minute. I was pushing his ass into me as he came, wanting his seed so much, wishing that I was a real girl with a real pussy and a real cervix. I was so caught up in the tenderness of him that I started crying. I loved Peter a lot and would do anything for him....

(to be continued)

Losing My Maleness To Become A Girl Ch. 02



And so "the change" as we started calling it, became a daily topic. It wasn't a question of if I would go through with it, but when.

Peter arranged a consultation with a psychiatrist and I started on a course of hormones. These had the effect of making me lose some body hair and putting on a little weight. I also found that I wasn't as strong as before. I stopped doing weights and started to swim more as Peter wanted me to be more toned. I needed to shave my body hair less as the hormones had a depilatory effect. My body started to change. I developed breasts - small ones as I no longer did bench press and the effect of the estrogen hormones. My ass became more rounded and my genitals seemed to shrink a little. Peter was supportive of me. One day, as I looked at myself in the mirror, he came up behind me and kissed my neck gently.

"I love what you are becoming," he said.

And I knew he did. He reminded me every day to take my hormones, even bringing them to me with a glass of water. Our sex life was amazing. I had long lost any difficulty in taking his 14 inch dick. He came in me at least 3 times a night. Sometimes more - if he was horny. I no longer worried about the inconvenience of our barebacking, and was happy to have the smell of his seed constantly with me. As my body became softer and more feminine, his seemed to become harder. He was a regular gym user and he relished his muscles. He loved the softness and smoothness of my transforming body, and said he liked having more to hold on to when he fucked me. For my part I enjoyed the total dominance he had over me, succumbing to his superior strength and athleticism as he fucked me aggressively like a steam hammer. Sometimes I whimpered as he took me, knowing he liked that, knowing it made him fuck me even harder. I loved it when he worked up a sweat when fucking me and loved to taste it when I kissed his body. I was infatuated with him, waiting on him all day downstairs, and letting him use me like a ragdoll upstairs. I no longer smelled like I did before either. I smelled of him, his sweat, his musk, his cum, and I loved it. It was as if I was becoming subsumed into him.

I had a breast augmentation operation which went well. I found it difficult at first with the new weight on my chest but I soon grew used to them. Peter loved them and would direct me to hold them together as he fucked between them. I would rub KY on them and he often "pearl-necklaced" me that way. My tits added a new dimension to our sex and of course became an important benchmark in my physical transformation. I had sensitive aureolae as well and he laughed when they got hard as he licked them. He liked as well to fuck me doggy holding onto my new breasts as he ploughed away.

The reader may pause at this stage to ponder why, if Peter liked women, he did not just go and get one rather than stay with me as I transformed. I do not know the answer to this save that he seemed to be happy that a biological man was prepared to give up his maleness for him. It seemed the ultimate sacrifice for him and a true declaration of love. There was also some element of control on his part. He wanted a servile sex partner, one who could receive from him whenever he wanted and my maleness was for him a psychological barrier to that. 

After I had my breasts implanted I threw away all my old male clothes and started dressing completely as a woman. I would go out with Peter to the store and he would walk with me with a hand around my waist. He seemed proud of me. I passed for a very presentable woman. Once we were in a bar and Peter had gone to the washroom. A drunk white man came up to me and asked why a pretty girl like me was hanging with a black guy. I rebuffed him but was overjoyed that I had passed as woman. All the hormones were beginning to work. When I told Peter about it in the car on the back he got aroused and pulled over, asking me to suck him off before we proceeded. I did.

And again he was sex crazed in bed that night. I think we fucked for around 5 hours pretty much non stop. He would cum in my ass, then cum down my throat, then back to my ass. He fucked me against a wall, my legs wrapped around his torso. And he kissed me a lot that night. I loved his taste. I was blissfully happy. After his last ejaculation, he said to me:

"Honey you need to get the op. We will be so happy!"

I had been putting it off. The ultimate change. Fear, trepidation, no going back. All things I had felt as the months advanced. But I knew that if I wanted to keep Peter, I would have to complete the change.

"OK lets set a date." I said.

We went to see my doctor again and asked for a date for the vaginoplasty. The day drew nearer. I increased my hormone pills and committed myself to being a woman. I changed my surname to be the same as Peter's at his request. Our last night in bed before the op he fucked me beautifully kissing me all over and ramming himself home with passion and conviction.

As we lay in bed looking at the ceiling he said

"Just think, after tomorrow you will be my girl."

And I slept with my head on his chest all night, as happy as I have ever been.

The following day I woke up as a man for the last day of my life and Peter drove me to the hospital for the surgical removal of my testicles and penis and the creation of my vagina.

To be continued.



Losing My Maleness To Become A Girl Ch. 03



Peter stayed with me as the anaesthetist weighed me. He was smiling at me as the surgeon explained the operation and the likely time it would take. I must have looked nervous because Peter kept stroking my hand asking me to relax.

"I really love that you are doing this. You will become my wife for real." 

he said as I began the final preparations.

I had not been allowed to eat the night before and I was shaved around my pubic area. One last look at my penis before the surgical gown came down and I lay on the gurney for the administering of the anaesthetic. Peter kissed me gently on the lips and gave my hand a squeeze as the anaesthetist asked me to count to 10. One, two and I was out.

______________________________________

The next thing I remember is waking up groggy and confused. I felt a great degree of pain in my crotch and there were tubes coming from my crotch area and my hand. I could feel my bladder emptying via a catheter and I wondered how the op had gone. The surgeon came to see me after about an hour and told me that the op had gone very well. He said that there had been plenty of room to create a deep vagina, labia minora and majora and a "very fine" clitoris. 

"One of the best I've ever done!" 

he said proudly smiling at me.

He explained that I would be in pain for a while. With the vaginoplasty they had tunnelled in deep beneath my pubic bone and for this reason I would need painkillers for a little longer than usual. But it would be worth it, he explained, as I should have an operational vagina within 6 months. In the meantime I could use pethadine self –administered by my bed. As he was talking to me Peter came in and spoke to the surgeon. I heard Peter asking him when we could do "it" and the surgeon laughed saying that he would have to wait; I had had a major operation; and a lot depended on how the vagina developed post-surgery. 

I lay in bed most of the time. When the nurses changed the dressing I could not really see what had been created. It looked a bloody mess, swollen and red. After a week I was released from the hospital. I still felt pain between my legs but it was gradually lessening. I still took oral painkillers and antibiotics for home, and I was issued with a series of dilators. The dilators would help my vagina turn into a proper tunnel without closing up. The surgeon told me to use them regularly, diligently, and strictly as this was the key to a successful sex change. On his last examination of me on the day I left the hospital he told me that it really had gone very well and he was confident that I would have a sensitive functioning vagina able to enjoy good sexual intercourse.

Peter drove me home and seemed ecstatic. He held the car door open for me as we arrived home and helped me up the steps as I walked gingerly to our front door. At the door he asked me to stop and lifted me up over the steps into our home. He brought me into the living room and lay me down while he went to make me a cup of tea. I was being well looked after. I could tell he was horny as well: he asked me when we would be able to fuck. I could not really answer as I myself did not know but I explained that the doctor had said about 6 months but could be sooner. That night I sucked Peter off for hours. I felt he had a new dominance over me. I no longer had a penis. I had been permanently emasculated and feminised for him and I was enjoying that he liked me as a woman now to use as he wanted. And there was something more complete to me now that I had been gelded for him. I loved the fact that he had the dick now and I had lost mine. It seemed more natural.

After a week we were back to having anal sex. Hard, deep and sometimes brutal, Peter was now completely in charge of me. Now, if I asked him to slow down he would not. He seemed to think it his right to fuck me hard even when I was objecting. I was sometimes a little afraid of him. I felt I had no choice but to serve him now and I think he knew that. He also seemed frustrated that my vagina was taking time to develop.

"Keep using them dilators."

Peter told me.

And I did. Every day, religiously. For the first few months I had no sensation at all down there and I was concerned that the op had failed. The surgeon entreated me to have patience as the nerves took time to heal. So I carried on, gradually using larger dilators. After the third month I started to feel a little more when I dilated my pussy. At first very slight, the sensation grew each day. By the 4th month there was a definite increase of pleasure when I dilated with the dildo and on about day 120 I experienced my first little orgasm. It was small but a definite feeling of lightness and shuddering. Of course it helped that I was looking at Peter in the shower at the time, his long pendulous black organ and heavy balls swinging back and forth as he showered himself. But that moment was a benchmark in my journey to become Peter's woman.

One night shortly after, as Peter was fucking my ass he reached down to my pussy and asked if it was ready yet. I was apprehensive as I was worried about him damaging me, particularly as he fucked me so aggressively and I explained that I thought it would be soon. He asked if he could lick my pussy and, thinking that he could not do too much damage, I agreed. I lay on my back and felt his bearded chin gently licking my clitoris and labia. There was no doubting I loved it. He was an expert pussy licker – I could tell he loved women – and his gentle nibbles and caresses with his tongue gave me enormous pleasure. So much so that I orgasmed the moment his tongue entered my pussy. My back arched and I screamed:

"Peter!"

as his long tongue invaded me. He didn't stop. He buried his face into my pussy holding my legs apart with his strong arms. Wave after wave of ecstasy spasmed through me. I was overjoyed. So was he. After an hour of intense licking me out he positioned himself kneeling at my pussy, his erect angry dick at my opening.

"I don't know Peter. It's maybe too early."

I said.

"Relax. I will go slowly."

he whispered. I was now so sexually worked up that I didn't want to say no. Peter held his dick with his right hand gently rubbing my clitoris and lips, his precum moistening my pussy so that it glistened. He applied some lube and gradually pushed his dick with more force, rubbing it firmly around my new labia. I was loving it and lay back moaning. He was getting me used to his dick being at my pussy entrance. Nothing though could prepare me for what happened next.

I looked down and saw the head of his dick at my pussy entrance. Still held with his hand, Peter would insert a little and then withdraw rubbing his cock around my clit. Gradually he inserted more of his dick so that it was inserted without guidance from his hand. With 2 inches in, I looked nervously at him, but he smiled and pushed a little further in. By now he had gotten deeper into me than his tongue earlier in the evening, and I was not sure if I could take it. But I could. And he knew it as well. He slowly worked his full length into me, so that he lay on top of me missionary style. I remember thinking how different it felt to my ass when he penetrated me. I could feel the heat and rigidity of his dick deep inside me in a way I had not been able to with anal penetration. He lay still on top of me and asked:

"How does that feel Chrissy?"

And in truth it was the most wonderful thing I have ever felt. I felt his invasion of me, deep, hot and personal. I felt his complete domination of me, his complete control and maleness. I felt I was part of him.

""It's wonderful Peter!" I said.

And I was crying with happiness. I was now a woman. His woman. And I could satisfy him sexually with what he wanted. He kissed me very tenderly and said:

"This pussy feels great. It's tight and hot."

And we kissed long and hard. At one stage he lifted his head and I could see him with spit on his mouth. I opened my mouth and let it drop into me greedily swallowing his DNA. Seeing that, he started fucking me slowly at first. Words cannot describe the pleasure I felt as his 14 inch black manhood stretched my pussy, the head of his dick hitting the extremes of my deeply moulded vagina. With my hands on his ass I felt his powerful thrusts start jack hammering into me. My nails, long and varnished, pressed into his ass cheeks drawing blood as he fucked me, turning me into his fully functioning woman. He did not care of the pain from my nails in his ass as he was equally enthralled with the sex. He had a look of intense concentration as he ploughed away on top of me. I shuddered orgasm after orgasm until finally he came. Again I remember the heat of his cum as he ejaculated deep inside of me. I could actually feel jets of his sperm hitting my pussy as he came, violent erratic shudders coursing through his body. And he came and came still on top of me as he emptied his balls. Slowing down he still lay on top of me as his orgasm waned. I don't think his dick left my pussy for around 4 hours that night. We fucked in many different positions. He loved me sitting astride him as he played with my tits. I loved it when he fucked me doggy, hard and fast, using me like a dirty slut as he held onto my hips, his dick anchoring in and out like a piston.

And from that moment on we have enjoyed a healthy sex life as man and woman. I am now able to function sexually as a woman; I look and dress like a woman; and I behave like a woman. I think in retrospect I could not have started this journey without someone as dominant as Peter. He was always "large and in charge" in a way that allowed me, or rather commanded me to take on a subservient feminine role. I didn't know it was in me until I met him but he brought it out of me. When I look at myself in the mirror most mornings I see a woman whose hair is messed up with smudged lipstick and mascara. Peter's cum is dripping out of my pussy and I sometimes look tired and used. It is a long way since I was a young man on the gay scene. But I am happy. Deliriously happy and I know I have taken the right path in life. I am Peter's woman now and I have made the change to make him happy.



Losing My Maleness To Become A Girl Ch. 04



Lots of people have written to me since the first three chapters of my transformation story. And rather than write to each person individually I thought I should try to answer some of the questions asked in one go. So here you are.

Do I really feel like a woman?

The simple answer is yes. I have the body and shape of a woman. I stand naked in front of a mirror and see my long hair resting on my slender shoulders, fulsome breasts with nice brown aureoli, wide hips, a pussy and long smooth legs. So my natural appearance is of the female species. When I make love with Peter I feel like a woman. He penetrates me; he invades me; he dominates me; he controls me; his body is hard, strong and muscular; mine by comparison is softer, more limber and slender. I feel an urge to let him enter me, to let him fuck me, to release his seed into me. Often when we make love I find myself with my hands on his ass as he fucks me missionary. I find myself pushing him into me with as much force as I can, wanting him to enter my core, to let his spirit into me, to make me part of him. That urge, so powerful and natural in me is my feminine soul and that I can fulfil that meaningfully with a beautiful hung black man, having transformed for him, gives me happiness. Sometimes in the morning I look at myself in the mirror after a night with Peter. My hair looks dishevelled, my makeup is smudged, my pussy is slightly red and dripping with Peter's cum and I think I look a real mess. But as I shower and rejuvenate I think to myself that this is the lot of many women. We are there to be fucked and inseminated by men and if we lose our gloss in the process it's fine. It's not as if we don't get pleasure from it. And there's plenty we can do to keep ourselves looking good. Access to the female beauty industry is another perk!

How did your family react?

Not so good. My parents are no longer with us. But I have siblings. One of my brothers called me a monster, which upset me very much and I don't see him any more. When my sisters saw me after the op I could feel that they thought I was a stranger to them but now they are fine. One sister, a bit of a feminist, came to stay and saw how I fussed over Peter bringing him drinks and food when he asked. When he asked me for a Coke as we watched the football game, she was about to tell him to go get it himself but I stopped her. I said I was happy to do it for him: it made me feel useful for him. She relented but I could tell she thought I was too much under his thumb. One night Peter was fucking me very very hard and the bed was bashing against the wall. I screamed in ecstasy at one point. In the morning when I was making my sister coffee she told me she had heard us and she could tell I had a good sex life. We laughed and from that point we became more like sisters. We shop together and she helps me choose clothes. After the majority of my life as a man, ladies' clothing was a whole new world. And she introduced me to some good on-line stores that she used herself. We see each other at Thanksgiving and Christmas. Strangely, Peter's family have been more accommodating of me. Perhaps because they did not know me as a male, they treat me like a woman. Or maybe they are just respectful of Peter's choice in me. I have been to Nigeria for one of Peter's cousin's weddings where I was dressed in traditional womens' clothing - Ankara Cloth - colourful and vibrant. Many of the men ogled at me and smiled. Some tried to dance with me, Peter did not allow though. But I felt welcome and part of their gathering. The night of that wedding, Peter gently made love to me whispering in my ear that he was proud of me. We were under a fan with a mosquito net over the bed and as he fucked me I remember thinking how happy and complete he made. Although the love-making was gentle he was still deep inside me. And as he ejaculated hot African gism into my year old pussy, I remember thinking he is my family now, and I am with his people. 

Does your pussy really feel like a vagina?

That's a hard question to answer because I never had one before. But Peter is happy with it. He always says how tight and hot it is. I think his constant fucking stops me needing to use the dilators. If he didn't fuck me so regularly perhaps I would need more dilatory assistance but for the time being there's no need and my dilators lie unused. In any event Peter's dick is larger in length and girth than the largest of the dilators so I feel I have gone beyond them. When he is inside me I can feel him. I can feel the heat and the hardness of his cock. I love it when he rubs the head of his penis at my opening. I love feeling the precum of his cock moistening my clitoris. I love the expansion of my vagina as he fills it with his manhood. I love the feeling of his skin against my inner canal. And I can actually feel his cum when he ejaculates. So yes it does feel real to me, and it feels real to Peter. I keep it douched, clean and perfumed and it is certainly a giver of pleasure to both me and Peter.

Peter seems very domineering. Does he ever hurt you?

He has slapped me once and I feel now that he was right to do so. Although violence is very rarely acceptable I understood afterwards why he had hit me. We had been at a Nigerian friend's house and one of Peter's friends had cracked a joke about white girls being sluts. One of the girls there (Nigerian) had agreed and looked at me, and I had looked embarrassed and asked Peter if we could go. He took me out of the room and slapped me. I was shocked and wondered what it was for. He told me that I should stand up for myself and respect myself and not let people like that get to me. And of course he was right, as always. So I went back in to that room and we stayed and I got over my embarrassment and the girl warmed to me and we had a good evening. Driving home, Peter told me not to let people hurt me, and to stand up for myself and he was sorry for the slap. Oddly though he was savage in bed that night, fucking me doggy with my head pushed down on the pillow and holding my hips tightly as he pummelled into me. Long deep and fast strokes in my ass and pussy. He would thrust forward burying his dick as he pulled my hips onto him, then hold it there letting me feel his dick right in my deepest core, then pull out briefly to thrust back in again.

"Feel this dick Chrissy"

he said and I felt he was teaching me a lesson - that the only person who could use me (in that complicated way that fucking is almost disrespectful/invasive of the fuckee) - was him. I loved it. I loved him. I wanted him to own me and the deep respect I felt for him made me love him more.

Personality Changes?

Definitely. The reader can tell I am completely submissive now. I basically do as I am told by Peter. He decides when I go out, who I see. He even tells me what to wear. I seem to have slipped into this role willingly and happily. But now if I am out shopping on my own I find I cannot make a decision without thinking:

"What would Peter do?"

Such that I am almost pathetic without him. If I am with him I am happy. If alone, indecisive and uncertain. This may be partly the hormones I still take which can give me emotional imbalances. But it's also the loss of my dick. It's funny that they say men's heads are in their dicks. Without my dick I lost some confidence, some assuredness that is only made whole when Peter was around. I find I think about him ALL the time. I am lost without him. So in summary, a loss of confidence and deference to Peter. I have also become more feminine in my behaviour and actions. This seems to have been an entirely natural development not as a result of artifice. Of course in the early days Peter was telling me to sit down on the loo, or sit with my legs crossed. But I found that the very clothes women wear commend themselves to a certain kind of gracefulness and graciousness and I became more feminine in my behaviour as a result.

Which locker room do you go to?

The ladies, of course! And I have never been asked or questioned at any stage. I am a completely passable woman.

Before when you had a dick, you must have enjoyed using it. Don't you miss it?

No not at all. In fact there was an unexpected but now seemingly quite natural development a year after the operation. Now that there was only one dick in our love-making, that dick assumed a greater importance. Of course, Peter was always the large dicked top but when I lost my dick I tended to find that I worshipped his all the more. I loved to give him blow jobs; I loved burying my nose in the creases of his testicles breathing in his scent as I licked his large hairy balls, working my way up and down his erect pleasure shaft as he held on to my hair with both hands. He would lie on his back as I kneeled between his legs licking and slurping on his beautiful 14 inch black veinous cock. It was almost as if by treating his dick worshipfully I hoped that he would not damage me too much with it. I remember once I was straddling Peter's cock cowboy style, riding him up and down, willing gravity to push him deep inside me. He had one finger in my ass, which he liked to lube up for later. I was kissing him full on, his long tongue invading my mouth, as we gently bit each others lips. And with his other hand he was teasing my tits. I could not have been in more intimate direct contact with him. All my holes were filled with him and the warmth of our bodies and the excitement of just being almost as one, were heavenly. I pondered for a moment whether I wanted my dick back, and I knew then that I didn't. The devotion and attention that I could give to Peter's was markedly better after the op, and the natural fitting together of a man (even a humongous one like Peter) and a woman seemed to me the most perfect union on earth. Peter's manliness also makes for me the act of love making one of devotion. I never tire of seeing him hold his dick at my vulva and slowly push himself home so that our pubes are touching. I never tire of his taste, his scent, his aggression in bed. For me it is now so natural to be fucked for hours and hours by him that I miss it if he stops after an hour. 

Do you like wearing women's clothing?

I love it. The whole lot. Hot pants, sheer nylons, skintight denims, blouses, heels. In an earlier part of this journey I informed of the purchase by Peter of Victoria's Secret underwear. And he still does it. Sometimes, when he is horny, he will bring a VS bag home and tell me to go put it on. I will go shower, soften my skin and perfume myself and try on the new VS. I love having breasts now, as they fill out the cup of the bra. And having a pussy means I can pull the panties over my mound and they sit more naturally than when I was bedicked. Even as I put them on I feel a hardening in my clitoris as I know Peter love fucking me in VS. He has a pair of black PVC boots for me and he loves it when he fucks me missionary and the heels of my boots dig into his bare ass. Outside of the bedroom I am attractive in all sorts of clothes. If we are going to the mall, Peter will sometimes throw an item at me and tell me to wear it, saying I look good in it. I hold his arm as we walk around and I know he feels proud of me. I look good in jeans and a white shirt. I have just a few items of jewellery and I sometimes wear a necklace and ear-rings - but nothing too flash. I know as well that if Peter sees another guy eying me up he is pleased - I guess I am something of a trophy for him

Will you get married?

I have already changed my surname to Peter's. I would be happy to get married although we are OK as we are. I love smelling of Peter. There is something primevil in this I know - it's like a dog that fucks a bitch and she takes on his scent so that other dogs know not to touch her. But I can smell Peter on me all the time from his sweat and his cum. He is in me all the time. Often we will go for a walk after love-making and his sperm is still in my slowly pussy. Sometimes I will out a dilator in using it as a barrier, just to keep Peter's cum there. I swallow his cum daily and so it's like a constant taste in my mouth. So in that sense I am his and his alone. Marriage may be on the horizon but I am in no hurry in case it changes the dynamic between us. I am undoubtedly now his. Not many girls are lucky enough to receive 14 pleasurable inches of very hot hard black cock on a daily basis and I accept it's not for every girl. But by some divine intervention I have gone on this path and am deliriously happy and fulfilled. My position as Peter's woman is conditional of course. I must obey him. I must fuck when he wants to. I perform all the domestic duties of a wife - like cooking cleaning and laundry. But I understand my place and in return I am pleasured to immeasurable ecstasy for about four or five hours of each day.