****** A Question of Choice by Jess Moreau and Sally ******
===============================================================================

A Question of Choice


by Jess Moreau (messalina42@hotmail.com) and Sally (sally34@hotmail.com)

Authors' Note: This story is the property of the authors and was written
EXCLUSIVELY for White Shadow's excellent story site. It can be downloaded for
personal reading pleasure or sending to a friend, but if you wish to re-post
them at your own site, please contact the authors at 'sally34@hotmail.com' for
permission. This story contains strong adult themes and you should read no
further if you find that kind of thing offensive.


A Question of Choice

Leslie was finally going to meet Sam for the first time and was shaking like a
leaf. They had never met -- except, of course, online. The reason that Leslie
was shaking, however, was not that this was their first real life meeting, it
was rather that Leslie knew that Sam was expecting to meet a woman....

Leslie had not set out to deliberately try and deceive Sam. Like other guys
that Leslie had met online, Sam had immediately assumed from his name that he
was a woman. At first Leslie had been annoyed by the mistake that people kept
making. He thought about changing his 'handle' to something more macho; but
then something curious had happened. In anonymous chat rooms he suddenly found
himself the center of attention of groups of men who thought he was the only
woman there. They were charming and courteous and Leslie played, guiltily, at
being 'the only woman', basking in their attention. Soon he had started making
real friends in his female persona. Leslie did not find it that hard to act
like a woman as he was a fairly gentle sort of guy anyway. He played the part
of a shy, flirtatious, intelligent woman, not some brassy slut. He assuaged his
guilt by deciding that it did not matter what sex people thought him as it was
irrelevant online anyway. He'd had one or two crude suggestions of course, and
offerings of cybersex, but it had never appealed to him.

Unlike other men who had come and gone, Sam soon became one of Leslie's firmest
friends. They had become even closer when they realized that they both lived in
the same town. Without fully realizing what he was doing, Leslie gradually
drifted into his female persona with increasing ease. He enjoyed playing the
flirtatiously teasing fem for Sam.

Sam wanted to know more and more about Leslie's life, and so, to keep up his
little fem-charade, Leslie had to learn more about how women did things, how
they thought. To that end he had enlisted the unwitting support of his wife,
Barbara.

Leslie revealed to Sam a lot of details about Barbara's life, claiming them as
his own. To add further authenticity, Leslie began to take more notice of the
makeup his wife used, the clothes she wore, and even the variety of her moods
and how they related to her time of the month. He'd never taken this much
interest in the minutiae of women's things before, and in some ways his
relationship with Barbara improved as he began to appreciate her more. He would
ask her questions about why she wore particular combinations of clothes, her
hairstyles, where she went shopping and what she and her friends were currently
talking about.

Slowly, the online relationship had become more intimate with the anonymity
that the web afforded. Sam became increasingly ardent. Leslie, for his part,
found himself in a relationship emotionally deeper than he had ever had with
anyone, even Barbara. He felt that he could tell Sam everything. Everything,
that is, except his true identity.

Finally Sam said that he wanted to push the relationship to another stage and
actually meet, despite the fact that Leslie had told him that 'she' was
married. Leslie was shocked but delighted -- Sam was clearly infatuated with
the woman that he had created. Leslie was also torn; there was no way he could
actually meet Sam, yet if he refused, Sam would probably abandon their
carefully nurtured relationship. He stalled Sam every way he could think of
until, eventually, sensing his growing impatience, he agreed to meet.

*****

Leslie and his wife had lived around the corner from the bistro for nearly six
years; their entire married life. In the early years the two of them had
frequented it on Saturday nights, almost routinely, but now Leslie could not
remember when they had last been there. Now he found himself here waiting for a
man who thought he was a woman.

Leslie glanced at his watch, something he had sworn to himself he would not do.
12.04. Sam was late, four minutes late. Leslie now felt he had his excuse for
not being there if Sam showed up, albeit a meager one, and decided to leave. He
was too late. A two hundred and sixty pound ex-Alabama linebacker stood in the
doorway. Leslie recognized him immediately from the photos he had sent. Sam's
eyes swiveled this way and that looking for the woman Leslie had described. The
look of disappointment on his face when he did not see her tugged at Leslie's
heart, but what could he do?

Sam came and sat down at a table close to Leslie's, and, like Leslie, faced the
door.

Leslie consoled himself that he had at least had the chance to see his online
lover and now stood to leave. He took a step toward the door but could not
resist turning one last time to face the man with whom he had been so intimate
so many times. As he did, Sam's eyes met his and Leslie could not stop himself
from saying, "Hello Sam."

As Sam looked at him Leslie could see a horrible understanding slowly dawning
on him. Sam might have been a linebacker, but he was not a Neanderthal; he
understood. But understanding and reacting to his understanding were two
entirely different things. He gazed at the diminutive male across from him for
some moments until he finally spoke.

"Please. Don't tell me that YOU are Leslie..."

"Yes. Yes I am. Sorry," admitted Leslie ashamedly.

"'Sorry'! That's all? 'Sorry'?" muttered Sam through gritted teeth. "I should
have fucking known you were too good to be true. What are you, some kind of
queer who gets his jollies from acting like a woman?"

The brutal language Sam used hit home the hideous reality of what he had done.

"I didn't mean to," he said in a quiet voice.

"You didn't mean to? Geez, I'd love to know how you pretend to be a woman all
this time without meaning to," said Sam in a cold, sarcastic tone.

"I can explain Sam, if only you'd give me the chance."

Sam looked very doubtful.

"Please. I owe you this explanation - then you never have to see me again,"
Leslie pleaded.

Sam considered this for some moments then said, "Oh, what the fuck. It's not
like I was doing anything else this afternoon."

"I - I have a place, it's just around the corner. We can talk freely there."

Sam sighed, nodded, then stood and followed Leslie from the Bistro

******

Back at Leslie and Barbara's apartment Leslie tried to explain to Sam what had
happened and how he had come to be impersonating a woman on-line. He tried to
explain that he genuinely liked Sam and had not wanted to end their friendship.
Sam remained skeptical.

"Yeah, well it was more than a 'friendship' to me, buster. I met you for lunch
today totally expecting to be having sex with a gorgeous woman this afternoon
and what do I end up with? Some spineless queer."

"I said I'm sorry. I really am."

"Yeah, well you're gonna be more than sorry. If I'm not gonna get any real
pussy this afternoon, you're gonna have to do."

"W-What do you mean?" gasped Leslie.

"Don't you get it? I'm gonna screw the fuckin' daylights out of you."

"Wha -- wha -- what?"

"I'm gonna jam my cock up your sissy butt while you squirm and wiggle and beg
for more."

The crude language terrified Leslie.

Sam rose but instead of moving towards Leslie he merely went to the kitchen to
get himself a beer. He came back, sipping it and said casually, as though
nothing had happened, "Nice apartment."

Leslie sat, petrified, on the sofa. This was all getting out of hand. Sam had
never been this crude on-line; always the perfect gentleman. Sam picked up the
wedding photo of Leslie and Barbara off the dresser.

"Hmmm, nice looker. I wouldn't mind some of her either."

Leslie sat, mortified.

Sam strolled off, beer in hand towards the bedroom.

When Leslie followed him he found Sam searching through the wardrobe, throwing
garments on to the bed.

"What are you after?" asked Leslie, trying to sound indignant.

"I'm looking for something for you to wear. I want to fuck the woman you
created and so I guess you're gonna have to look the part." He flung a red
satin party dress of Barbara's at him. "Put it on."

"But -- but -- but..."

"But nothing. You play along I'll try to make it nice for you. I know you want
it, or you wouldn't have played those games on the net."

"That's not tr..."

"True? I'll tell you what. If you can give me a real reason why any real man
would do what you did, I'll leave here right now. Well?"

Leslie looked down. Of all of the times in his life when he should have found
himself speechless, this was the least timely.

"That's what I thought," said Sam. "Strip. Right now."

Leslie hesitated, but only momentarily. He began to undress for Sam.

Sam watched critically as Leslie slowly undressed, eyes fixed on the floor. He
was enjoying himself punishing the little queer. He had no real intention of
even touching the little creep. He was angry and wanted to humiliate him.

When Leslie was down to just his undershorts Sam sighed.

"Damn it Leslie, you're just too goddam hairy to be a woman. I can see we're
gonna have to shave before we get you into this dress."

Sam ushered the craven Leslie into the bathroom. Sam turned on the water and
set it for lukewarm. Sam commanded Leslie to remove his final garment and get
in the shower. Apprehensively Leslie pulled down his undershorts and his semi-
stiff cock poked free. Quickly Leslie stepped into the shower and Sam handed
him a razor. Sam commanded him to shave but leave the pubic area for him to do.
When he judged that most of Leslie's body hair had been removed he took the
razor from Leslie and turned him so as to be able to shave his pubic hair. He
raised the ball sac of the soon-to-be-woman and shaved carefully, almost
gently, around the delicate body part. Leslie was unable to prevent his cock
from rising at Sam's gentle ministrations.

Sam let Leslie dry himself off then told him to join him in the bedroom again.
Sam used Barbara's cosmetics to make up Leslie's face; moisturizer, foundation,
blusher, lipstick, eye-shadow, eye-liner, mascara and finally a dab of perfume.
Sam left the room having told Leslie to dress in the clothes he had selected
from Barbara's wardrobe, including the high heels, and put on one of Barbara's
wigs. Leslie, shivering, climbed into the strange garments. He was a small man
and Barbara's clothes fitted him easily, even the heels.

Sam, smug and self-satisfied waited for Leslie's grand entrance. He'd been glad
the little wimp had been so easy to control. But, there was still one test that
his little "girlfriend" still had to face. The door opened and Leslie stepped
through then stood with her hands to her sides looking demurely down. Sam let
loose a muted whistle. Despite himself he found his own cock stirring; Leslie
was looked very pretty -- and petite, just how Sam liked his women. Leslie wore
the red dress, nylons, low black heels, and a red choker. The panty girdle
sufficiently hid any trace of his small but very turgid erection.

Sam was seated on a chair. He was idly tapping one hand with long wooden
clothes brush that he had found. Leslie noticed it immediately.

"What's that for?" Leslie asked in a slightly higher voice than was normal.

"I'm going to punish you; the way a man punishes a girl. You're getting an
over-the-knee spanking. And I don't want my little sissy to cry too much and
mess up all of her make up. Am I clear?"

"Please Sam, don't spank me. I'm no good at pain. Really I'm not."

"Good. Then maybe this will teach you a lesson. Come over her. Don't make me
come and get you."

Leslie -- a look of desperation on his face -- moved mechanically to a spot
next to his punisher.

"Lift your dress."

Leslie obeyed.

"Now lower yourself over my knees."

Leslie hesitated, but did as he was told. He wiggled his bottom -- his girlish
bottom -- into position to accommodate Sam and the wooden-backed brush. Fear
shook his frame and he began to whimper even before Sam had even touched him.
Then, all of a sudden, searing pain shattered his consciousness. Sam repeated
the strokes, spanking his feminized lover many times. Leslie bounced and
shivered and wiggled and whined an sweated. He was hoarse with begging for
mercy; he got none. Sam was exacting a full measure of punishment for his
duplicity.

Finally it was over. Sam rose, lifting the crying fem from his lap and to his
feet. "Go fix your makeup then come back here."

Leslie stumbled into the bedroom sat at the mini-vanity and did as his online
lover told him to do. He quickly restored a semblance of order to himself and
returned to his fate.

Sam said nothing. He took hold of Leslie's arm and led him to the table. He
made Leslie lie over the table, legs spread, then flipped the back of the dress
up over Leslie's hips.

Sam stepped back and gazed at the female proportions of the fem spread wide on
the table in front of him. When he had started this charade he had no intention
of touching Leslie, he just wanted to punish and humiliate him, but now, with
the deliciously feminine butt exposed across the table sending powerful signals
straight to his cock, he could no longer resist. Leslie was such a wimp he was
almost a woman anyway and now Sam intended to make him one. Sam stripped
himself naked from the waist down. A fearsomely long pole waved in front of
him; it was stiff as steel.

Leslie was afraid to look back. He felt his cheeks being spread by the big
man's fingers. Next he felt the head of Sam's penis press at his sphincter. He
tried to relax and accept his fate. He knew that if he resisted he might get
another spanking; he could not endure that again.

"That's right, relax little sissy and get what's coming to you."

Sam pushed more forcefully and Leslie felt his rectum open to accommodate the
invader. Soon Sam's cock was buried deep inside his little fem butt. Sam began
screwing her -- slowly.

Leslie could not believe the pain at first. But oddly, he soon began to relax
and enjoy it. He couldn't believe it. He felt like a girl must feel when she
loses her virginity. Sam was not brutalizing him. He was fucking him slowly,
carefully. He had never felt more fulfilled and whole and knew he was pleasing
his lover the way that he had always wanted to but could never admit to
himself.

Leslie felt the man fucking him stiffen. He thought that Sam must be ready to
shoot his sperm inside him. Like a woman, he wanted it. He wanted to be a
woman, Sam's woman.

******

Barbara had a great deal of difficulty understanding the scene in front of her
after she let herself into the apartment. She'd come home early from work to
change for a dental appointment and heard sounds coming from the living room.
Looking round the door she saw a big stranger making love to a woman across the
coffee table, a woman who was wearing her best party dress. It took her a few
more seconds before she realized that the woman was actually her husband.

"Leslie! My god! What's going on?"

Sam stiffened but looked up from fucking Barbara's husband's ass at her with
not a hint of shame. A smile crept across his face.

"Not bad looking," he said to Leslie, appraising Barbara.

"Leslie!" screeched Barbara, ignoring the big man altogether.

Leslie tried to get up but was pinned across the table by the big man's weight.

"Your husband's been playing little games with me," said Sam, addressing
Barbara, "and now he's being punished, but I see he can offer something far
better than his puny ass. You. Take off your clothes off -- now!"

"What did you say to me?" she half screamed. "Leslie!"

Sam was in control now. He could tell that Barbara was as much a wimp as her
little cross-dressing husband. Sam was sure of his ground.

"Take off all of your clothes, Barbara, and don't give me any trouble," he
said, smiling broadly. This was going to be interesting.

Barbara looked desperately for help from her husband. "Les...?"

"You won't get any help from him." Sam poked Leslie harder, "What do you think,
Leslie girl? Wanna see your bitch get screwed by my nine inch pole?"

Leslie shook his head. He was unable to speak through the shame of his
position.

Sam withdrew his cock from Leslie's ass and Barbara could not help but glance
down at the long glistening organ, so much bigger than the one she was used to.
It looked frighteningly huge. Sam walked towards her as she stood, mesmerized.
He planted his lips on hers. Barbara tried to fight him off but with his mouth
pressed firmly to hers he tore off her top and bra as if they were paper and
began to maul one small breast with his free hand.

Leslie looked up at the violation of his wife and felt too ashamed to move.
Sam's big fingers thrust easily down into Barbara's skirt and under her
panties. One finger found the entrance to her slit and began thrusting there.
Barbara tried to buck away but he simply pressed her against a wall and pushed
his fingers deeper.

It wasn't too difficult to get the skirt and panties off then he pushed her
down on the floor on her knees and got his cock pressed up between her thighs.
Barbara, now at eye-level with Leslie who was still lying motionless on the
table, screamed for him to help her but he only looked down in shame.

Leslie felt totally humiliated. Sam clearly held him in contempt. This was all
his fault. He lay there, half-woman, his virginity gone, helpless as his wife
was about to be fucked by another man. Worse yet, he was as hard as he had ever
been waiting to see it happen. He was not empathizing with Sam though, he was
imagining that Sam was treating him the way that he was treating Barbara.

Sam's right index finger traced the crack of Barbara's butt. He spread her
cheeks to see better. Her anus was as pink as her nipples. The sphincter was a
darker shade of pink with the tiniest of brown rings surrounding her actual
hole. She had a very alluring secret place. Her woman hole was fleshy and also
very pink. She smelled wonderful to Sam.

He took a firm hold on Barbara's hips and pressed his penis against her pussy
lips. As he pressed harder he felt himself slip within her. Barbara, still
resisting, wiggled a little to allay the discomfort of his initial thrusts. As
she did so he drove powerfully into her. She grunted involuntarily with the
pain and surprise.

The big man slowly began screwing the diminutive woman. Despite herself,
Barbara actually found herself beginning to enjoy the sensation as Sam kept up
his slowly paced in and out thrusting. Barbara was a woman who found it
relatively easy to achieve orgasm; Sam was making it even easier. He had
reached around her miniature torso and had seized a teenagerish breast in each
of his giant paws. He massaged her nipples ruthlessly. A powerful, physically
felt connection between her breasts and her pussy was achieved; a feeling that
only a woman in the throes of mating with a very dominant male could achieve.
Her female nature, at the most animalistic of levels, took over her conscious
being. She grunted and sweated and pushed back to demand more strength and more
punishment from the monstrous penis violating her. "Oh god," she uttered as he
pounded her with the fury of a bull driven mad with lust.

Leslie watched the show with rapt attention as Sam drove in and out of his
wife's pussy. He thought that Sam must be hurting her, but she seemed to be
helping him do her.

"Do it harder, do it faster," he heard her say. He saw Sam slam her so hard
that she would have flown across the room save for his hands tightly clutching
her breasts. Finally the two stiffened, as with electric shock, almost
simultaneously. Barbara spewed her female juices out just as Sam's sperm washed
her insides; squishy noises attended the fact. Barbara sank to the floor in a
fetal position mooing as Leslie had never seen her.

"That, Leslie girl, is how you screw a woman," said Sam, straightening.

*******

Leslie knelt beside his wife. He helped her up and she let him.

"He's gone," he said.

She nodded and looked up into his eyes, his soul.

"Why didn't you ever say anything?" Barbara said.

"I need to tell you that?" answered Leslie.

"No. I suppose I understand," she said.

"I'm not sure I understand it myself. I wasn't being unfaithful to you, you
know."

"I believe you. And yet, you were with someone else -- a man."

"It was like a dream. I played word games on the internet, that's all. Then -
- one day -- all of a sudden -- it became a reality."

"Do you like dressing like that? I mean really like it?" she asked him.

"Yes," he admitted, "and when I was screwed -- I liked that too. I must be bi-
sexual. I'm just not sure. I think I'm afraid to believe it could be true. Yes,
that's it. I'm afraid it might be true."

"You know, Leslie, in college, I made love to girls."

The look on Leslie's face was only equaled by the wild turmoil in his head.
"What?"

"I experimented -- with a friend. I thought it was really hot at the time. But,
then I met you."

"You met me? What does that mean?"

"Yes. It means, my little man, that I saw in you the perfect man for me. On the
gentle side, no threat to me, and very good looking. You were perfect -
- gentle. But don't fret, I like you like that."

"I don't understand? Like what?"

"You are submissive. And I like that. From now on I'm going to let you wear
panties. And sometimes we're gonna play girls together then sometimes I'm gonna
play the guy and you're gonna be the girl and I'm gonna fuck you. Have any
problem with that?"

She could see by the grin on his face that he had no problem whatsoever with
that. Barbara smiled her most winning smile and led him off to the shower.

What she didn't tell him was that she had also decided to include Sam in her
plans somehow too....

END