Triple-Tryst

CHAPTER THREE—A Transformation

As I left that large, comfortable spread of sheets and blankets, comforters and pillows, and padded up the hall it was as though I was leaving one world and entering another. The fuck-frenzy that I'd woken up to was more or less calmed now; I was simply myself, naked and barefoot, going to take a shower.

Where was dad though? It was the weekend and he didn't work on the weekends. I glanced in his open bedroom door as I walked by, didn't see him. Shrugging, I continued down to the end of the hall and went into the bathroom.

It was so familiar! Even a year away from this place—our home—hadn't removed the memories. I closed the door and locked it, then smiled to myself and unlocked it. There would never be any need to fear

being interrupted

again. The thought of sitting on the toilet and masturbating, and then having either Meg or Courtney—or even my dad—walk in, made me smile. It would be wonderful if that happened. Not like before.

I ran the shower and rummaged around the medicine cabinet for something to shave with. I came up with a couple of unused

Bic

safety razors and took the cover off one of them. I lowered the toilet lid and sat on the fuzzy cover. It felt nice against my bare ass, but then I remembered something else that felt nice against that same place.

Dad's slamming thighs and crotch!

My prick stiffened a little, even after all it had been through these past hours. I took a breath and sighed, and then crossed one leg over the other and ran my hand up my shin.

Stubbly. Ever since I started shaving my body and legs, I'd become disgusted of hair—anywhere. Idly I ran the razor up my leg and then touched that now-hairless strip of skin. That was the way I wanted it. That was the way I wanted to always be—smooth and soft—all over.

Steam started billowing out of the shower stall and I got up with my razor and stepped into the tub. I let the water hit me right in the chest and sighed from how good it felt. There was nothing like it for sure. I turned and wet my back, the leaned my head back to wet my hair. I'd begun growing my hair out and had started to enjoy the feeling of it touching the middle of my shoulders.

Drenched now, I took the bar of soap—the same brand we'd always used—and lathered my face. I pulled the shaving mirror closer to me; it was one of those mounted on the criss-cross hinges. I started to shave my face, but really took my time. I wondered if I'd see the

girl in the mirror

again, and after a few moments, I knew I already was.

But to be like that—like my two darling sisters (who were probably still locked in sixty-nine out there!)—maybe was more than I knew. Maybe I really wasn't like that. Maybe I was simply 'gay.'

But I'd never been interested in men—at all. Still shaving with one hand, I reached behind me and pressed a finger to my bung-hole. It still seemed sensitive, almost sore. I reached up and rubbed a bit of soap on my fingertip and again touched it to my hole. I pushed and my finger slipped in. The waves of sensation and memory and pleasure that went through me made me blank out for a moment. I finally had to blink all those thoughts away and continue shaving. But as I pulled my finger out, there was a gurgling inside me. I sudden had to

go,

and though I was dripping wet and had soap still running down my face, I got out of the shower, lifted the toilet lid and sat down. A moment later my bowels moved. My body shivered in the pleasure of that relief. I wiped myself and stood to flush, but noticed there was really nothing in the water except some drops and strings of whitish matter.

Dad's goo!

I stared at the evidence of what had happened the previous night and as the memories fluttered through my mind, my prick started to lift again. I finally had to shake my head to clear it, and then flushed and went back into the shower.

Gay. Was I? I'd been with a man, but

as

a woman more or less. I remembered how powerful dad had been, ramming his oversized dick into my ass, and how his thrusting had finally brought me off all over my belly. My penis was fully erect now, dripping with water from the hot shower. I reached down and ran my fingers over and under it, feeling the stubble even there. I would get to that later. But then I imagined one of the handsomest, hunkiest guys on campus—a real male model type—and instantly my prick began to sag. I tried to imagine having him on top of me, fucking my ass just as dad had done, but...it was a complete turn-off!

What was it then?

Then I started to think of my sisters and how eager they were to make love to each other—and of course, how

good

they were at it! But they'd made love to me too. A male, who'd felt quite vigorous and 'masculine' at the time.

And then I remembered the first part of the night when they'd come into my room. I'd been feeling so completely female with them, and they hadn't minded even that.

So what were they?

I finished shaving my face and lathered up my underarms and started there.

But continuing my train of thought, it seemed to me that I was more like a woman—inside—even though I had a male body. If that were true, and there were such things as 'transgendering,' then if I had a female...

spirit

inside me, inside a male body, then I would be attracted to men. A female wanting a male—that kind of energy.

But why would I want to be with a woman at all?

I continued lathering myself and shaving. My nipples now.

I began to think about gays, homosexuals. It seemed that the 'real' homosexuals were men who were attracted to men; the 'manly' spirit in one another. They loved to look manly and desired a partner who was also manly. There was nothing female about either. And then there were gay couples in which one was the 'man' and the other was effeminate. That seemed to be another type of gayness if that's what it's called. Then there were men who were almost completely women, and tended to dress like that. They nearly always wanted to be with men.

So many types and subtypes of homosexuality!

And it was the same with women I supposed. I thought to call the womanly women who were attracted to other womanly women 'true' lesbians, just as the manly men attracted to other manly men could be called 'true' gays. No manly aspects in the lesbians and no womanly aspects in the gays.

But where did I fit?

I lathered my abdomen and crotch and began to shave. I stared down to make sure I didn't nick anything, but my mind continued its 'conversation.'

Maybe there was more than 'A woman trapped in a man's body,' or 'A man trapped in a woman's body.' I've even heard jokes—almost a cliché now—about being 'A lesbian trapped in a man's body!'

But what would that be like?

The 'spirit' of a lesbian, meaning a woman attracted to other women, contained in a male physique. If I were like that, I would 'feel' more womanly but be attracted to other women. Outwardly it would be a 'normal' relationship; man and woman. But, 'being' female in spirit, I would be attracted to another woman

as

a woman.

But what about 'A gay man trapped in a woman's body?' If Meg or Courtney were like that, she would be attracted to men, but

as

a man—like a 'true homosexual man' would. She'd maybe love sucking dick and drinking come, or engaging in anal sex more than the other way. Outwardly it would be a woman with a man, but she, being a

man

inside would desire her mate as a gay man would.

My cock was lifting because I was holding it while shaving around the base. I took care to shave my balls and beneath—where my pussy would be if I were a chick.

And then my thoughts wandered to bisexual people. There were male bisexuals and female bisexuals. They would technically be the same, except they had either one type of body or the other. But being in one type of body might let their two-sided spirit relate more; in other words a male bisexual might actually 'feel' male most of the time as a default value, and then 'swing' the other way when the opportunity presented itself. Same with female bisexuals.

But what if, the

bisexual spirit

was also something that could somehow be 'misplaced?' If it were possible to be 'a woman in a man's body,' or 'a lesbian in a man's body,' why couldn't there also be 'a male bisexual in a man's body' or 'a female bisexual in a man's body?'

Different levels and combinations of the same thing!

Now I turned the shower water away to the wall and lathered my left thigh. I began stroking the razor upward, making my skin smooth and silky again.

If I were 'a female bisexual spirit trapped in a male body,' then I would...lean more towards being female (inside), but desire men and women. Again I tried to think of a manly-man who I would consider going to bed with, and couldn't think of any. Not movies stars or guys I'd seen on campus—nothing. On the other hand there were plenty of pretty women I could imagine making love to—but...

as

a woman.

I had to admit however, that I'd really enjoyed balling my two sisters. I'd been quite 'male' about it too. On the other hand, I wanted to be with them as my 'other self' too!

Then I thought of the semen in the toilet water and I couldn't get beyond it until I realized that dad wasn't just 'any' man. There was a certain other 'thing' there between us because we were related. Just like it was with my sisters. Had he been any other guy, I might not have done what I'd done with him, but since I'd done it, and there'd been proof, then I started to realize that maybe I was more like 'a bisexual woman trapped in a man's body;' womanly inside, but not opposed to sleeping with either male or female.

And it was similar with my sisters. They'd—we'd—all been there on all fours, lined up in a row while dad had fucked us up the ass. I'd loved it, but Courtney and Meg hadn't complained either. They were more like 'female bisexuals within female bodies.'

I squatted down to shave the back of my thigh and my ass cheek on that side, and also around my ass-hole. I loved being smooth

everywhere!

Rinsing the razor out in the streaming shower water, I continued shaving, then redid my knee, and stood to lather up my calf and my the top of my foot.

But what if I did just what I wanted to do and not be controlled by what happened to be 'available?' I thought of a scenario with Ken, my hairy roommate. On a desert island with no one else there, would I turn 'girl' on him?

Maybe.

But that would assume he had any degree of gayness in him to accept me, with a cock and balls, as a woman. But same scenario with a cute woman, it would be no problem.

And what about my dad? Was he gay? Bisexual? I wondered.

I remembered him talking to me and treating me as a woman. There wasn't a time when he did otherwise. But why didn't he just fuck Courtney and Meg then? Why me?

I finished my shins and the backs of my calves and knees, squatted down and shaved the top of my foot and my toes. Finished, I stood and started doing the same thing on my other leg.

Dad...a man's body, but which type of spirit inside? A male? Yes, but not a gay male. He was too appreciative of the female form—especially of my sisters! And he thought of me as 'female' so he wasn't a 'true' gay male, and not a 'female trapped in a man's body' because he would desire males as a female would.

A 'lesbian trapped in a man's body' perhaps!

Either way I felt more like I knew why I was so different. I shaved my thigh, my ass-cheek, around my bung-hole on the other side, my knee and lower leg and foot. I stood finally and rinsed off, turned off the shower and dried myself. I felt better now—not only because I was once again freshly shaved and smooth, but because things were starting to make sense. I found a little aftershave and applied it all over, felt the sting and waited for it to fade. Usually I use regular rubbing alcohol so there's no scent, but this smelled nice. I stood there airing out for a few moments, then opened the door and stepped out into the cool of the hall.

Stopping for a moment I listened to what—if anything—was going on in the living room. I heard one of my sisters moaning and groaning. No, it was more of a series of grunts—really haggard and raspy sounding. I wondered what my other sister was doing to her to get that sound to come out of her?

But it didn't matter. I actually didn't feel a need to know. That was a far away world, out of sight and almost out of earshot, and I was here in my own space, feeling pretty good about myself. Good and light, and...like 'a lesbian with slight heterosexual tendencies contained (not trapped) in a male body!' I almost laughed at the description. I turned down the hallway and headed back toward the living room, but not to rejoin the activities. I actually thought of food, and the kitchen was right there adjacent the living room. Somehow I never made it that far. I was reminded of the night before and how I'd listened to my sisters making out on the other side of my bedroom wall. They'd been in their room—this room.

I stopped and opened my sisters' bedroom door, stepped in and closed it silently. It was cool and dark in there and quiet. The anxious cries of pleasure were really muted now, and it gave the room its own silent, intimate ambience. I glanced at the bed and tried to imagine what had gone on upon it while I'd been eavesdropping. Probably something similar to what I'd already seen! I walked past it and felt drawn to the dresser. I went to it and opened the drawers and felt the urge to bring out some things.

A pair of pretty panties was first. I thought it strange that I'd never before felt the urge to wear women's clothing. Having felt this female side of me being unveiled recently, it was very, very odd that it hadn't come to mind before. But now, without hesitation, I stepped into the panties and pulled them up. They fit perfectly—except for the moderate bulge in the crotch. The silky things felt wonderful against my freshly shaven skin, but now I felt around in the other drawers and brought out other things.

A cute skirt and blouse. I had no boobs so I didn't bother to try on a bra. My sisters aren't particularly busty, but they're not flat either; not quite as flat as I was though. I found some stockings and a garter belt; the pantyhose didn't particularly interest me for some reason. I had an image of some 1940's type woman dressed that way, but it faded out as I started to try and figure out how the damned garter belt worked!

Each piece of clothing I liked, I laid on the bed, and then went back to look for more. I found I think what is called a

camisole,

and slipped that on. Instantly I loved the combination. No blouse or skirt, just this and the panties! But as I thought that, I saw some of Meg or Courtney's shoes—the ones they hadn't brought along to college. I turned that way and went to look.

Amazingly, even our feet are identical! A couple of twins that I've met—male and female—look identical, except for the size of certain things. But Meg, Courtney and I have always been identical in size as well. I slipped on a pretty pair of flats, looked at them in front of the floor mirror, then tried low heels. They looked really much better. They seemed to suit me somehow, or match. Finally, I saw the wig that Meg had to wear when she'd scraped her scalp open before we'd left for college. That had been a pretty messy affair, but now I took the thing down from the shelf in the closet and put it on. I turned and stood before the mirror and in that instant I was someone else!

I sat at the dressing table for quite awhile, applying makeup. I wanted to look the way I remembered from somewhere, maybe from some dream. I smoothed and combed the wig out and put it on, got the garter belt figured out and the stockings smoothed up my hairless legs. I even found a good way to make my cock-bulge invisible; the right amount of surgical tape (leftover from Meg's scalp injury) applied in just the right way. It seemed as though I'd always done this very same thing, and it felt wonderful, exciting and...strangely natural!

When I stood in front of the mirror about twenty minutes later, I really did look like someone from out of the past, but I recognized that person standing there somehow. Turning this way and that I started to smile and then couldn't prevent a happy chuckle from coming out. Whoever I looked like, all I knew was that it was perfect! Not flashy, just a normal woman in a pretty blouse and skirt (both of which I'd finally put on), stockings and low heels—maybe ready to go to the office or something. I turned the other way, sideways to the mirror and noticed my bust line. I'd decided not to try and stuff anything in there because, well, what I didn't have I didn't want to try and provide, but now...now it looked too weird. I searched around in Courtney's drawer, dug deep and finally felt something spongy in there. I brought it out—well, 'they' out—and realized that one of my sisters had at one time or another 'augmented' their chest-size a bit. Not a lot, but some. I stuffed the things in under the camisole, smooshed them around a little, and then stood sideways to the mirror again.

Maybe a 33" bust? But now everything seemed 'correct' somehow. I walked back and forth before the mirror, and then, just like that, opened the door and walked quietly down the hall to the kitchen.

My intent was to just pass by and get something to eat and if anyone saw me, then I'd just make a joke out of it. I mean, obviously I looked like a guy in drag, even though there had been a little something 'else' when I'd looked at myself in the mirror—that memory of someone or something. As I strolled out of the hallway I couldn't help but glance over at where my sisters had last been doing sixty-nine, except now all I could see were two pairs of pretty bare feet pointing up at the ceiling. I couldn't see everything from where I was standing because of the back of the couch, but each pair of feet were pretty far apart and they were all lined up as if Meg and Courtney were laying down side by side. I heard gasping and moaning and felt my cock trying to break free of its restraint, but the tape held fast. I took a step closer and saw more of their legs, then closer and saw their knees, but then I also noticed a hairy back and shoulders and a balding head.

Dad!

I finally stepped off the wood of the hall and onto the carpet behind the sofa. My sisters lay there just as I figured, their legs straight up and open in wide

Vs

and dad, back from I don't know where, knelt right there. He was holding something between each of my sister's legs—one in each hand—and when I heard the soft, muffled humming, I realized they were dildos of some sort—the vibrating kind!

Seeing that made my inside cringe and stretch. I took a breath but breathed out slowly, silently. I stared and smiled. I couldn't help it. My sisters looked like they were in the midst of the most excruciating pleasure imaginable! Their legs were stiff; every muscle could be seen, but they shook at the same time as pleasure pulsed through them both.

Now dad was not only holding the vibrators in my sisters' cunts; he was pushing them in and out, and I felt a little hot and sweaty all over, wishing I were there with them. I didn't know what a vibrating dildo would feel like shoved up my ass, but I would certainly be willing to find out!

Then dad eased the dildos out of them and pulled their legs down. He made them relax a little and then turn on their sides facing each other. I heard him say "It's all right if you kiss and everything..." and my sisters took the invitation and started sucking each other's tongue while their hands began reaching and touching and fondling. Dad waited while Meg's uppermost leg slid over Courtney's hip, and Courtney got comfortable, and then he sneaked the dildos back inside each, and clicked them on.