A Fly on the Wall.

by Ganymede

A Fly on the Wall is the story of Savannah Martin, a ten-year-old fashion model, and the journey to change gender. With surgery in Mexico depending on meeting certain conditions, the responsibility falls on Grampa.


To read the rest of the story, click here: Contents

To read other Ganymede stories, click here: Ganymede

Copyright 2019

The responsibility falls on you, the reader, to support Nifty.

It’s easy, safer than using a condom, and personally satisfying.

Why let others pay the bills for your thrills?



Vignette < < < Does fucking hurt, Grampa? > > >


“Does fucking hurt, Grampa?”

In a momentary gut-churning panic, Frank Martin gulped air, feeling like a guppy out of water.

His next thought, ‘Thank God, Karen was picking wildflowers.’

“Um. Ah.. Um…” He stalled, curiosity slowly replacing shock. “I think that’s something you and your mom should talk about.”

“I already did. She said it depends. Does it hurt?”

He turned in his seat to make sure mom wasn’t already on the way back. Karen was 200 yards away, and headed up the ridge, snapping photos with her iPhone. Southern Arizona didn’t get any prettier than mid-April, ragweed not included. Catclaw Acacia, purple-pink Brownfoot, Scarlet Pimpernel, a dozen Milkweed species, spectacular Indian Paintbrush. Where she was going was a wildflower meadow; she would be gone an hour, if not longer.

Frank settled back in aged fawn leather, stretching shoulders, resisting a pressing urge to snuggle with Savannah. His run-around SUV looked like something from the wrong side of town. It was time to trade, and he still hadn’t opened the owner’s manual. Maybe one of the new Jeep Grand Cherokees, not because it was any better than the other brands; he knew the dealer in Tucson.

Finally, he shook his head. “Your mom would’ve told you more than ‘it depends.’ I think someone’s too embarrassed to ask her.”

Savannah made a face at him, nose scrunched, cheeks distorted, her mouth misshapen, her zombie impression.

“Now, that’s a real pretty face, for a sea hag.”

Savannah erupted in giggles. “You said you’d always answer my questions, no matter what, Grampa.”

“You know what’s involved, right?”

“Fucking is when a man puts his penis inside a woman’s vagina.”

It sounded like something Karen might say, age appropriate and straightforward, the clinical version of heterosexual intercourse. With Savannah sitting down and actually paying attention, Grampa went for whole enchilada, romantic and idealistic.

“Fucking is for pleasure, not because you’re in love. Joining your bodies together should never hurt.”

He was about to move on to anatomical matters, but he could tell from wandering eyes that she already knew that part of it. A kid didn’t parade on the runway with the denizens of New York’s fashion industry, and see what went on in the changing rooms without losing every inhibition. Now, she wanted more, a lot more.

“Well, that’s the usual way, Sanny. You tell me where you heard it, and I’ll tell you why it might hurt.”

“Mickey said it hurts.”

Mickey, again; he should’ve known. He scratched behind his ear. Still, it was best to make sure.

He was about to ask what Mickey said, exactly, when Savannah blurted out, “Is it still fucking if it goes in your mouth?”

“Well, that’s another way of showing love, but it really isn’t fucking. Unless you bite, it shouldn’t hurt.”

Savannah bared brilliant white teeth, clicking jaws like a snapping turtle. “I promise I won’t bite too hard, Grampa.”

“Don’t push your luck, Sanny.”

She giggled. “I mean when we kiss with our tongues.”

Unexpected, yet expected; she was always unrestrained. He smiled. Direct, shameless, outgoing, occasionally wanton; that was Savannah. Once she figured out what she could do with her little pink tongue, there was no stopping.

“Making love usually starts with kissing. To actually make love, I’d have to put my penis inside you.”

“So fucking?”

“Fucking.”

“So it’s only fucking if your penis goes inside my vagina,” Savannah mused. “When I get one,” she appended with an uneasy giggle.

“It could also go in your butt, and still qualify.” An instant later was too late to hit the brakes. “I shouldn’t have said that, Sanny. It’s what gays do to join themselves together.”

Savannah thought about it some more. “Mickey said her bottom hurt.”

Frank sought safety in clinical fact, instead of satisfying curiosity.

“There’s a muscle inside that has to stretch so a penis can fit. That’s what hurts, Sanny. Once you’re used to it, it feels nice.”

Savannah nodded sagely. “I like it when you tickle there, Grampa.”

“Imagine that times a hundred.”

“Can we try?”