Date: Mon, 6 Oct 2003 22:15:04 -0700 (PDT) From: Padraig Subject: Dean: An FTM Story "This story is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are derived solely from my imagination. Any resemblance or affinity to actual events, locations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. This work is copyrighted by the author, 2003. Dedicated to the gay FTMs out there... Many gay men out there are attracted to the truly masculine (noble in spirit) among you, so don't despair." I had just started working at the firm. Fresh out of undergrad, I had applied for an internship at Thurwood and Levine, and was ecstatic upon acceptance. The internship coordinator was one Dean Borgarsson, a stocky, balding man with a goatee, incredibly hirsute arms, a massively built chest, beguiling green eyes, and a grotesque package. A boyish man with extraordinarily large yet seemingly firm buttocks, he had a rich tenor and a mischievous grin that fueled the greatest fantasies. He would arrive punctually at 9, usually in a black business suit, a royal purple vest, and slicked back brown hair. Cindy, his secretary, would open up his office, and he and the early bird interns (myself included among these) would file in to receive their assignments. Just in case there is any doubt in the reader's mind, I lusted intensely after Dean (as he insisted we call him). At my cubicle, I often fantasized that he would congratulate me on a job well done and pat my rear gently, which would gently yield to furtive rubbing and eventually the most clandestine of pressures upon my arsehole. Another intern would then approach, and he would be forced to attend to this intern's needs. I would watch from a distance while he talked with the other intern, watching his chest heave with every expressive gesture that he made. And then it happened. At 5 o'clock one fateful Tuesday afternoon, I went to give him my report on the changes I envisioned for the firm's environmental policies. I knocked upon the sturdy oak door, and it opened slightly. I peeked my head in, and seeing that no one was around, I opted to leave the report in his inbox. My curiosity got the best of me, and after I dropped the stack of papers on his desk, I decided to explore his office more closely. Walking around his black leather chair, I espied the company's customer service award on an adjacent shelf. It was a glass cylinder, and read "For Outstanding Customer Service - 2002". Then I heard the door swing open. I panicked, and dashed over to a large armoire roughly parallel to his desk and against the back wall. I dove in, leaving the doors slightly ajar so I could watch Dean at work. Dean sauntered in (the only appropriate word to describe Dean's charisma), sat down in his chair, and buzzed for Cindy to come in. As a gay man, I only get excited in women insomuch as they excite the straight men I lust after. In other words, they do very little for me. However, for the benefit of some of our bisexual and bi-curious readers, I will describe Cindy briefly. Cindy was in her late twenties, new to the firm (she arrived a week before I did), and had an ample bosom (probably a B cup), and short blond hair. She had fashionably long legs, and always wore rather short skirts. When Cindy entered and closed the door, Dean asked her if she had called Mr. Edwards as he had asked of her. Cindy was an exemplary secretary, and rattled off the list of accomplishments for the day. Dean flashed an elfin grin, and interrupting her in midflow, asked her to take a seat. Puzzled, Cindy asked where, for the only chair in the room was Dean's leather one. Dean pointed to the desk, and suggested she park herself there. She seemed hesitant, but ultimately sat upon the smooth marble surface. She crossed one leg over the other, and continued with her list. Dean leaned back in his chair, and started paying as much attention to Cindy's crotch as he did the list. When Cindy became excited, she had a tendency to re-cross her legs, and Dean apparently saw something he really liked down there. A typical straight male. "Do you always wear pink underwear, Cindy?" Dean's blunt question had caught Cindy off-guard. "Dean, that is really none of your business. I kindly ask you to stick to the matter at hand." Upon these words, Dean placed both his smallish hands on Cindy's calves. "But I am, Ms. Winthrop. I am." Dean began to gently caress each calf, lingering on the knee, and then retreating to her calves once again. He did this about ten times, with Cindy breathing heavily and looking meaningfully at Dean. Suddenly, he stood up, grasped both her thighs with his adolescent hands, and slowly but surely maneuvered her skirt off. Cindy leaned back to facilitate the process. Upon achieving this, the imp of the hour slowly began rubbing her pubic area with the lower end of his palm. Then, in a sudden fit of activity, he stood up, removed both her blouse and skirt with nimble hands, and began to pinch her pink nipples. Cindy let out consciously subdued moans of ecstasy. Dean bent into her bosom, and with a newly elongated tongue, flicked the tip of her left nipple, causing shocks to percuss along her spine. Upon seeing this, he laughed heartily, and Cindy, feeling at ease, giggled in response. Dean began to kiss her breasts, and for the next five minutes, gently alternated between vigorously kneading her chest and aggressively injecting her pink nipples into his mouth. More on injection later. At the end of his feast, Dean stepped back and sat in his chair once again. "Ms. Winthrop, I'd like you to masturbate for me. I have this brand-new dildo that I bought just for the occasion." With that, he opened his top desk drawer, and brought out an 8-inch long, 3-inches long dildo, still in its package. Cindy gently took the dildo from his hands, and removed the casing. She flicked her hair, leaned back with her genitalia plainly in view, and slowly removed her underwear. Her inflamed lips were plain to see, and when she pushed them back, to insert the dildo, it was clear that her clitoris was swollen as well. As she inserted the dildo, she gyrated and moaned softly. Dean began to heavily massage his chest with one hand, while he reached out with the other to gently manipulate Cindy's clitoris. He cocked his head like a puppy, and smiled broadly at Cindy, who responded with a giggle and hardened thrustings of the dildo. Soon, the dildo thrusting reached epic proportions. Cindy jammed the dildo repeatedly, while Dean, clearly interested and breathing quite heavily himself, began to aggressively pinch her clitoris. "Tell me how much you love my hand pinching your fat clitty, Ms. Winthrop. Tell me that your clitty has exploded and distended under my touch." At this point, I had a raging erection. The earlier foreplay had failed to stimulate my interest to much, since I couldn't see Dean's face too well, and also because Ms. Winthrop failed to excite me. Dean's benevolent, loving control soon got to my penis, however, and by the time he started rhapsodizing about the effect of his masculinity on Cindy's mini-dick, her mega-clit, and the like, I was pretty excited. Just then, Cindy erupted into orgasm, and drenched the marble counter with the symbol of Dean's virile charisma. She sighed, and looked longingly at Dean. He responded with a flash of teeth, and told Cindy that he hoped they could do this again in the future. She donned her clothes slowly, and with a carefree air, left the office humming. "You can come out now." Did I just hear him right? Did he know I was here all along? I felt sick to my stomach, and I actually thought I would pass out. "It's alright. I won't hurt you." He stood up, and opened the doors to the armoire. He looked at me sternly, but then patted my butt, lingering for a split moment in my arsecrack, just like in my fantasies. "So did you enjoy the show?" "Well, I enjoyed you, Dean." I was feeling a bit bold, and in retrospect, it's hard to believe I said as much. Dean looked at me for a while, and then turned around to face his desk. "I'm going to change. The encounter made me sweaty. You can leave now if you want." I stood firm, not out of defiance, but out of unabashed curiosity. Dean turned around to face me, and slow began to remove his business suit. Biting his lip in a coy manner, he slowly unbuttoned his vest. This left him only in his undershirt. His chest was massive, and he could adequately be described as "bitch tits". I wondered if he had worked out his chest too much to the exclusion to the rest of his body. His pecs sagged low, and the tips were hard and incredibly prominent. Bodybuilders often developed such supple nipples. Actually, some males are lucky enough to be born with very sensitive and responsive nipples, but thinking about Dean pumping iron made me even harder, if that were possible. My theory was support by his abs which were prominent through his undershirt. He then began to remove his pants, and his chest jiggled in response to the motion. His underwear was firmly clamped to his body, and his gargantuan penis almost burst out of his drawers entirely. His buttocks were large, much on the scale of his chest, and all I could think of was how lucky I was. His legs were inordinately hairy, far hairier than mine (or most males, for that matter), and he had thick sprouts of hair sprouting on his feet. Then came an incredible shock. Dean grinned wildly, and removed his undershirt. In doing so, he revealed two tiny, hairy breasts. To be sure, his chest was completely covered with hair (the skin was barely visible in some areas), but this hair lay upon two muscular, very small breasts. His dapper pink nipples protruded far beyond his virile, nearly flattened tits, and were hard with the thought of another sexual encounter. Dean was a female-to-male transsexual. "I've been on T for two years now. I used to be an A-cup, but now I just have "bitch tits", I guess." He laughed, and rubbed his nipples strongly. While they were much larger than most male nipples, they were quite obviously masculine, surrounded entirely by hair as they were. I removed my shirt, and we both marvelled at the chest of the other. Without much thought, I stepped forward, and placed my mouth firmly upon his nipple, chewing gently while he moaned with abandon. In the midst of this, Dean pulled down his underpants, letting the large penis he was packing flop to the floor. At the sight, we both seemed startled, especially when I saw that Dean had a small penis and testicles, both covered with a mass of keratinous vines. He noticed my confusion. "I had a metoidioplasty and hysterectomy two years ago. These are testicular implants, and this is my enlarged clitoris, or as I like to call it, Prince Dean, the Dick-In- Waiting." I laughed heartily and pinched his mini-dick. He shuddered, and reached down my pants to grope my arse. He dove his fingers straightway into my arsehole, taking me completely by surprise. He then unbuttoned my pants, and making quick work of my underwear, started stroking my penis vigorously. We faced each other completely, the one stroking the other's penis as if the genie inside had terminal narcolepsy. Dean pushed his finger in and out of my smooth buttocks, and I soon reciprocated, probing his incredibly hairy rear with my middle digit. Just then, Dean straddled my thigh with his crotch, and slowly began rubbing himself up and down against it. This he did while kissing me fervently. With one hand he masturbated my penis, while with another he gently tugged the small hairs on the cusp of my hole. I broke away from the kiss to suck on his nipples, and when I had my fill, he reached forward and licked my much-smaller, but still attentive brown buttons. I just couldn't take it anymore. I spurted all over his chest, with ejaculate coating the hairy veneer of his sinewy tits. He soon orgasmed on my thigh, and we collapsed together on his table in sheer joy. "I thought you might want to escape when you saw my chest. So many gay men have trouble with an FTM. Sure, I liked pleasing Cindy, but I really, really like you." "Are you kidding? It's like making out with a hardcore bodybuilder. You're one of the most masculine men I've ever met, Dean." "Good, because you'll be seeing a lot more of me. Would you like to join me for dinner at Sabatino's this Thursday, say 7 o'clock?" "Heck yeah. See you then." With this statement he winked, and began putting on his clothes. I did the same. And in our eyes, it was clear that we both feel great about my internship at Thurwood and Levine.