Wedding Tackle: Honeymoon

The changes didn't stop there, but the subsequent transformation was so gradual that several days passed before I was unable to dismiss them as paranoid imaginings. After all, the plug hole in the shower getting blocked with hair was not so unusual, and the hair on my head was as thick as ever.

And really, I was quite distracted. We were on our honeymoon, in a hotel that was once a villa, overlooking the vineyards of glorious Tuscany. When we weren't sampling the local cuisine and tasting the local wines, we were in bed, or in the bathroom, or in a concealed doorway, or hidden in the bushes, usually with me on my knees, either with my wife's cock in my mouth, or with my wife's cock thrusting deep into my pussy.

I loved her cock. I loved the way it filled me to the point of bursting. I loved feeling the eruption of her cum, in my mouth, or in the depths of my vagina. I was getting good at taking her into my throat, a little deeper every day. I especially loved the feeling of her cum leaking from my pussy, though I had to wear sanitary pads when we were outside, to stop the copious flow from soaking my knickers.

I missed having a cock and balls, though, and not least when I had to pee. I was grateful that their loss was so easily concealed. None of my family, friends or colleagues would see. I was a man, and still a man. What the doctors would make of me, if they ever needed to examine me, was a bridge to be crossed later. What Immigration would say if I was searched at the border... What would I say? That I was a trans man? Is that what I was?

So of course I was concerned that I was losing hair. My chest, my armpits, my pubes. Everywhere except my head, and there, if anything, it was longer, as if I hadn't just had it cut the day before the wedding. And I hadn't needed to shave once. My cheeks had had a light fuzz for a while, but even that vanished.

A week into the honeymoon and my pussy was bare. "I think it's hot," my wife said, grinning as she spread my legs and dived between them. But even she, I could see, was puzzled.

And my feet had shrunk too, so much so that it was difficult to keep my shoes on my feet, even wearing several pairs of socks. In fact, I was losing weight all over, something I had originally ascribed to healthy eating and plenty of exercise (sex, naturally) but I was becoming not only toned and slender but also decidedly feminine.

"I'm changing," I said. "I'm becoming a woman."

For the very first time, my discomfort over the changes to my body could not be washed away by her lust for it.

"I know," she said quietly, her expression concerned. "I've never heard of this happening." She took my hands and squeezed them in an attempt to reassure me. "But don't worry. I'm finding myself more attracted to you every day. Whatever happens, however you change, I will still love you, and I will still want you with all the passion that I have now."

I smiled gratefully. Her words meant everything to me. "I'm going to need new clothes," I said.

"I do love shopping," she said with a mischievous grin.

We took the bus into the city, and followed the directions the hotel receptionist had given, until we came to a shopping mall. "Mmm..." she murmured in my ear. "Let's find a changing room." I could the slight bulge in her knickers, beneath her dress, pressing against my bum from behind as she kissed my neck. It was enough to awaken my hunger for her and make my clit throb with need.

In the department store, she pulled me away from the men's section and into the women's, and I waited with acute embarrassment as she searched for skirts and T-shirts that might fit me. "I don't want to dress as a woman!" I whined, both alarmed and inexplicably turned on.

"Try it for a day," she pleaded, catching me for a kiss. "If you hate it, I'll never ask again."

"Okay," I mumbled, and I dare say my cheeks were as red as the shirt she picked out for me, when I emerged from the cubicle wearing a black miniskirt. (The cubicles didn't offer enough privacy for what she had in mind.)

"Eccellente!" she cried, clapping her hands and grinning. I could feel my cheeks burning. "Come and look at yourself," she said, pointing to the mirror.

Although my body had transformed to a more feminine figure, my appearance was decidedly androgynous and not, at least to my own eye, in any way beautiful. But the clothes did fit me, at least, and certainly better than my own clothes.

"Keep them on," she said. "I'll pay..."

Nervous as anything, I let her lead me out of the store and through the mall - to a lingerie shop. "No," I said, resisting.

"Oh, come on," she said. "No one here knows you." She tugged me inside after her. Five minutes later we walked out again, me with black lace knickers and a six-strap garter belt hugging my hips under the skirt. I felt completely ridiculous.

Although, I was also starting to relax. I might be flat-chested and far from pretty, but no one was paying much attention to me. And I was definitely curious to see what else my wife had bought for me in there.

We popped into a few shoe shops before spotting a cute pair of black sandals with chunky two-inch heels - which sounds fairly tame but I was completely new to heels. Of course, what I secretly wanted was six-inch stilettos, but there was no way I could wear them usefully.

There in the shoe shop, my wife divested me of my layers of socks, and rolled stockings, sheer and black with a red line running up the back, sensuously up my legs, and fastened them with the metal clasps of the garter belt. Almost instantly, I went from feeling ridiculous to feeling sexy. The lust in my wife's eyes certainly added to my excitement.

A very awkward and ill-dressed man had entered the mall that day. An excited and sexy woman left it - not that I was a woman, but I was happy enough to play one. The heels were fun to walk in, and the silky material of the stockings caressed my legs delightfully.

It was a lovely day. We wandered about the city centre for a while, enjoying the sights. In the crypt of the cathedral, a sombre and shadowy place devoid of other visitors, my wife pushed me hard against the cold stone wall and kissed me fiercely. "I need you now!" she hissed.

I could feel her hard nipples pressing into my chest. Cupping her voluptuously wonderful breasts in my hands, breasts that needed no bra to shape their perfection, I teased her nipples through the cotton fabric of her blue dress. "I'm not taking my stockings off," I said teasingly. My knickers, of course, were underneath the garter.

With a moan of lust, she twisted me around, lifted my skirt, and bent me over a sarcophagus. Her cock was swiftly freed from its confinement, and the head, wet with precum, brushed against my parted thighs as it swelled and stiffened. Hooking a finger through my knickers, she wrenched the material to the side to expose my pussy.

What followed was not sweet, romantic sex, but a hard fuck. My wife's enormous cock, longer and thicker than any man's, thrust savagely into me, forcing a cry of pain from me that echoed loudly in the crypt. The pain dissipated quickly, however, allowing me to enjoy the immensity of the cock that filled me - or half-filled me, rather. She eased out of me slowly, until the head nestled with the folds of my labia, then thrust again, harder, and deeper, forcing another cry from me, this one a cry of pure pleasure.

Again she withdrew only to thrust in deeper, and again, until she was fully embedded in my extraordinary vagina. I felt wonderfully stretched along the full length, the bulge of my wife's cock reaching almost to my rib cage. "Ready?" she asked.

"Fuck me," I said. "Hard."

And she did, holding my hip with one hand and my knickers to the side with the other, she settled into a steady rhythm of long, deep thrusting, each thrust sending vibrations of pleasure through my clit. I was in heaven. I adored having her cock in me, and wished this savage fucking would continue for hours.

My wife, however, was chasing a much needed orgasm, and sooner or later, probably sooner, someone else would come to explore the crypt - my wife was determined to come before they did. She increased the pace and ferocity of her strokes, her hips slapping loudly against my cheeks with each. Waves of ecstasy washed through me as I climaxed, and my climax seemed to last forever, fuelled by the huge cock that pounded into me with such determination.

Had anyone come down the stairs, it is unlikely she would have stopped. Fortunately, no one did. With a roar of pleasure she came at last, and the sensation of her cock pulsing within me, filling me with her cum, triggered yet another climax for me. She collapsed on top of me, kissing the back of my neck as our mutual orgasm slowly faded. But as we lay there recovering, the sound of voices drifted down the stairs.

Her beautiful cock slipped out of me, followed by a great spurt of cum. Before much more could escape onto the crypt floor, she adjusted my knickers. I looked down at the mess we had made on the crypt floor. No way was I going to clean it up, but I felt guilty that someone else would have to. "We're going to Hell," I said.

My wife just laughed.

*

The following morning I studied myself in the mirror, noting a number of subtle changes. My features - my face, my shoulders, my hips - continued their gradual shift towards femininity, and I had most definitely passed beyond mere androgyny. Indeed, there was nothing to suggest I had ever not been a woman. I even had breasts - small, barely an A cup, but possessed of thick, prominent nipples that were delightfully sensitive.

Curiously, I was not troubled by these changes. They felt right. If anything, I was impatient to see their end. I wanted a prettier face, and larger breasts, and a more pronounced waist. I didn't exactly feel like a woman, but I wanted to look like one. I wanted to look like a goddess. I certainly had no wish to look like a man.

I dressed in my garter belt and a sexy pair of fishnet stockings before pulling the covers from my sleeping wife. She was naked, as usual, her cock semi-erect. I climbed carefully onto the bed, straddling her legs, and took her cock between my lips.

She muttered in her sleep, and I stayed very still, enjoying the way her cock swelled within my mouth, until it was fully erect. I wrapped a hand gently about the shaft as I sucked the head, licking around it with loving appreciation. If she had been awake, she would not have suffered such slow stimulation, and it was nice to control the pace for once.

Taking my time, I took her gradually deeper into my throat, breathing out each time before descending, gradually overcoming my fear of being torn apart by that monster. In and out, in and out, a little further each time, until, to my complete astonishment, and elation, my nose was touching my wife's belly. Out and in, out and in, o-

My wife gave a great moan of pleasure, and her hands grabbed my head, holding me in place as her cock stiffened painfully within me and erupted with cum. I was unable to breathe, unable to move, unable to do anything as her mighty shaft writhed furiously within my throat. At long last her grip eased and I pulled myself off the still pulsing invader, cum jetting into my mouth as the head escaped my lips.

I was gasping for breath, but my wife gave me no chance to recover. She pushed me onto my back, lifted my stocking-clad ankles about her neck, and drove her still hard cock into my pussy. Desperate to come, I rubbed my clit while she fucked me with wild passion. With her left hand she grabbed my right breast and rolled my nipple between her fingers, a sensation so intense it was like electricity. "Fuck!" I screamed, the scream of a woman on the point of orgasm, before surrendering to the waves of pleasure.

When it was over, I pushed her hand away from my too sensitive breast, and tried to relax and finally catch my breath while I watched my wife's continuing assault on my pussy.

There was something important missing, I realised. "I want leather boots," I said. "Nice ones. With stiletto heels."

"Yes, dear," she said, grinning down at me.

*

We waited a few days before going shopping again, mostly to see if my body would change any further. And it did. By the following morning, my breasts were a C cup, and the day after that a D cup, but they stabilised there. My feet shrank one more size. Even I started to think my face was pretty, and my wife taught me how to apply lipstick and mascara. My hair had grown down to my shoulders, and become an ugly mess, but after an hour with the stylist I ended up with sweet mid-length bob.

I finally had a body that felt right to me - or almost, anyway. I wasn't a man, and I wasn't a woman, but I felt sexy and confident with my new body. I was my wife's lover, and technically her husband, but no one would recognise me as such. My passport described someone who no longer existed. The honeymoon was nearly over, but there was no way for me to go home.

We went shopping for clothes, and lingerie, and shoes, and a gorgeous pair of leather boots with three-inch stilettos. We finally found a shop where we could sneak into a changing cubicle together. I leaned against the wall while my wife thrust into me from behind. We were both having to be gentler and quieter than we liked, but hearing women chattering in Italian just a few feet away from us was extremely erotic.

Rather than make a mess, I knelt down to take my wife's cock in my mouth as it erupted with cum. I was getting very good at swallowing, though some still managed to escape me, spilling down my chin and dripping onto the floor.

"What are we going to do?" I asked later. "I can't go home, and we can't stay in the hotel forever."

"I have a cousin in Rome," she said. "You could stay with her while I sort things out back home."

"Is she a futa too?"

"Yes, and very sexy. I'm not even going to hope you can resist her, and I know she won't be able to resist you. But your heart is mine and will always be mine."

The thought of her leaving me hurt. "You will come back for me?" I asked.

"Of course, and as soon as possible."

*

We stayed in bed for almost the whole of the rest of the honeymoon, leaving it only to go to the bathroom or to collect the meals from room service. My wife finally decided that she had to fuck my ass, and spent a good hour finger-fucking me, gradually adding more and more fingers until her whole hand was trying to pierce me. "Just fuck me!" I moaned. The intense stretching of my ass and the friction was exciting me until all I could think about was how good her cock would feel in there.

Despite all her preparation, it didn't go easily. I was almost ready to give up, but my wife refused to. With a determined thrust she forced her way in at last, and for a moment I think I lost consciousness. It was incredible. Nothing in the universe existed beyond her cock and my ass. And then she thrust deep into me, and I climaxed, convulsing helplessly about her shaft, each contraction of my ass a fresh astonishment.

She waited for me to calm, then started fucking me properly. I didn't have the strength to move. I rested on my knees and elbows, luxuriating in the incredible sensations her cock was delivering. My ass didn't have the same depth as my pussy, but it was so much tighter. "I love your ass," she said, pounding away furiously.

My clit was throbbing with a hunger for something I hadn't thought about for days. The hunger to fuck, not merely to be fucked. Not that being fucked wasn't fantastic. I loved every inch of the cock that ravished my ass. "Come in my ass," I said. "I want your cum in my ass!"

"Your wish is my- Yes! Fuck, yes!" Her cum splashed deep within me, and I cried out as I climaxed. We came together, my ass contracting fiercely about her wild, cum-spewing cock. "So amazing," she said. "I can't believe we waited two weeks to do that."

My clit was throbbing harder than ever, and... Well. "Close your eyes, my love," I said, "and get on your hands and knees."

"Okay," she said, sounding understandably puzzled.

I stood up from the bed and looked down at my transformed clit. At my cock. It wasn't anywhere near as large as my wife's, but it dwarfed my original wedding tackle. Like her, I had no balls, just a cock, and I had the sense it would return to being my clit once its hunger had been sated.

My wife's cum was leaking from my ass and dripping onto the floor. I wondered what the hotel's staff thought of the mess we made of their sheets and towels every day. Certainly they had been watching my transformation from man to woman - or to futa, really - with naked curiosity.

Not since the wedding night had I had the pleasure of my cock in my wife's pussy. I had two weeks of lost time to make up for. Kneeling behind her on the bed, I positioned for entry, and thrust in before she could form a coherent question. She was so wonderfully tight about my new thick cock, and I was so long now that as I thrust deeper and deeper into her beautiful pussy I could feel her cervix against the soft head.

"How is this possible?" she asked.

"How is any of this possible? All I know is that we're perfect for each other." I rolled her over onto her back, and took her missionary style, our large breasts squashed together with the tip of her erect cock between them. "A marriage of equals. Futa and futa. You are my wife and the mother of my child, and I will love you forever. But I know now that you have no choice but to love me too."

"Yes," she said. "I can feel it too. We are both bonded to the other now."

I kissed my wife on the lips, even as I climaxed, my cock dancing with victory within her. She moaned with pleasure as her own cock erupted likewise, cum filling the space between our breasts.