Agnes Dourville Ch. 12

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When the massive shovel at the bottom of the open-pit mine drops its load into my oversized dump truck, I shudder along with the entire vehicle. In fact, the earth itself shudders. I’m being loaded with taconite by one of the largest hydraulic earth-shovels in the world. Wearing panties while doing so gives me such a perverse pleasure….

I gun the diesel engine, start out in ultra-low gear, and gear up a little as I make my way up the circular road out of the pit. I drop my load onto a big conveyor belt which carries the ore over to railroad cars, and then head down again.

This repetition lulls me into a daily trance. One of my attributes, I suppose, is the ability to melt into my surroundings, to reflect my environment, like a chameleon. Plus, after putting up with all the dust and noise, I’m making really good money.

My father, who everyone calls Gene, makes sure I save most of my money, because he knows I have my sights set on college… and also because he worries about my going out to buy women’s clothing.

He’s looking pretty healthy these days, in his 50s, lean, and taller than me. His live-in partner is Diane, who’s more my size. She works in a florist shop in Hibbing and is also a yoga devotee. I’m not sure why they’re not married; maybe it’s due to bad marriage experiences. Because she works out, she’s curvaceous, but she doesn’t come across in a provocative way.

They’re very nice to me actually, and make me feel at home. We have some discussions about my former life. They’re really interested in why I became Michelle, and want to hear every detail of my relationship with Agnes and Clarice (and Sharon, too). They think people are happier when they stick to their birth-certificate gender. “When you try to become something you’re not, your head can get screwed around,” pronounces my father.

I mention that I seem to have some feminine traits in me, and that I like the way I look as a woman rather than as a man.

“It’s true you’re not a man’s man,” says Diane, “and it’s true you’re not aggressive and a Hell’s Angel type, for crying out loud, but you can still be a man with your quiet qualities. I know a lot of women who like their men that way. So be who you actually are, and you’ll be happy.”

One day I find a pair of panties she discarded, so I rescue them by sewing them back into serviceable shape again, and of course keep them hidden. They’re a shiny deep maroon, with lace on the sides, and they fit me perfectly. Once, while Gene and Diane are away at church, I try on her bras. They bring back the delights of having breasts, even if they’re pretend ones. I have a most wonderful masturbation, followed by feeling guilty as hell.

Sometimes after work I join my dad at the mine-drivers’ favorite bar, Massey’s, on the outskirts of Hibbing. I’m developing a taste for beer, and sometimes after a mind-numbing day at work, a little high is welcome. There, I clink glasses with the other (mostly older and mostly married) drivers; listen to their ribald jokes, work complaints, and political comments; and try to read adana escort between the lines about their lives and loves.

They josh my dad about Diane’s yoga and about his age (he’s the oldest among them). Perhaps because of the safety aspects of their job, they don’t drink to excess, and are a pretty well-behaved bunch.

But I always feel on the periphery of the group. Sure, I laugh at their humor and try to contribute a little myself, but I don’t fit into their easygoing, male camaraderie. I can tell they’re taking it easy on me, because they could wrap some of their gay jokes around me if they wished. Somehow I figure they know about my Michelle background – my dad may have filled them in about me – and they’re respecting his request to not out me. Every once in a while, a joke comes up about a sex change, or transvestite, or gays banging each other, or some such thing, and I just play along, and they don’t direct the humor at me.

We’re sometimes joined by a woman who tracks machine maintenance at the mine. Bobbi seems to take me under her wing and makes sure the guys don’t pick on me. About 35, with perfect boobs and rosy face, but with generous hips due to her love of partying, she joins right in with the sexual humor and has a great old time. I gather from the banter that she broke up with one of the truck drivers a while back.

Every so often, our boss Anton comes in and joins us. He’s the boss everyone wishes he had – young, fond of a good time, a listener, yet an up-and-comer and college-educated guy who’s headed up the career ladder in mining, or whatever he chooses. He’s also good-looking, drives an Italian sports car, and has a juicy wife.

I’ve never seen him pull rank and order anyone to do anything; he always asks, and the guys are only too willing to work as a group to get the job done, even if it requires some overtime. He’s a natural leader, and he easily fits in with the bar group.

And, he hired me.

I learn at the bar that his hobby is raising tropical fish. Like, he has some huge aquariums that most of the guys have seen. So he sometime gets razzed about going fishing for those “little two-inch-long fishees” while the others catch big bass and northern pike out in Minnesota’s lakes.

I ask to see his aquariums sometime too.

And so, one day after work he picks me up in his speedy car and brings me to his home in Hibbing. I meet his wife Suzy, who’s one of the more playful women I’ve met locally, who dresses in bright colors, and whose hair falls luxuriantly all around her shoulders.

They serve me dinner, and seem to be such a fun-loving couple – while I’m shy and quiet – and I can’t help but think that I’d love to be her.

Despite my wanting to be the perfect guest, I imagine them having sex, with her stripping to bra and panties, and then Anton fucking her standing up. This brings on an embarrassing erection.

They ask all the right questions and her cooking is fabulous; much better than at my dad’s house!

Afterwards, I get Anton’s tour of their three afyon escort giant aquariums while Suzy does the dishes. Two tanks contain fresh water, I’m told, while the third has salt water. I’m truly amazed at the beauty and exoticness of the fish, enhanced by carefully planned lighting, plants and long streams of bubbles. This is my first exposure to tropical fish….

Anton, now dressed in some slim trousers and tightly fitted T-shirt, points out the different varieties, like tetras, swordtails, black mollies and bettas. At one point he points out a male molly succeeding in fucking a female, which Anton finds great interest in. “They give birth to live fish,” he says “- they don’t lay eggs.”

I stick around that evening after Suzy’s gone to bed, while Anton shows me his collection of fish photographs and fish books. With the bedroom door closed behind her, Anton feels he can talk with me mano to mano.

When he begins talking about a relationship he had with a Thai woman when he has vacationing there, in Pattaya – before he met Suzy – and he uses the term “ladyboy” – I soon gather he’s talking about a crossdresser.

In a low voice, Anton relates how the Thai woman was stunningly beautiful and completely captivated him. Only after he’d seen her several times, and was finally ready to consummate the relationship did she hint at what was between her legs.

“I was thunderstruck, and yet I was still attracted,” Anton says. “Somehow, her having a prick didn’t turn me off at all; in fact, it – to use a fancy word – inflamed me. I had to have her in some way, you know.”

Now I’m seeing Anton as brilliantly colored tropical fish, trying to insert his thing into a female fish. I’m also unconsciously aware he knows all about my background, and I want to see where he’s headed.

But I play innocent. “So, what happened?”

“I’m assuming this is just between you and me?” Anton asks in his low, melodious voice.

“Of course.”

“Well, you know I’m giving her some money to help support her mother, and I do my first overnight with her. We’re like making love, and she takes off all my clothes but leaves her bra and panties on, and she still looks beautiful, and she blows me. I’m in heaven. My god!”

“And then,” Anton continues, “and I’ve never told the guys this, the next night we’re in the dark under the sheets and she puts a condom on me, and I don’t know what to expect, and I feel her tits – not sure if they’re real or fake – and she guides my COCK into whatever, and it feels kinda like a vagina, but it must’ve been her behind. And I pump away good, and she’s moaning, and I come like I’ve never come before or since, to be honest.”

“Wow,” I offer.

“There was something so sexy and sinful and, I don’t know, forbidden, about this whole thing, you know. I even offered to do something with her prick, but she never wanted to show it to me. She definitely wanted to play the woman’s role one hundred percent. She wanted to be treated as a lady, and I respected that…. We walked around Pattaya as a couple, alanya escort even though some of the locals looked crosseyed at her.”

“The funny thing,” says Anton, “is she seemed more female than any female I’d known before. I’ve never been able to get her out of my mind. Unfortunately, I had to leave, and it was tough to say goodbye.”

“And you helped her mother,” I add half humorously.

I’m seeing a new, more vulnerable Anton now and appreciate his opening up to me. I’ve had some beer with him, and feel rather close at the moment. “I’m assuming you know about my past?” I ask.

This catches him off guard, as though I’m breaking the bubble of his pervasive memory.

“Well, I did hear that your dad kind of rescued you from… living… as a girl.”

“That’s true. I went by the name Michelle…. I did a good job of passing.”

After the minutes tick by and the clock reaches midnight, I’ve told him the complete story of Michelle, Agnes, Clarice and Sharon, because I know he’s intently interested.

“So, do you still want to do that sort of thing?” he wonders.

“I’m OK being Michael for now,” I answer. “If I wanted to return to Douglas and Agnes I would’ve done that by now.”

We’re both a little juiced by now, having switched from beer to screwdrivers.

I’m not at all surprised when he lays his hand on mine, and says, “Michael, I’ll bet you make a fine-looking girl. I keep imagining how your kinda feminine features would look with makeup and under long hair!”

“Convincing,” I respond.

Despite my telling Sharon back in Douglas that I’m not attracted to men, I have to confess I’m attracted to Anton – his eagerness, his bewitching combination of male and female, and his good build, including a luxuriant shock of long hair. I keep wanting to run my hand through it.

“Would you,” he asks, “like to be a Michelle with me sometime? I mean, Suzy’s going to visit her sister out East in a couple weeks, and she’ll be gone a week.”

I know that with his winning personality and good looks, he’s never had any trouble bedding women. I instantly fantasize transforming myself into Suzy by wearing her things and using her makeup, and having him so ardently attracted to me that he’d want to fuck me. Yes, I’ll admit it; I want him to fuck me, but only when I’ve become Suzy….

I have another erection, but I don’t reveal my excitement:

“I don’t have any women’s clothing here,” I venture.

“You could wear Suzy’s things. You’re about the same size.”

“You really want to re-create your ladyboy, don’t you?”

“It could be fun.”

“Does Suzy have a wig?”


I know he’s lusting after me, after my possibilities, and in a way, I’m in the driver’s seat. “Then,” I tell him, “your assignment is to go buy me one. You pick.”

He smiles.

We set a date. He drives me home, and in leaving, I touch his hand.

My father and Diane never ask why I’m so late.

I’m counting the days until our assignation. I don’t have the faintest idea of how it will shake out. Will I maintain the “proper lady” stance too? At work I see Anton in an entirely different light, but we don’t behave any differently toward each other.

I’m also busy imagining what sort of sexy stuff his wife Suzy has. It could be like a candy store.

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