Healthy Behavior
Keywords: Behavior, Healthy,
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"Yes, it's a new series, fans of mine. I know you like Marilyn, but she's on hiatus. Deal. Anyway, I do have something interesting for you. It's an unusual tale, but then again, my writing tastes have proven to be a bit unusual. I'm about as mainstream as N'Sync is underground. So without further ado, let's get started. Oh, and yadda yadda yadda over 18 to read yadda yadda yadda read only if legal where you are blah blah blah."
* * * * *
"Uhh…is Mr. Stanford around?"
"One moment dear…ooh, damn heels. Makes it impossible to walk through doorways. Here I am ma'am. So, did the maid get you here alright? Hello? Earth to…"
"I can't believe this…"
"Oh, the heels? Yeah, it is kinda stupid to wear 6 inch heels with a 3 inch platform when you're my height. I'm almost as tall as Shaquille O'Neal like this."
"No…I meant…th-that!!!"
"Ah, I get your message. This l'il pink spandex number isn't my style, but you wouldn't get the hint of my, er, changes is I walked up to you wearing a hoodie, some baggy jeans and some Tims right? You can definitely SEE my changes with this, right?"
"How big are they? I mean.."
"I know. It's not exactly normal to see someone born a guy with hooters this big. These, my friend, are courtesy of the Dow Corning corporation. 40DDD if you're thinking about that. Small enough that I don't look like a cartoon version of a woman, like those big tits strippers you see around, but big enough that not only can they make me look feminine, but I can still hit the gym hard without looking too much like the androgyne I am. There are some other changes I might show ya if you're willing. Wanna have a seat? Besides, these heels aren't exactly made for comfort."
"Sure, no prob…er, what should I call you?"
"You can call me Miss K if ya want. That's how I'm known in the world nowadays. The name 'Mr. Stanford' is OK too. After all, that's how my money managers know me as still. So what mag are you from again?"
"Wired. They sent me out here to do a profile on you."
"Ah yes, the sweet joys of the tech world press. What's the deal with it?"
"Well, Mr. Stanford, you did disappear under, shall I say, unusual circumstances. It was enough to get the feds to investigate you on that stock."
"Eh. It's understandable. With the money I got out with, I'd be suspicious if I were them. But anyway, how long are you assigned out here for?"
"Couple days. I'm probably gonna get a cover story out of this. Why do you ask?"
"Oh nothing. Just wanna make sure you get enough time to get everything, plus have a bit of fun. So, shall we get started?"
"Sure. Lemme fish the tape recorder out my purse."
"OK. Tell me when to start."
"Alright. First, tell me a bit about your background, sir, er, ma'am, er…"
***
Well, this is gonna be an interesting one. Let me cut right to the chase. The name's Khalil Allen Stanford, or at least that's what the Feds call me. I was born in Brooklyn January 25, 1972. Came up through the public school system, a proud product of Bed-Stuy, and did well enough on the placement test to get into Brooklyn Tech. You could say I'm somewhat special, though not particularly so. After all, if you root around enough neighborhoods in town, you could find a few thousand kids like me. As for childhood, it was NYC standard issue…playing ball, listening to hip-hop mix tapes, chasing tail on the subway, the usual. Simply put, I wasn't one of those guys who rooted around their mama's draw looking for frilly things to wear. I'm about as atypical as they come when it comes to that.
Now here's the part you've been waiting for ma'am. After scoring perfect on my math SAT, and going 1560 overall, I had my choice of schools. Harvard, Yale, you name it. However, I chose Stanford. It had a pretty sweet CS department, and it was on the West Coast. The fact that Stanford threw at me a scholarship with so much money that it's probably illegal in a dozen states didn't hurt either. So I went to Stanford, class of 1994. Yes, THE class of 1994. Yahoo, Excite, LinkExchange, yadda yadda yadda, blah blah blah. Oh and the Stanford name? Who knows? Maybe the founder owned my ancestors in the Caribbean. Whatever.
So I settled down out there, came back east for the major breaks and in the interim became the best damn Perl hacker anyone wearing Cardinal has ever seen. I became very famous in the CS department for my skills. The fame led to me doing some consulting work for Yahoo and Excite during my senior year and right after graduation. In fact, you know that when you visit Yahoo, you call up my script? Sure, it's been tweaked around the edges since I got started on it, but it's still pretty much my baby.
Anyway, after doing some semi-regular work with Yahoo, and some nickel and dime consulting with Netscape and eBay, the dot-com boom on the stock market began. As a token for my work, I was awarded boatloads of stock. How much stock? Well, put it this way. In the span of a few months, I became wealthy enough to vote Republican. And the riches got bigger and bigger. After a while, I just stopped working and bullshitted now and again to CNBC. What difference do my words on that channel make anyway? I could say bullshit selling would be the future of the 'net economy' and venture capitalists would throw 8 figures at bullshit.com. Who cares.
But let me get to the big story before we start talking about what I know you wanna talk about. I know you can't stop staring at my tits. You're curious about my tits, huh? And my big juicy nipples…mmm, let me play with them for a bit. I need the endorphin rush before I talk about that bullshit. Oh, that feels so nice. Let me pull on them a bit…mmm, ooo, there we go. Ah, now my nipples are all hard. I can't put them back in my dress. Mind if I keep my tits out? We're all girls here…well, at least I look like one. Hehehe. Thanks.
Anyway, on to that big SEC investigation. Around the time I sold all those stocks, I was getting sick of the whole dot-com business. After all, I was richer than a pharoah before the age of 30. Why the fuck should I have kept working? So that fateful day in late February 2000, I told my broker to dump everything. EVERYTHING. I know the market dipped a bit on the strength of my shares. Who knew that I was the needle that was to break the dot-com bubble on NASDAQ? A couple weeks after the big dump, people finally started to ask for real profits from dot-com companies, and it just went from there. I understand the whole SEC thing. I mean, think it. The fact that I cashed out to the tune of 9 figures right before a stock market crash looks shady to anyone with two working eyes. But what can you do? After all, the law is the law, and they can lay the smackdown on whoever they want. I have no ill will towards them. It was just incredible timing.
So after that whole mess, I put 100 mill a piece on AT&T and GM. After all, they make the most money on porn…they'll never go broke. As for the difference, it's nice and comfy all over the planet. Which leads to the beautiful puppies you see before ya and the make-up and the whole nine. Ooooh, lemme get started on that story before I come sitting here.
You see, I've always thought about chicks with dicks, especially being a chick with a dick fucking another regular chick. I dunno why, but I have. It seems that from the time I started getting into girls and all that, the idea of a shemale fucking a female has been there. It wasn't to the exclusion of everything else. I mean, I had my share of wet dreams featuring Kim Basinger or Janet Jackson or whatever chick who was the flavor of the month. It's not like I didn't date girls, though to typical geek success, or like one of the guys on talk shows who've always felt female. No knock to them, but it just wasn't me.
***
"Now let me get this straight. I'm sitting here with a wealthy ex-dot-commer with his..er, her tits sticking out, looking like a Playboy model, yet you're trying to tell me you don't feel feminine?"
"Yes."
"This is a whopper. I gotta hear this story."
"This is unbelievable. I go for a cover story, and I end up with some worthy of Jerry Springer or the National Enquirer."
"Now that you mention it, that stage manager on the show was on the National Enquirer and is the main guy responsible for the mess we see today. Shall I continue?"
*suck* "Lemme hear this shit. I get paid either way."
"Thanks for the enthusiasm."
***
Well, the drive to this bod began with my time with Yahoo. By the time I got to them, I sublimated my weird sexual tastes and had gotten on with my middling dating life. Mack of the year, I wasn't. Anyway, in my spare time, I got to wandering through the newsgroups. I read this one story about this voluptuous shemale being teased and tortured by these women. I think it was on some sort of femdom tip. Oh, lemme stop before I have to whip it out. The thought of that story has made sitting here like sitting on a tree root. Mmmm. Whew! Anyway, while that story wasn't the best one I've ever read, it got me going into the shemale thing. As time went on, especially as I was getting to my days as insanely-rich Perl hacker and CNBC guest, I spent time looking for more and more shemale stuff. Most of the stuff I found were duds though. Seems that most of the shemale fans on the net are outright closetcases. I don't see the turn-on in wanting to suck a dick, even if it's attached to a feminine bod, but to each their own. Nevertheless, I found enough stuff to keep me going, and I stashed what I found like a packrat. You know, like anime, the story here and there and, if I got lucky, a movie showing a shemale and a female going at it. Yum.
Anyway, after I dumped everything and went through the SEC shit, I started to hit the stash hard. Then I got to thinking, well, let's give it a shot. What do I got to loose? So I shaved off the beard I had, and removed every hair from the waist down, got dressed and walked into a plastic surgeon's office I knew specialized in sex changes.
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Keywords: Behavior, Healthy,