Nadia Silayev

By Selbryth Lannigan

Just as the nineteenth century was turning into the twentieth, Nadia, the sweet-spirited daughter of the laundress of a tiny central European hamlet finds adulthood a troubling time. Her birth as a male has never been a secret - all in the village know and have accepted her true identity, but she is far too feminine to attract most other females, while at the same time is just masculine enough to keep the young men away.

But surprising events, most connected to her quietly hidden heritage, bring her, through painful steps along desolate paths, to an ultimate joy unlooked for.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Selbryth Lannigan
• Release date: Jan 23, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370322282

Selbryth Lannigan

I've been writing fiction since the mid 1980s, both short and long works, and turned to erotic fiction at around the same time. I have published on the Literotica site under the singular name Selbryth and have also sold hundreds of short 'anonymous' pieces to the pulp erotic publications of the time: Letters Magazine and Hustler's Busty Beauties being just two. Focusing on sexuality beyond what some would consider the 'norm', my characters include t-girls (trannies, kathoey, newhalf, shemales, ladyboys) cross-dressers, sissified and transformed males, gays and lesbians, who engage in a variety of fetishes, kinks and sexy hijinks.Though explicitly described, the stories themselves offer an inner dialog which most times borders on the romantic. There is no death, very little violence and hopefully the reader is left feeling good.

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Notice of Copyright

Copyright © 2015 by Selbryth

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Printed in the United States of America

First Printing, 2015

Disclaimer

This is a work of fiction and is intended for mature audiences. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Nadia Silayev

Chapter One - The Cobbler

The horseman dismounted and walked across the narrow dirt road toward the elegantly appointed coach stopped on the other side. As he approached he removed his dusty well-worn cap.

You are certain she is from this village? a soft voice asked him from within the cab, and the horseman leaned in the open window, rubbing the side of his stubbly face.

From all accounts, yes, Your Highness. he answered. One of the coach's two horses scraped at the dusty soil with a hoof and he glanced aside at it momentarily.

She doesn't look it. the first voice said. She's such a delicate thing. Rather tall as well...

The horseman nodded, glancing discreetly back over his shoulder where the peasant girl in question was talking with the village's greengrocer woman; the sound of laughter now floated to him on the steady breeze which had been blowing all morning. Yes she is, he answered, Five-foot-six, perhaps; twenty years old; born here; lives with her mother who is the town's laundress - top of the hill there... He turned slightly and motioned with his head toward the clean white cottage half a mile up the slight incline of the dirt and cobble road. The horseman noted the wooden fence surrounding the cottage; it too was clean and white.

...there's one last thing, he added. A rumor that I've yet to check out.

And that is? the occupant of the coach asked.

That is...something I'll have to ask the midwives about. the horseman answered, shrugging, and then there was silence as another laugh was heard.

Such a lovely laugh, said the voice from the coach. I noticed her last evening when I was--

"--out for one of your strolls?" the horseman said, smiling. But realizing he might have just insulted the one in the coach, he lowered his eyes, his smile evaporating as he hung his head.

You know me all too well, my friend! the soft voice laughed, and the horseman lifted his gaze once more, relieved. But...please find out as much as you can about the girl; I'm sure I'm not the only one who will eventually take interest... There was then a tap from the inside, signaling the driver to start, and the horseman stepped back, watching as a cloud of dust quickly hid his view as the coach sped off.

* * *

Nadia? Yes, yes, very sweet girl; very thoughtful, very quiet. the greengrocer woman said. Why do you ask?

Oh, I've seen her walking around town with baskets sometimes, sometimes with bundles of wash. The greengrocer woman eyed the stranger closely for a moment but only listened. Is she...as they say?

...Yes. was the woman's reply. Nadia was once a boy. For... she counted on her fingers to be sure; For twelve years. She is twenty, now. The inquisitive man, whom she still did not trust, angered her now by laughing.

Well, what; did it fall off or something? he said, grinning, but the woman placed her hands on her considerable hips, frowning. He knew instantly he had used the wrong tactic.

Why don't you ask her yourself? the woman answered curtly, and turned to go back into her shop.

Uh, perhaps I will - thank you madam... the man said, turning, but he paused, looking down the dusty road at the rest of the small shops and stores lining it. There was blue-gray smoke rising from the chimneys of the many cottages scattered about the surrounding hills, and he saw he had his work cut out for him.

The air was chilly. But knowing he had just made it chillier where he stood, he pulled the sides of his cap down over his ears, glanced back at the greengrocer's now empty doorway and headed off down the road, leading his horse by the reins.

Petrov looked and dressed the part he played: a humble traveling cobbler looking for work. His coat was frayed but it was thick and warmer than it appeared; his trousers, dirty and travel-worn, also served him well in rain or shine; and though the creases and folds of his old boots were lined with dried mud and dust, they were comfortable and perfectly capable of keeping his feet dry in the worst of conditions. But though he looked rather haggard and harmless in this guise, his mind was clear and alert, his eyesight keen, and as he strolled now along the dusty road, he absently patted one of the tools of his real trade, contained in the long slender wooden case slung from his horse's saddle. It was not a rifle by the shape of it, but something valuable enough to have its own sheath.

Smiling his most charming smile as he went along, Petrov nodded a greeting to two more shopkeepers preparing their establishments for the business of the day. They nodded back, one of them giving him a friendly wave of the hand. But he decided to pass these two by, before stopping to question a third.

It would arouse less suspicion that way.

Stopping at what looked like a cheese and milk merchant's store, Petrov watched as the man came out, wiping his hands on his apron.

Good morning, sir, Petrov said, grinning as charmingly as he knew how.

And a good morning to you! the dairyman replied. Visiting, are we?

Why, yes! And looking for work, if there is any, Petrov said. Leaning against his horse he lifted his foot off the ground, pointing at his boot. Cobbler by trade...

I see. You might start right there... the shopkeeper laughed, indicating the worn condition of the cobbler's own boot, and Petrov chuckled right along with him.

Well, I've seen a few pair that need more work than my own, he said, standing with both feet on the ground again. A girl of twenty passed by just a short while ago, carrying bundles. Black hair; skin like milk; slender-bodied and very, very--

--Ah, Nadia! the shopkeeper said, smiling. Yes - very beautiful, you mean.

Yes, that too of course, Petrov said, nodding. But also very, very needful of a new pair of boots. The milk merchant came down another step, and wiping his hands once more, leaned closer to the stranger.

She and her mother and her grandfather - they get by - but only just... the merchant said in a confidential tone. As we all do, I might add...

Petrov only nodded, his face serious for a moment. He knew that a show of empathy had always gotten him what he wanted.

Never a truer word has been spoken, friend, he whispered, just loud enough to allow the man to hear the introspection in his voice.

So...it may be long before they can afford new shoes for her... the merchant said, shaking his head. Again Petrov nodded, finishing with a single shake of his head to express sympathy. He waited for the silence to continue just long enough to show a change in thought.

But...I have also heard a rumor about this girl, this...Nadia. he said gently. I find it hard to believe - seeing how lovely she is - and I think it must be a fabrication by someone trying to discredit her, or her family.

Oh that! the man said, good-naturedly. "That Nadia was born a boy, and lived as one for more than half her life - that rumor, you mean? Why it's not a fabrication at all. And, if she had simply become as pretty as some of the other girls in the hamlet, that would have been one thing: a miracle, in fact - compared to how scrawny and awkward she was when she was a he!"

Petrov listened intently, watching for any sign of deceit or tale-spinning in the man's eyes, but could see none. He continued to smile pleasantly at the man's words.

Ah, rather homely Eduard was - that was her boy-name - but still very sweet and friendly. the man continued. But now, now she has become one of the most beautiful girls in the land, and...it's beyond miraculous; like a princess she is! So, once homely, thrice lovely, in her case!

Princess? the cobbler asked, unable to conceal his interest in that particular term. "...which...Princess, would you say?" The merchant smirked, not sure if he liked being questioned in this manner.

Do I look like I know many Princesses? he almost laughed. Does this hamlet seem like a place where Princesses would be running about? I don't know - a...a faery Princess maybe, or an Elfish one. Perhaps Nadia is some magical creature, born male and blossoming into full womanhood at the rising of some full moon.

"And...everyone knows this? Knows her history?" Petrov said, trying hard not to let his sudden bewilderment show. The shopkeeper nodded.

It has never been a secret, he said, but then he caught sight of something in the distance and turned that way. Ah! The milk is finally arriving for the day. He turned back to the visitor. I must make ready for--

--Of course, of course, my friend, Petrov said with a smile. I have already taken too much of your time. Thank you, and may your day be pleasant... Petrov turned his horse and walked further off down the road, stopping at a well-treed corner beyond the last of the shops and before the first of cottages. There, more or less out of view, he mounted and road into the surrounding forest, making for a faint path he had found the day before; a shortcut to where the girl would be passing by further down the road. He rode on steadily, crouching in the saddle whenever a low-hanging branch would offer to focus his attention more forcefully, and finally arrived at the spot he had used once or twice before. Dismounting, he unstrapped the wooden case from the saddle and took it to an opening in the trees which offered a good view of the road down below as well as one of the cottages where the girl delivered her laundry.

His thoughts were still unsettled. In the week or so that he had been on this assignment, he had heard, either by direct questioning or by eavesdropping, the accounts of just about everyone in the hamlet concerning the girl known as Nadia. As instructed, he had followed her every move during each day; watching, listening, taking notes.

He now undid the cap at one end of the wooden case and withdrew a long, beautiful brass telescope, most of which was covered over with a dull black paint. He took his usual spot, sitting beneath a particular tree, and propping the telescope on one knee, he peered down at the road far below. The magnification of his scope was such that the two-hundred yard distance was reduced to ten, and for a moment he turned the scope this way and that, using the eyepiece to focus on several stationary objects along the road. The sun was nearly at its zenith and it was a sparkling clear day. He wondered, absently, if there would be anything interesting to see today; something he had not already seen.

About ten minutes later the girl came into view, walking unconcernedly along with two large tied bundles of clothes held against her front. She wore a dark ankle-length skirt, a light-colored blouse with loose sleeves, and had a black and flower-patterned babushka tied in the customary fashion on her head; jet-black hair, quite long, billowed out behind her in the breeze. Petrov also noted, with an unconscious twist of his lips, that the girl was wearing the same road-worn brown leather boots she always wore. They seemed out of place with her other clothes, seemed too big for her somehow, clomping along even though her gait was smooth and even. She was indeed quite unlike any of the other girls in figure, being slim, small-breasted and slender of hip. And though her legs were completely covered as was also the custom, Petrov could tell, by the way her skirt sometimes clung to her in the breeze, that they were as shapely and well-made as the rest of her.

Princess Nadia. he whispered to himself. He shrugged. "It wouldn't be at all surprising, would it, Petrov, my dear fellow? Certainly not Prince as some would have you believe, but as close to a Princess as you have ever seen, eh?" He smiled absently at the thought, but suddenly he leaned forward, staring hard through the eyepiece.

The girl had stopped. She now glanced up and then down the road - apparently to assure herself that no one was watching - and then stepped into the grass beside the road. Petrov watched as she set her parcels down, turn, and walk off into the trees on the side of the road. He reached up to adjust his scope, bringing the scene closer to him. He could just barely make the girl out in the shadows, but could see her lift her skirt before squatting down behind a big tree. She remained that way for a moment or two then stood and came back out from the undergrowth, smoothing her skirt as she did. Picking up her bundles, she continued down the road as before.

Oh what are you to do, Petrov my friend? he whispered to himself. She does not even piss like a boy and yet they say she is! He would be adding this to his notes but did not know how it would look on the report - or even how it would matter. As he considered all these things, his eye and his scope were still following their target, an instinct honed from long years of practice. The girl was now turning off the road and going through the gate of the cottage there, carrying her bundles to the front porch.

Not a bad job, however, he whispered to himself, Watching a pretty girl walking along on a pretty day; much more pleasant than other times... He thought briefly of some of his other assignments, some quite grotesque, others simply gruesome, and shook his head. Yes, this is much more agreeable... he chuckled, and was just thinking it was time to pack up and head to the next location when he saw the girl stop dead in her tracks as if frozen.

Quickly he turned his scope to the left and right of her, thinking perhaps she had seen a snake. He had a pistol but did not know if he could make a shot at something so small from such a distance.

What! he whispered, What are you staring at, girl?

He continued to move his scope around, studying the bushes, the low grasses around the cottage. And then, around the side of the house, in the barn out back, he happened to see a flash of skin. His scope was at the extent of its magnification but he steadied it on his knee and strained to see everything he could. But because of the distance and the height from which he was viewing, there was little else he could see. Frustrated, he focused once more on the girl and saw her still standing there frozen in place. With a curse, Petrov jumped up and hurriedly slipped the telescope back into its box as he grabbed his horse's reins. In a second he was gone, leading his horse as fast as he could down the slope, dust rising in clouds around him, his eyes always in the direction of the cottage so he would not lose sight of it.

* * *

The sound of horse's hooves slowing and finally stopping outside, alerted the woman working in her kitchen. She turned just in time to see a large, rough-hewn man barge in through the door and stand there in the open doorway, leering at her.

Ah Maria! You are looking well since last I saw you. he said, shutting the door behind him. He removed his hat and tossed it on the table where the woman had been rolling dough, then quickly turned his attention to the elderly man now struggling to stand with the help of a cane. No need to get up, old man, he said to him. You may as well rest; this will take some time. Turning his gaze back to the woman, he loosened his tie.

Take your clothes off whore, and do it quickly... he said, and without a word, the woman began undressing. He took a seat in one of the chairs around the table, smiling as each article of clothing came off, until at last she stood naked before him.

Very nice, as I said, Maria... he chuckled. But you...you're so thin. Not been eating well, have you? The woman remained silent, her eyes cast down. She only looked up when she heard the man snap his fingers.

Then come: eat, drink, enjoy! he laughed, and still sitting, he untied the front of his trousers and opened his fly. What he pulled out quickly became hard, and he slowly pulled the foreskin back to expose its swelling head.

Come now, don't be shy, Maria, my beauty, he said, grinning a yellow grin and spreading his knees. Just as all our other times together...

A moment later the woman was kneeling before him, leaning toward his thick shaft. The shape of it disgusted her - as did the man it belonged to - but its unwashed smell made her queasy. She took a quick breath before lowering her head and then put her lips around its head, moistening it with her saliva. She heard a sigh from the man, and holding her breath, lunged downward, letting him fill her mouth. For a moment or two she remained that way, the knoblike head of the thing at the back of her throat, and when she lifted up, she did it slowly, her lips tight around its girth. She knew this would please him but she never did this thing for his pleasure; she never had. It was simply that she could bathe his erection with her lips, removing at least a little of its stench, and now before she took another breath, she spat most of his unclean residue down onto her lap.

With the smell slightly better now, she closed her eyes and began plunging up and down more quickly, feeling the thing stiffen and thicken as she knew it would. If she were lucky, she would be through in minutes and so let her mind drift off, imagining that the thing in her mouth belonged to someone else; someone from years before. She smiled inwardly at the memory, her mouth too widely spread to actually form the expression.

* * *

Just under three miles away, Nadia stood transfixed, her eyes unblinking in the glare of the midmorning sun. The breeze which had cooled the land somewhat was just a whisper now, barely able to get through the surrounding trees, but as the heat began to build and spread through her dark headscarf, Nadia barely noticed; her curiosity and interest peaked. No more than thirty feet away in the corner of the barn were two of her schoolmates, framed in the open doorway to what was the tool and harness area. And though they were in the shadows, nothing much was hidden from her view. The soft moans and gasps that had attracted her attention earlier still floated toward her through the still, breathless air, but now, now that she could see why those sounds were being made, her mouth fell open.

Nadia had seen shirtless young men working in the sun before, or girls her age planting or harvesting in fields with their skirts pulled up and knotted about their knees to keep them from dragging - leaving their bare legs exposed. But she had certainly never seen anything like this and trying once more to drag her eyes from the sight, she suddenly knew she did not really want to. Moving slowly, as if in a dream, she crept behind the front corner of the cottage so she would not be noticed, and taking a quick breath to calm herself, peeked out again.

Katia, a beautiful blonde girl she had known in school, was on her knees on the straw-covered floor, her discarded clothing scattered about her and Nadia could not keep her eyes from wandering, examining each detail of her friend's body. She had always adored Katia, especially after the girl had intervened when some of the boys had been badgering and bullying her years ago (when she had still been Eduard), and since then had admired how she had developed physically. She had never seen the girl without clothes on as she was now - the long skirts, long-sleeved blouses and headscarves they all wore covering everything - but now nothing was hidden and Nadia stood there staring, a half-formed expression of delight on her lips.

But whereas Nadia was slender of build, Katia was full-bodied and sturdily built, with large, perfectly shaped breasts, a muscular concave to her belly, strong shoulders and solidly shaped thighs and calves; even her feet seemed strong and shapely at the same time. But though fit and trim, the girl was somehow feminine at the same time.

But now Nadia's gaze began to take in other parts of the girl's body, seemingly all at once, and she thought of how full and shapely the girl's buttocks were, how large and firm her breasts looked. Even before Nadia had begun living as a girl, her admiration of the girl had started to include envy: Katia was someone Nadia wished to be like, to look like, to act like.

And now, with splash of sunlight making the girl's golden skin almost glow, Nadia saw how beautifully the girl's bare body contrasted with the dark wood and the deep shadows of that corner of the barn. And seeing this, Nadia felt a warmth rising through her core; a warmth which made her blush.

Once more she found herself admiring the girl, how pretty and womanly she was, but now she envied something else: the very fact that Katia could allow herself to be so shameless and so uninhibited - so utterly exposed so that someone, like herself, might see. A part of her stirred, a part which had taken her attention more and more in recent weeks, but when she turned her eyes to the other reason which made her stare, she felt her heart quicken at the sight.

Facing Katia, standing right there before her, was another of her childhood friends: Sasha. The handsome boy had grown to be quite a handsome young man in everyone's estimation (especially with most of the village girls) with his beautiful deep eyes and shock of shiny black hair. This had been Nadia's estimation as well, but now it had increased considerably because Sasha was likewise wearing nothing but the hair on his head as he stood tall and motionless before Katia. And though Nadia had glimpsed it at the very first, she now let her eyes go back to the very spot where all this unrestrained nakedness seemed to focus. Gulping, she forgot to breathe for a moment as her eyes went to that place.

Connecting the two lovers was the long, thick, delicate-looking organ jutting stiffly from Sasha's crotch and being revealed and concealed over and over again by Katia's anxiously sucking mouth. Nadia could scarce believe how huge the thing was - how wide the girl's mouth had to open to receive it - and as she continued staring, her own body responded. A shivering sensation made a part of her lift up beneath her skirt and though she knew it was not nearly as thick and long as the one standing from the boy's body, it was now every bit as hard as what she was gazing at. Captivated, she watched in silent fascination for several moments, watching how Katia - despite her obvious enthusiasm - seemed only able to take two-thirds of that length each time she lunged forward.

Nadia crept closer, making sure her boots made no sound, wanting to see more of this incredible sight. She remembered seeing these two sharing a kiss beneath a stand of trees by one of the shops in town. It had caused her to stop and stare just as she was doing now. It had been such a simple thing, that kiss: so carefree, so natural; the very thing Nadia had dreamed of doing, of having, of enjoying. But she had quickly forced herself back to work, back to her delivery route, not wanting the familiar cloud of darkness to intrude in her thoughts, but also because she did not want anyone to see the expression on her face and know how desperately she yearned for such things.

--And she did yearn for them, even knowing there were none interested or willing to be with her. It simply was not possible, even if the entire village did not know of her difference. Feeling her heart about to break, she had walked by even faster that day, trying to put distance between her and the reminder of what she was not. But now, seeing them engaged in this act, she wished the distance were less, and even less than that. This was beyond wistful thoughts of romance and hand-holding and she could not tear her eyes from the sight and could not keep her body from responding to it.

She studied every contour of her Sasha's profile: the pretty, thick hairs at the base of his organ; the tense ridges of his firm belly; the way he stood with his pelvis pushed outward at Katia, and the sound of his deep, excited breathing accompanied by the heaving in and out of his muscular chest. Below, Katia continued almost mindlessly, her eyes closed, her mouth spread wide to accept her Sasha's girth, her lightly haired legs tensed, and her nipples jutting excitedly from her heavily swaying breasts. Without realizing it, Nadia had opened her mouth slightly, mimicking how wide open Katia's mouth was as it slid to and fro along around Sasha's prong. She imagined for a moment that she was in the girl's place, doing that very same thing to the boy and it made her own stiffness increase until it ached within her undergarments.

But when the blonde girl paused to catch her breath, leaning back on her heels, Sasha's erection was left fully exposed. Nadia's thoughts suddenly swirled, her heart racing: it was easier now to imagine herself in the girl's place, naked and on her knees, with that glorious shaft jutting out at her, her head tilting back as she looked up into the handsome face of her lover.

Once more Nadia looked at the girl, smiling to herself at how beautiful she was, how attractive and enticing, but no sooner had she lifted her eyes back to the boy's prong she found she could not take her eyes off of it. It was really the first time she had seen another example of what she had been born with, and now that she looked - really looked - she noticed something quite different.

Again there was an old pang in her heart, so familiar by now: her difference. Once again she was shown that she had never been normal, had never been right in any way, shape or form.

--And now she was once more reminded of the shape.

Sasha's prong sagged slightly under its own weight, its own mass, and as it did, loose skin seemed to slip down and cover its head like a sheath. It was not like hers, not at all: even when completely limp, the head of her organ was always exposed, but seeing how different Sasha's organ was, made her feel even more inferior, more inadequate and isolated than ever before.

Staring down at the ground around her boots, everything seemed suddenly blurry, watery and out of focus. She blinked the tears from her eyes, and as she felt them running down her cheeks, she tried to comprehend this newfound deformity she had never known existed. Wanting no longer to be there - to be anywhere - and to simply fade away and be forgotten, she glanced up one last time, thinking that perhaps a return to work would help her forget these things. But the sight of her friends' continued nakedness accomplished the same task by bringing other thoughts to fill her mind.

She wondered, secretly (trying to keep the thought from her innermost heart), if Sasha - or any man for that matter - could ever want someone like her. It was difficult to imagine such a handsome boy kneeling before her, taking her organ in his mouth as Katia was, but even harder to imagine doing the other things males and females did: she was simply not made that way. There were stories and rumors of men being with men, but even then, with the exception of that one part of her, she knew she no longer looked anything like what they apparently desired.

She looked once again at Katia, still panting, smiling up at Sasha with her eyes alight, and her thoughts were the same about her: she knew girls were sometimes attracted to other girls, but would one of those want a girl with a penis growing from her body?

There was then a pressure - an ache - and something moved and slipped down below. Nadia glanced down and saw that the bulge had formed in the front of her skirt once more. It had relaxed and diminished somewhat while her thoughts had been darkened with her own insecurities, but when she had imagined a boy putting his pretty mouth on her, or even some girl spreading her legs open to her, her erection had instantly returned. She pushed it down, as had become an instinct, but found it too stiff, too unrelenting, and so let the bundles of laundry in her arms sag a bit, letting their weight press down and cover her embarrassment.

But it would not budge. It ached, feeling as though it would snap off at its base, and she found herself wishing it would break off so she could be done with it and never have it bother her again. Irritated at herself, at this betrayal of her body, a soft giggle from the barn tore her from her frustrations and made her look up.

Katia, still breathing excitedly, had reached up and seized Sasha's beautiful organ, her hand seeming tiny in comparison to the size of it. Her fingers were barely able to encircle it, but now she squeezed it and began rubbing it back and forth along its length, its loose sheath sliding back. And as the girl smiled up at the bulging head of the thing, it seemed to swell even more.

Nadia was reminded of her own hardness and for a moment imagined she was where Sasha was, standing there having the girl hold her like that; rubbing her like that. Pushing her earlier thoughts aside, she allowed herself to pretend that Katia was not concerned that she had breasts and curving hips like she did - that in fact the girl did not mind making love to another girl - and then further pretended that Katia did not even care if that girl happened to have a penis jutting from her crotch.

She felt her nipples rise up into points against the inside of her blouse at the very thought of such a thing, and when Katia suddenly rose up on her knees and kissed the head of Sasha's prong, Nadia shivered inside, almost able to feel what that would be like.

Lips, soft and moist, delicately touching me...there.

Nadia blinked when she noticed the girl getting to her feet, crumbs and strands of straw falling from her knees. She watched as Katia moved closer to Sasha, and standing on tip-toe, kissed him on the mouth; her hand still working his stiffness, its loose outer skin sliding back and forth gently, its uncovered head looking both delicious and alluring. Nadia's eyes were there, her mind where Sasha stood, imagining her lips now smearing this way and that against Katia's, all the while feeling the girl's hand touching, caressing, squeezing her most intimate place.

For long moments the two lovers held each other, kissing in quickly rising passion. Even the hard flesh protruding between them was forgotten while their kiss lingered, and Nadia saw herself once more as Katia, straining up on her toes to reach the taller boy's mouth, but then fantasized being Sasha, kissing the girl, his hands now cupping her shapely rear, his organ jutting into her taut belly.

And then, her eyes glazing slightly, a smile lifting her lips, Nadia imagined Katia standing just as she was, but with an erection of her own rubbing lengthwise against Sasha's, one on top of the other as she heard men sometimes did together. It made her own organ stir again beneath her clothes, felt a wetness there, the same as what was oozing just then from the tip of Sasha's erection. She shifted uncomfortably where she stood, her mind now filling with thoughts of being with Katia, kissing unashamedly while their erect organs rubbed together slowly and passionately, becoming slick with what oozed from each, their kissing becoming heated and moist while down below their urges slipped and slid back and forth. Sighing in the midst of that vision, Nadia however noticed movement from the corner of her thoughts, and pulled instinctive back behind the edge of the cottage.

Oh, sweet Sasha...yes... Katia whispered, nodding to the boy as their kiss finally ended. In the stillness of that sunny windless moment, the girl's deep, needful tone made Nadia tremble inside. Leaning cautiously out to steal another glance, she found that Katia and Sasha had switched places. The girl, brushing the last bits of straw off her knees, put her arms straight out to the wall as she leaned forward at the waist, and as the boy went around behind her, she placed her feet a little further apart and curved her lower back, making her bottom roll back at Sasha. Looking coyly over her shoulder, Katia giggled and nodded to the boy, and then he stepped up close behind her, his hand working to keep his heavy organ stiff. He began to rub the head of his shaft up and down against Katia's sex, and a moment or two after that, he leaned forward with his hips, the entire length of his shaft slowly sinking up into the girl's body.

Nadia heard a shivering inhalation from the girl and a moan of contentment from the boy, and then a silence broken only by the sound of the soft breeze in the trees around the cottage.

"Oh my..." someone inhaled softly and then, realizing it had been her own voice, Nadia covered her mouth with a hand as she continued to stare. For a long moment, perhaps two, Sasha and Katia remained as they were, one inside the other, neither of them breathing nor moving.

It was only when Sasha pulled back and pushed in again that Nadia realized she had been as still and breathless as they both had. Her face grew warm and flushed, her heart dancing in her chest, and when Katia suddenly gasped, Nadia gasped right along with her.

And then Sasha began to thrust, that moment of stillness at an end, and though he started slowly and gently at first it was only a moment or two before he was ramming harder and faster, shoving and pulling roughly, his pelvis seeming to move on its own. And as the intensity increased, Katia's own passions were released, and she began to roll and shove her bottom back and forth against Sasha's thrusts just as feverishly, matching his passion with hers.

Sasha...my sweet Sasha... the girl moaned after nearly two minutes of almost violent, surging movement. It went on for a while more, the girl catching her breath and groaning as she shoved backward against those thrusts. Then, taking a shuddering breath, she sighed, ...when you...when you're ready, put it in my ass, okay?

Nadia saw the boy nod but now she was watching how his hands gripped and massaged the girl's full, jiggling breasts as he rammed away, the moist smacking sound of their bodies slapping together now added to the harsh rasp of their excited breathing.

Again Nadia imagined herself as Katia, having such a thing done to her, having something rammed up between her legs, buried deep inside her, having hands squeezing and touching and enjoying her breasts. She found herself wondering what it felt like, what it would really feel like to be Katia, and she gasped, covering her mouth again, still afraid of discovery. But the passionate sounds filling that small room in the barn was more than able to cover any sounds she could have made.

And then, everything stopped.

Sasha quickly pulled himself out of Katia's still undulating body, his prong shiny and slick with her arousal, then took hold of it, tilted it up just slightly, and began to push. The girl let out a soft moan, took a deep breath, and then sighed slowly out as she pushed backward against that rigid thing, pushing until it suddenly slid partway in. Drawing another deep breath, she held it as she pushed further back, and then Sasha took her by the hips and inched himself closer, his organ slowly sinking deeper, and then deeper into her.

Nadia watched this, almost wincing, until the boy's prong was completely buried. She held her breath until she saw him pull back and thrust once, twice, thrice more, and felt a quivering in her body when he finally shoved all the way into Katia and remained buried; his body shaking, his breath seeming to have been pushed out of him.

Oh - oh, gods...Katia..!

Nadia blinked, her mouth falling open as she heard Katia moan low in her throat. The girl's head hung between sweating, straining arms, her golden hair clinging to her shoulders and back. She watched as the girl pushed back against Sasha, her body shuddering in delight, her hips rolling and swiveling and pushing back, every muscle in her body tense, her skin dripping and flushed. And when the girl moaned and gasped again, Nadia saw how the boy pressed tightly up against her, curving his body to hers, his prong so deeply buried between the girl's buttocks nothing showed of it at all.

...Yes, my sweet! Katia groaned. Yes, give me; give me...all...of...you!

Nadia took a step backward, feeling a pulsing in her neck which made her head swim. She stumbled but caught herself before falling and took yet another backward pace. The intimacy of that ultimate moment seemed to have shoved her away and now there was a quivering in her belly: her navel and rectum seemed connected by a cord which was twisting and pulling and clenching, making her erection stiffer than it ever had been. It tingled and throbbed, seemingly connected to that tight, tugging sensation, becoming almost numb on the outside. Inside it felt as though she needed to pee and she panicked, gasping, tensing herself down there, not wanting to wet herself. Her belly began to squeeze inward and she took another step back, not knowing what was happening and afraid that it somehow already had.

Her legs felt strangely weak having been tense for so long, but she turned with her bundles and made her way shakily to the front of the cottage, the throbbing feeling in her erection making her walk unsteadily, her body bent as she tried to lessen the ache she felt there. Leaving the bundle of laundry on the front step, she turned and hurried back out to the road, holding the remaining bundle low in front of her, trying to hide, trying to make the feeling go away. She felt dizzy, her heart still racing at what she had seen, but kept walking on, taking deep breaths to calm herself.

But even as she struggled along up the road, thoughts of Katia and Sasha kept returning to her; frozen images, and memories which moved as if living. She had never seen anything so arousing before, so exhilarating, and so beautiful. It would have been more than enough to simply have seen her friends naked as they had been, but what they had been doing had gone far beyond what she had ever imagined.

Desperately she pushed the last remaining parcel down against the stiffness beneath her skirt but it was still as hopeless as before. It lifted, becoming warmer and more swollen than ever, and she took a breath and eased the weight off it. Walking on, trying not to think about it, wanting to shove the memories away, she nonetheless found herself once more imagining being Katia, her lips wet and tight, sliding around Sasha's beautiful shaft, and then was herself again, doing the same thing. She wanted it, wanted to do that - wished she could - and now there was the impulse to run back, to ask if she could join them, to let her get down on her knees and do what Katia had done. Or to stand there naked, leaning with her hands on the wall, having Sasha penetrating her from behind, in one hole, then the other; deeply, forcefully.

Endlessly.

Taking a deep breath she exhaled slowly, shuddering, shaking her head as she remembered that, unlike her blonde friend, she had only one opening to offer the boy; to offer anyone. But it would be something she would offer gladly if given the chance. Thoughts swarmed through her head about what it must have been like to be Sasha, to be standing there seeing Katia's golden head going back and forth along his organ. She blinked, and now she was the one leaning back against the wall, gazing down between her glistening breasts as Katia did the same thing to her - to what was still lifting up hard and tender beneath her skirt.

Nadia found that she had stopped in her tracks in the hot morning sun, staring blankly down at the top of the bundle she held, almost seeing through it; seeing a beautiful naked girl kneeling before her, nursing anxiously on her prong. Again there was the feeling that she would lose control and wet her skirt, and after long moments fighting that urge, she gave up trying to make her organ settle down and lifted her eyes.

A short distance ahead there was an inviting shadow beneath a tree and went that way, trudging along until the coolness of the shade enveloped her. She saw a comfortable looking rock, and laying her last bundle down, she sat, elbows on knees, face in her hands. For a moment she tried to think of anything else, tried to focus her attention on the sound of the breeze through the trees, how a sudden gust made the leaves hiss and clatter, but the aching presence now pushing up between her thighs kept her thoughts adrift, fluttering through her mind like the leaves around her.

Absently, almost instinctively, she reached down around the bottom of her skirt, and in through the leg-hole of her underwear, wanting to push her erection down, hoping to recapture it within the confines of her undergarment. It was painfully stiff, almost too sensitive to touch and was as wet and slimy as the soaked crotch of her underpants. A tingling, throbbing sensation seemed to grip her organ, making the knot behind her navel clench as tightly it had earlier, and when a warm pressure suddenly formed deep inside, she felt on the verge of something - the very brink - and quickly took her hand away, scared of what might happen. Feeling tears warming her eyes, her face burning against her hands, she tried to compose herself by taking a slow breath but found it impossible; her shaky inhalation followed by the sounds of her weeping inconsolably. She felt defeated, betrayed by her very birth and alone; more alone than she had ever felt in her life. Sniffling, she sighed, deciding she would simply sit there and wait to see if things would settle.

Behind her, at some distance, sunlight glinted off a disk of polished glass, but gazing miserably down at her feet, Nadia did not see it.

Chapter Two – In the Past

At times like these, Maria was apt to let her mind go elsewhere, to let her thoughts go where they might, but for a moment she was reminded of her present circumstance by the incessant movement of the thing in her sex.

Opening her eyes slowly, she looked straight down at the wrinkled bedspread beneath her, at the way her hands made indentations in the fabric. She was on hands and knees on her bed, just as she had been for the past quarter hour or so, bracing herself against the forceful thrusts of the man kneeling behind her. Presently, he mumbled something - a curse most likely - but she paid no attention; he was like that.

Always.

But she knew she had perhaps let things go too far while they had still been out in the kitchen; had let the erotic power of those cherished memories overwhelm her. She had quickly become aroused as she had been that particular time years before, her head plunging up and down vigorously, passionately. But it had been too passionate; at least for this smelly man. He had caught her head in his hands to make her stop, saying he wanted to enjoy her in the other ways he usually did and not just fill her mouth. When she had opened her eyes she caught a glimpse of something bordering on adoration in her tormenter's expression; surprise and admiration seemed to veil it, but it was definitely there.

It almost made her laugh.

She cared not in the least what this man felt or thought or assumed: she had been using him - not the other way around. She had nearly gotten to her feet then and turning, would have sat in his lap and taken his pathetically vile prong up inside her. He would have liked that, she was sure; but she would have enjoyed it more, riding him hard and giving herself to her own pleasure while thinking of those distant lost times. If he had gushed prematurely - as she still hoped he would do - then so much the better. But if she had not satisfied herself, she would have then treated him to the most uninhibited display of masturbation he had most likely ever witnessed.

But while she was thinking these things he had grabbed her hand and led her to the bedroom and she calmed herself, grinning behind his back as she followed. Even when he removed the rest of his clothes and got on her face to face, that calm enabled her to let her mind drift at will.

But where had her mind just been? She thought back for a moment or two, then nodded, a faint smile crossing her lips. Closing her eyes, she let herself remember, while she was jolted forward and back by the man's urgent thrusts.

It had not been long before - perhaps at the beginning of summer when the sun was out more often than not - and it had been one of those moments where time seemed to hold its breath. She saw herself standing before the dress-maker's shop down in the village, looking in the window with her daughter, Nadia, standing at her side. The girl had just made twenty, and as they both stood gazing in at the pretty things displayed in the shop's window, Maria glanced at the reflection of her daughter's eyes in the pane of glass, and her smile began to match the one of wonder and happiness in the girl's expression. Seeing it made her feel young herself, but more than that, it made her feel happy inside.

It was difficult at times to believe that the lovely young woman standing beside her had begun life as a boy. It was easy to forget those first few years because of the remarkable way the male had transformed into female. But forgetting those earlier years was something she hoped her daughter would be able to do one day - at least better than she herself - because of the pain and anguish those years had produced.

Distantly, as if through a silent fog, Maria heard a man cursing at her, felt the thickness of his shaft plunging, pushing, flexing inside her, but that reality faded almost to a dream because an image of the earlier version of Nadia now seemed to float into her consciousness, replacing all else.

Bruised and with scrapes on both legs, her ten year old son had stood there in the open doorway to their cottage, looking sad and forlorn. It had been a rough and tumble afternoon of football and the other boys had not been kind - just as they were always unkind - especially when tackling. Indeed at every possible turn, the village boys delighted in deriding Nadia (no, her son was still called Eduard then, she reminded herself), ridiculing any attempt by the boy to be one of them.

She remembered quite clearly the expression of sullen despair written on the boy's pale face as she sat him on the kitchen table and tended to the scrapes and cuts.

They always tell me how funny my legs look, momma... Eduard had murmured at some point between winces and hisses of pain as the astringent stung raw skin.

But you have very handsome legs, my darling. she replied.

I have girl's legs! That's what they say! the boy said, suddenly looking up and staring directly into her eyes. Maria had been taken aback by that look - a look of smoldering anger and confusion - but she had simply dropped her own gaze to a scraped knee, daubing more of the strong-smelling tincture on it.

Well, they are still a very fine pair of legs, my sweet... she whispered, letting the conversation end there.

The feeling of a stubbly face between her breasts brought her once more back to the present. A rough, whiskered mouth started sucking on her nipples; one and then the other, then back again. She wished and prayed for it to be over, cursing herself for having lost control earlier and allowing things to take on this whole new, extended dimension.

Maria, my little whore, you are so hot this morning! the man mumbled as he raised his mouth from her breast. He shoved hard into her, making her wince. Yes, you like this, don't you? He pushed up on his hands and leaned back on his heels, grabbing both her ankles and hauling her legs up over his shoulders. He began thrusting again but now turned his head and started to kiss her calves, using one hand to reach down and squeeze her breasts while the other ran up and down the length of her lightly haired leg.

That's why I love fucking you more than all the other widow-sluts in town. he said in a calm, conversational tone. "Something just gets into you sometimes,