Hi! My name is Peter or Patricia and I’m a gay transvestite. Ideally I’d like for you to imagine that it’s you who’s experiencing what I shall soon recount but I’ll include a brief description of myself anyway.

I’m tall, 6’2 and slim. My body is completely hairless apart form the short blonde hair on my head and my plucked eyebrows. I’m not totally convincing as a woman but think I look pretty good on the whole. My ass has had its fair share of dildos and vibrators but I’ve yet to experience the real thing. Like every tranny I’m into stockings, suspenders and looking and acting just as feminine as I can be.

About a month ago I joined the local gym. It’s open 24/7 and has its own swimming pool. I needed to loose a little weight and get rid of my slight beer gut. Swimming was the ideal solution. At 11:30 every night Monday to Friday, I head to the gym and its deserted swimming pool.


I was on my way to the locker/changing room after about an hour in the pool. I thought I had the place pretty much to myself but I was wrong. Out of the blue my wrist was grabbed, my arm twisted up my back and my body pushed up against the blue tiled wall. I try to look round but a hand pushes and holds my head against the wall.

“What do you want?”

“Shut it.” My unseen attacker tells me applying more pressure to my arm. If you’ve been fortunate enough not to experience this hold let me tell you it’s very painful and, as I discovered, struggling only increases the pain to your arm and shoulder.

“I know what you are.” He tells me. His voice is deep and I get the feeling he’s deliberately disguising it. My mind is racing. I haven’t told anyone what I really am and since I’m still in the closet, work hard to maintain my mask of masculinity. Before I can answer my wet trunks are tugged down to my knees. Before I knew what was happening, let alone be able to do something about it, one huge hand wraps itself around my cock and balls and squeezes.

“Holy shit.”

“You’re going to do as you’re told, aren’t you bitch?”

“Yes.” The pain was unbelievable and yes it did bring tears to my eyes.

“Eyes front at all times and keep your mouth shut.” He instructs squeezing my manhood even harder.

“OK, ok.”

He releases me, well, my cock and balls anyway, my right arm is still firmly twisted up my back. I reach down and try to massage a bit of life back into my aching balls. I can feel him moving behind me. God knows what he’s doing and at this point I don’t particularly care. Christ my balls hurt. A whiff of Vaseline alerts me to what’s coming. I try to relax but can’t help tensing up a little as I feel the head of penis slide between my butt cheeks. He thrusts.

“Oh my god.” I gasp as his prick invades me. I’ve no idea how big his cock is but it feels huge. Heart racing, I wait as he eases himself into me fully. I feel his pubic hair and balls against my bottom and try to relax. He releases my arm and grips my hips with both hands. Relief floods me as the pain from my arm and shoulder dissipates.

“Hands on the wall. Above your head.” He commands. I reach up and plant both hands on the wall. He’s right up me. My whole body twitches as a spasm of pleasure rocks me and then it begins, my body shakes and trembles, my natural response to penetration. There’s nothing I can do now. All power and control over my body, if not my mind, taken from me by an unseen stranger. In contrast to my shaking body the stranger remains motionless perhaps just content to watch my natural reaction.

“There’s no need to fake it bitch.”

“Christ…does it look like, ooh, I’m fucking, oh god, faking?”

“Sensitive bottom huh?”

“I guess.”


“OH MY GOD.” I cry out. A sharp sting of pain forces my whole body to tense up momentarily intensifying the feelings of pleasure emanating from my bottom..

“Oh god.” I gasp. It’s at this point that I truly realise how powerless I really am. I pray his dick is all he wants to stick in me and hope he’s not some weirdo with a knife and fuck ‘em and kill ‘em policy. The thought panics me but still my body shakes and trembles in a fit of ecstatic pleasure. There’s nothing I can do, my mind a passenger and captive to my body’s desire.

“Oh god.” I say hopelessly as I feel him withdraw a little. He starts to fuck me. Slowly at first, his thrusts, deep and hard, make me stand on tip toes. Then he increases the pace, the rhythm becoming more natural. My mind crumbles, as I knew it would, the pleasure and waves of ecstasy driving all fears and concerns, even thought itself, from my mind. All I can do is feel and god does it feel good.

“Oh no.” I gasp as he takes my cock in his hand but my concerns vanish as he begins to jerk me of .I was truly lost now, adrift in a sea of ecstasy. He pumping hand around my cock makes my hips thrust backwards forcing me grind harder on his thrusting prick which would thrust my hips forward making my cock strain against his grip, which would make my hips thrust backwards again and again and again. I groan unashamedly with pleasure.

“You like that, don’t you bitch?”

“Yes,” I gasp “Oh god yes.” He pumps my ass continuously but release my cock from time to time, letting it go limp before starting again. He teases me mercilessly. My heart is racing. My breathing heavy. My moans and gasps growing in volume. I want to come now. I need to come now. He releases my cock.

“Oh shit.” I cry out in frustration.

“Problem bitch?” he asks still fucking my ass.

“Make me come.” I gasp.

“Beg me.”

I’d never begged for anything in my life before, believing it to be a sign of weakness but as his wraps his hand around my cock once more I simply don’t care.

“Please make me come.” I cry out “Please, I beg you. Please make me come. I’ll do anything, anything you want. Please I’m begging you.” I continue to plead and beg as the speed of his hand increases and then I feel the point of no return. He thrust his cock up me as far as it will. Standing on tip toes again I feel my whole body tense up around his prick, my back arches, my whole body curves like the wood of a bow, his hand jerks me furiously, he starts pumping my ass again. His thrust wild and uncontrolled.

“HO-LY FUCK-ING SHIT.” I shout through clenched teeth. As I feel his spunk filling my ass my own load erupts from my penis. A constant wave of ecstasy fills every fibre of my being. If I tense up any more I think bones will snap. Then without warning my entire body goes limp, my form like that of a rag doll as I wait for the unseen stranger to finish shooting his load into me. I’m totally spent and exhausted. Finally he stops humping my ass.

“Close you eyes and keep them closed.” He instructs me. I do as he says. He pulls his dick out me and I collapse to the floor. I hear his foot steps fade as he walks away. Eyes still closed, more because I was savouring the feeling of being totally fucked and satisfied than in obedience, I lay there catching my breath as spunk oozed and dribbled from my bottom. After a while and feeling that I’d regained some measure of composure and self control, I opened my eyes and, legs still feeling weak, get shakily to my feet. I notice my swimming trunks are practically dry as I take them off and use them to clean his spunk from my ass and my spunk off the wall. I dress and leave not quite sure how to feel and wonder what, if anything, will happen tomorrow night?

The house was haunted, sure—or, at least, that’s what Donna Adams, the real estate agent, told me. She had to, by California law. Ridiculous, of course, but I wasn’t arguing with her, not when the rumor lowered the rent by two thirds. I couldn’t pass up a deal like that. I’d been out of work for months, and my unemployment benefits were all but gone. Luckily, soon after moving to San Rafael, I landed a technical writing job. It didn’t pay all that much (which made my “haunted house” all the more desirable), but it had two perks: I didn’t have a commute, and I didn’t have to put up with the petty office politics that invariably arise in offices.

So, on February 1, I moved in. The place came furnished, which was another plus, since I didn’t have the cash, just now, to buy furniture. The former tenant, Tammy Something, was in her twenties, but she’d had good—and expensive—tastes. Her parents, who actually owned the place, Donna informed me, and were, therefore, my landlords, were obviously wealthy, and either they or Tammy had furnished and decorated the mansion first class, all the way. Everything’s marble and hardwood, and her dishes—yes, even they came with the place—were all china and silver and crystal.

The only downside to the place is that it’s totally feminine: pale pink walls, display cases full of beaded purses and jewelry, a china closet converted into a showcase for her fabulous collection of dolls, silk flowers, impressionist oil paintings of elegant Victorian scenes, a canopy bed with pink curtains and lace, frilly drapes at the windows, and ornamental touches to everything. The effect is beautiful—but it’s also totally feminine in every detail. Still, I didn’t complain; I’d rather live among feminine finery than sleep on the floor, at least until I could save enough for a bed; I’d rather eat off china, with silver, than to pop for paper plates and plastic cutlery; and I’d rather sit on a brocaded couch and watch TV than loll around in a cheap beanbag chair or a futon I can’t really afford.

She even left shelves full of fashion magazines and her clothes—walk-in closets crammed full of them—hundreds of outfits comprised of scores and scores of skirts, shorts, blouses, jackets, hats, scarves, coats, gloves, you name it, right down to her bikinis, bras, panties, and lingerie. She had a couple hundred pairs of shoes alone!

In addition, in each of her five bathrooms, there are bottles of perfume, razors and shaving cream (for her legs, I imagine), and a warehouse of other toiletries. It would take a month just to toss the stuff out, which is why I’m just letting it be. I don’t need much closet space for my own wardrobes, because I don’t have that many clothes. I’m a guy. Besides, I work at home; I don’t need clothes. Most of the time, I go around nude. It’s one of the benefits of living alone and working at home. Well, I don’t live entirely alone. There’s Max, my black tomcat, but he doesn’t give a rat’s ass about seeing my naked ass, cock, or balls. As long as he gets plenty of food and sleep, he’s content.

Donna also told me that Tammy died in the house—or on the patio outside the house, rather: California law requires realtors to advise renters of any deaths that occurred on the premises they’re considering renting.

“How’d she die?” I asked, just curious.

Donna said, “It’s a great house, Mr. Stevens


“—huge, fully furnished, and a steal at only—”

“She was murdered, wasn’t she?” I guessed.

Donna frowned. “On her patio, Rod, not in the house.”

“My God. Who? Why? How?”

“She was stalked. Her stalker eventually killed her. With a knife, I believe.” She paused, sighed, and asked, “So, do you want the place or not?”

“There’s no security deposit, no pet deposit, and no last month’s rent, right?”


“I’ll take it,” I agreed, and wrote her a check.

On her way out the door, she called over her shoulder, “I think, if there is a ghost, Rod—and I’m not saying there is—it’s hers.”

* * *

It took me only a few days to settle into the spacious, luxurious mansion. It took Max a bit longer. Cats are finicky about two things, I’ve found: their food and their surroundings. They don’t tolerate change very well when it comes to either their dinner or their digs.

The job was going well. It was boring, but it paid—not well, but enough, given the reduction in rent and the owner’s willingness to forgo security and pet deposits. My assignment was to write reports about desert hydrology. I could keep at it for only a couple of hours at a time, writing about desert crust, the hydraulic properties of surface soil, infiltration rates, and vegetation control, whereupon my brain would rebel, my eyes would glaze over, and I’d need to take a break.

Then, I’d get up from the computer desk; stretch; walk from the office, down a long corridor, past ornamental vases, ornate tapestries, and bronze figurines and statues in marble and and ivory and jade, to the book-lined mahogany shelves of the spacious library; and thumb the gilt-edged, leather-bound volumes. Tammy’s taste in books was, like her house, first rate, and she had all the essential classics as well as a representative collection of contemporary genres, but these latter were more given to the tastes of women than of men, and included a sizable collection of somewhat tawdry romances, all hardbound. I chuckled at the titles of a few of them: Passion Play, Hearts Adrift, Sultry Summer, and Love’s Inferno, before ambling out to the kitchen to pour myself a fresh cup of coffee.

When I came into the kitchen, Max was crouched beside the refrigerator, his tail waving slowly back and forth. He was staring intently at a point in the middle of the room. What’s his problem? I wondered.

“Not enough turkey in your Poultry Delight?” I peered into his food bowl. Like his water bowl, it was nearly full. “Kitchen’s feng shui not to your liking?”

With a wild screech, Max bolted past me. What the hell? I thought.

He acted as if he’d seen something—

—a ghost—

—but there was no one here but him and me.

I shrugged. Cats could be temperamental sometimes, although, usually, Max wasn’t.

I unscrewed the lid of my favorite brand of instant coffee—I happen to like instant coffee (and it’s cheaper than the brewed stuff)—and followed a spoonful of the dark, aromatic brew with two spoons of sugar, then added water, and placed the mug in the microwave oven. I set the timer for two minutes and twenty-two seconds.

While the coffee was being heated, I went in search of Max, to see whether he’d calmed down. I didn’t like the way he’d acted; I’d never seen him frightened by nothing, although he was in a strange environment, so maybe his kitty nerves were still a little on edge. I looked in the living room and the dining room, but he wasn’t in either place, unless he was hiding under a couch or behind a chest, so I returned to the kitchen, just in time to hear the ding of the oven, advising me that my beverage had been heated for the time I’d specified.

I pressed the release lever and reached inside.

My mug was cold.

I frowned. I’d set the timer for two minutes and twenty-two seconds. I looked at the clock built into the oven. It was 10:38. Two minutes and twenty-two seconds had passed. My coffee should have been piping hot, its ceramic surface warm to the touch. Steam should be rising from the beverage.

But the coffee wasn’t steaming, and the mug wasn’t hot.

I frowned.

I must have made a mistake in setting the timer, I thought. Maybe I’d set twenty-two seconds

instead of two minutes and twenty-two seconds.

I shrugged, setting the timer again. This time, I watched myself do so, careful to press the button firmly each time. Then, I waited by the oven while the coffee heated. Two minutes and twenty-two seconds later, I drew a steaming-hot mug from the oven.

Shaking my head at my own idiocy, I was about to go into the den, to watch a little mid-morning news on the wall-mounted big-screen television, when I paused and sniffed. I couldn’t be sure, but there seemed to be the faintest scent of perfume in the air. I sniffed again. The fragrance lingered—or maybe it did so only in my imagination. The next thing I knew, I chided myself, I’d be seeing Tammy’s ghost!

Chuckling, I continued into the den, where, I found, the TV set was on, and there was the faint

hint of the same perfume I’d smelled—hadn’t I?—a moment ago, in the kitchen.

* * *

The TV wasn’t, really on. I just supposed that it might be on. I also imagined that I might sense a hint of Tammy’s elusive perfume.

Neither incident had actually occurred, but, I realized, it would be easy to let my imagination run away with me, rattling around in this mansion with no one to keep me company but Max, who’d just proved he wasn’t the bravest feline on the planet, and the knowledge that Tammy had been killed just outside these walls, on her—now, for as long as I rented this place, anyway, my—patio and that her twenty-something-year-old ghost supposedly haunted the premises.

I shivered, not at the thought of her ghost, but at the terror she must have felt when the stalker loomed before her, knife in hand. In a sick, twisted way, a knife is a rather personal, even intimate, weapon with which to kill someone. A phallic symbol, it penetrates, but causes death, instead of life. I could picture the blade rising and falling, plunging into her breast as she stared, wide-eyed, screaming, then whimpering, then gurgling, maybe, as she tried to breathe through the blood in her throat and chest.

No, I told myself, there wouldn’t be any turning on of television sets or wearing of perfume, not by Tammy, at any rate.

I’d hoped to catch the local news, but it had been interrupted—or displaced—by reports of a mass murderer who’d opened up with a pair of handguns at a shopping mall somewhere in Tallahassee. “It’s not linked,” the newscaster reassured viewers, “to terrorism.” The talking heads always seemed to know that with such swiftness and with such utter certainty that the denial seemed more propaganda than fact.

After I’d drunk my coffee, I ambled back to the computer desk, still naked, and, with my penis lolling atop my testicles, continued to write my latest report concerning the fascinating subject of desert hydrology.

I didn’t see Max until lunchtime.

He’d quieted down, even condescending, in his aloofness, to let me stroke his satin-smooth fur.

“There are no such things as ghosts, Max,” I reassured him. My tone was confident, but, as I spoke these words of comfort to my feline friend, I recalled the newscaster’s similar reassurance that the mall shooting spree was unrelated to terrorism. Maybe Max wasn’t buying my message any more than a lot of viewers were convinced by the anchor’s reassuring declaration.

I decided to add a little fresh turkey, from a package of sandwich meats I’d bought yesterday, to Max’s dish of Poultry Delight.

He seemed to appreciate my gesture, rewarding me a deep-throated purr as he dined.

* * *

Damn! I was out of cigarettes. Smoking is a stupid, filthy habit, I know, and a health hazard. I know I should quit, but knowing and doing are two different matters. Someday, I tell myself. But “someday” never seems to be today.

I promised myself that I’d do a solid three hours of work, without a break, and then reward myself with a smoke. Now, out of cigarettes, I want one even more than I might have wanted one otherwise. It seems we want anything we can’t have the most, just because we can’t have it.

I’d have to get dressed, cross the street, and buy a pack at the drugstore. I really hated to do so, though; I like being naked. Well, I told myself, the sooner I went, the sooner I’d get back, be able to shed my clothes again, and enjoy a smoke.

My clothes—the few I have—are in the walk-in closet in the master bedroom—the one with the canopy bed with the pink, ruffled curtains and the doll collection and the teddy bears and the vanity table in the bathroom, fully loaded with cosmetics, perfumes, and all the other accoutrements of femininity. I’d just toss on a shirt, a pair of shorts, and a pair of sandals. Ten minutes, later, I’d be back in the mansion, as naked as the day I was born, sucking on a cigarette. I really should quit smoking, I told myself.

Tammy’s closet was the size of some people’s bedroom, and, even at that size, it was packed with outfits, as were her other bedrooms’ walk-in closets. She could have stocked a department store’s women’s department and had togs left over. I couldn’t begin to name all the styles and cuts and designs she had, but there was plenty of everything.

As I reached for a T-shirt that may or may not have been laundered anytime soon, my forearm grazed one of Tammy’s blouses, a peach number in silk. The fabric felt wonderfully sleek and soft against my skin, very pleasant to the touch. I rubbed the material between my thumb and forefinger. It was incredibly smooth, almost like water. It felt sexy. My cock twitched, stirring.

I smiled, never having had an erotic moment simply because of the feel of something. Wasn’t that more a feminine response? Men were more into sight, women into touch and texture, right? My prick didn’t seem to know this, nor did it seem to care. It swelled, becoming thicker and harder as I continued to rub the silk blouse.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of something cherry red. I turned my head to see a pair of Tammy’s thong panties. I’d been in this closet a few times, to hang or fetch a shirt, a pair of jeans, or my shoes, but I hadn’t noticed these panties before, despite their intense hue. None of Tammy’s other underwear was here, just these bright-red thongs.

They looked almost as if they’d been placed here, atop the clothes hamper, for me to find. Guys aren’t all that observant, I guess. I touched the panties. They, too, were smooth and soft. Satin. My cock swelled further. Who would have thought that a blouse and a pair of panties could have such an arousing effect on a guy? Not me, certainly.

I blinked. For a moment, it seemed as though I’d forgotten why I’d come here. I seemed to have been in a daze. I let go of the panties—reluctantly—and grabbed the T-shirt, shorts, and sandals, got dressed, and hurried from the closet. On my way out of the bedroom, I noticed a bottle of Tammy’s perfume. It was on her vanity. On a whim, I sprayed a mist of the perfume: its fragrance was identical to the scent that I’d smelled earlier—or imagined I’d smelled. Impulsively, I dabbed a few drops on my face, enjoying the fragrance. Tammy, I decided, hadn’t only looked good, but she’d smelled good, too.

I was back in eight minutes, flat. There were few customers in the drugstore, it being early afternoon, and I completed my purchase in short order. Locking the great double doors to the main entrance behind me, I ascended the long flight of “S”-shaped stairs to the second floor, where I’d set up my office, and, after enjoying the smoke I’d promised myself, I returned to work, not bothering to strip, as I usually would have done, as, without further delay, I wanted to write a few more pages of my latest report on the fascinating topic of desert hydrology; this one dealt with sampling techniques and was as dry as the sands that drift across the arid landscapes of the parched terrain itself.

What the hell! I thought.

Somehow, a photograph of a transvestite had been save to my computer monitor’s desktop, as its background image. I knew it was a man—albeit, I had to admit, a guy every bit as gorgeous and glamorous as any female model I’d ever seen—because she—or he—sported an erect cock above a pair of good-size, shaved balls. Until the eye noticed these details, the figure was the image of a lovely lady.

Dressed in a bubblegum-pink tank top with spaghetti straps, which showed her narrow waist and concave tummy, and a red leather mini-skirt, white stockings, and ruby stilettos, the dark-haired vixen was tall, slender, and shapely—although whether her boobs were implants or digital enhancements, I had no idea—and all woman, except for her manly cock and balls. She had a familiar face, one I might have seen before, but, of course, that was impossible; I didn’t date or even associate with cross dressers. Still, there was something familiar about this lovely transvestite’s face.

How the hell she—or he—had gotten on my computer screen, I had no clue. Maybe I’d downloaded the image accidentally, along with a virus, when I’d saved some work-related files from the company’s server or maybe I’d picked up the virus while surfing the ‘net. I shrugged. However the hell she—or he—had managed to invade my computer, I was going to delete the image. A few mouse clicks and keystrokes later, and the pornographic image had gone to her—or his—reward.

I found, however, that out of sight, in her—or his—case was definitely not out of mind. I found the mixture of feminine and masculine intriguing, although I’d never been attracted to transvestites or transsexuals before, and, I told myself, I wasn’t attracted to them now. It’s just that the combination of the perfectly coiffed hair, all waves and curls; the expertly applied makeup; the feminine attire; the figure’s firm, sleek breasts and long, shapely legs, coupled with her—or his—male genitals was striking; it was mesmerizing. I’d stared at the hybrid charms of the feminine-masculine model for quite a few minutes, I recall, before deleting it.

My eye had traveled down the slender, but curvaceous, figure, taking in the curves, the smooth skin, the feminine costume, and the incongruity of these features and the figure’s male sex organs. The mixture of male and female didn’t compute; therein lay the model’s captivating allure. Although the image was no longer on my monitor to study and enjoy, I found myself thinking of the beautiful face and the lovely body to the point that I couldn’t concentrate on the work at hand. My cock reminded me of my interest in the curious photograph; it wasn’t just erect, but rock hard, standing, at full length, upright before my belly. How the hell was I to write about soil sampling techniques with such visions of loveliness in my mind?

I felt confused. I’d never been attracted to cross dressers, but, now, judging by my stiff, standing cock, I was aroused, indeed, by the memory of the beautiful, androgynous figure who’d adorned my screen just a few moments ago. How the hell could I be attracted to a man dressed as a woman. She—or he—might be lovely to look at, but, damn it!, “she” was still a he! Was I going gay, somehow, now that I’d turned twenty five? Could a guy “go gay”? Could he be straight one day and a faggot the next?

No, I told myself, I wasn’t aroused by the transvestite’s picture; I was merely curious. My hard-on disagreed.

With a sigh, I gave up, shut down my computer, and decided to go out again. This time, my destination would be the local library. I’d just remembered why the transvestite’s face had seemed so familiar: she—or he—had been the very image of Tammy. As far as their hair, their eyes, their nose, their lips, their chins, their jawlines, and their bone structure were concerned, they could have been twins. Suddenly, the previous tenant, daughter of my present, but unmet landlords, about whom I’d thought precious little, seemed important to me; I had, for some reason, to know about her, about how she was killed, and why.

“Max!” I called, wanting to check on my feline friend before leaving for the rest of the afternoon. “Here, kitty, kitty, kitty!”

I waited.

There was no sign of him.

Slightly worried, I called his name again, but he didn’t respond.

I checked his bowls. He didn’t seem to have touched his food, and his water bowl was still full to the brim. Mildly concerned, I decided that Max must still be adjusting to his new environment. I’d keep an eye on him; if he didn’t come around in the next day or two, I’d take him to the vet.

I hastened to one of the mansion’s five bathrooms, thinking it best to pee before, dressing, I caught the bus across town to the library. If I didn’t take such a precaution, I’d no doubt feel the urge to relieve myself halfway to my destination, when there’d be no restroom available. I chose the bathroom in the master bedroom, not because it was the closest, but because it contained Tammy’s vanity and a lot of her clothing and other effects. This bedroom and its connected bathroom were the ones in which she’d probably spent most of her time when she’d slept, made love, showered, put on her face, dressed, or gotten ready for bed—and, unlike the other bathrooms, it was scented with her perfume. Why it was important to me that I feel close to her, I couldn’t say; it just was.

At the toilet, I lifted the seat, unzipped my shorts, extracted my cock, took aim, pointing my manhood in the direction of the center of the toilet bowl, and, froze, staring in disbelief: I was wearing Tammy’s cherry-red thong panties! I remembered seeing them on the clothes hamper in the closet, but I had no recollection of having picked them up, and certainly had no memory of having actually donned the underwear, yet, I was certainly wearing them.

The panties were too small, of course, and, had the waistband and the leg bands not been elastic, there would have been no way I could have stepped into them and pulled them over my hips. As it was, the thin, satin pouch that comprised the front of the panties was tented and partially askew in front. I was flaccid at the moment, but, a few minutes earlier, haunted by the image of the beautiful young transvestite on my computer screen, my cock had been stiff and swollen to the point, it had seemed, of bursting; no doubt, my erection had pushed the front of the panties aside.

Although I saw, with my own eyes, that I was, in fact, wearing Tammy’s thongs, I couldn’t believe it. How could I have picked up the panties and put them on without realizing or, at least, without remembering, that I had done so? It was impossible.

And, yet, obviously, it was not impossible.

Unable to hold back any longer, I surrendered to the need to relieve the pressure on my bladder, and a mighty stream of light-amber urine arced into the porcelain bowl. I pissed for over a minute. Then, shaking off the last few drops, I kicked off my sandals, removed my shorts, and started to take off Tammy’s panties. With them halfway down my thighs, I paused. My cock had swelled, stiffening. It felt incredibly sexy to be wearing a woman’s panties, especially thongs that could barely contain my cock and balls and did absolutely nothing to conceal my taut, compact buttocks. I felt sexy wearing them, just as, I imagined, Tammy must have felt with the thin satin fabric covering her pubes while exposing her bottom. I resisted the impulse to masturbate while wearing the panties, not wanting to stain them with my semen.

Don’t take them off; wear them, I thought.

I shivered. Although the thought was mine, the words seemed to have been spoken, in a sultry whisper, by a feminine voice. I pulled the panties back up my legs and over my hips, adjusting the front as best I could over my jutting prick. Then, with my ass exposed, I stepped back into my shorts and put my sandals back on. I was going to go to the library, as I’d planned, but I was going to go wearing Tammy’s cherry-red thongs. Although it was freaky that I’d put them on without realizing or remembering having done so, I was glad I had donned the underwear. They were comfortable. They were glamorous. They were beautiful.

They were also sexy as hell.

On my way out of the bathroom, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I stopped, puzzled. Staring at my reflection, I confirmed my impression: I looked smaller and slenderer, as if I’d somehow shrunk all over, and proportionately, as if my tall, gangly body had been reduced, scaled down, and, at the same time, made more graceful and more attractive. It was my imagination, of course. What else could have made me see myself as smaller and sexier than I really was? It was amazing what wearing a pair of women’s thong panties could do to a guy’s self-image, I thought. I spritzed some of Tammy’s perfume onto my face, smiling at the familiar fragrance.

Take a jacket. It could be chilly in the library, the feminine voice that seemed to be uttering my thoughts suggested, as I started for the doorway that connected bathroom to bedroom.

Sometimes, the air conditioner was a little much, I thought. I crossed the bathroom again,

opened the sliding-glass door to the closet, and grabbed a jacket. One of Tammy’s, it wouldn’t fit me, I thought, but when I shrugged into it, fearing I’d split a hundred stitches, the garment went on easily, as if it had been tailored for me. For some reason, she must have purchased this particular jacket in an extra-large size or maybe she’d borrowed it from a friend or someone had left it here after a visit and Tammy had set it aside to return later. Or maybe I really was becoming girl size, I thought, with a giggle.

Once again, catching sight of Tammy’s hundreds of shoes, I was astonished that anyone, wealthy or not, could have—-or would even want to own—so many shoes. They were cute, though, I had to admit. Some were, anyway. Others were beautiful. Still others were sexy. There were all kinds, in many different styles, from sneakers and sandals to sling-backs and stilettos. It was crazy, I thought, but I could see, almost, how a woman would maybe want so many shoes. Of course, none of them would fit me, even if I wanted, for the hell of it, just to satisfy my curiosity, to try on a pair or two.

You could buy a pair in your size, the voice that wasn’t my voice, but some chick’s, suggested.

I chuckled. Not on my salary, I couldn’t.

There was an envelope on the clothes hamper, where, earlier, Tammy’s thong panties had been displayed. It hadn’t been there before, had it? Maybe it had been under the thongs and I just hadn’t noticed it, my thoughts having been captivated by the panties at the time.

I picked up the large manilla envelope. Something inside it made it thick and bulky. I opened the flap, which had been sealed with adhesive cellophane tape.

My heart skipped a beat, and my knees went weak.

I gulped, staring at the envelope’s contents.

Inside were wads of cash, each secured by thick rubber bands. I rifled through several packets: every bill was a hundred! There had to be thousands of dollars in the envelope.

You could buy a pair in your size, the voice repeated. There’s a shop on Third Street called Transformation; they’ll have shoes in your size, and panties and lingerie, too, if you want them.

Transformation, right. I’d seen that shop before. I knew what it sold. It was perfect. Of course, I might not need to buy a whole wardrobe of various outfits, not if I was really shrinking down to a woman’s size, as I seemed to be. I might need some, though, for the time being. . . .

* * *

An hour later, I was off the bus and in the library, seated before a microfiche machine. (I had to have the research librarian show me how to use the damned thing; even then, it didn’t seem real.) The article concerning Tammy’s death, which appeared in the local newspaper, was accompanied by a photograph of her, which resembled those still on display in the mansion. She was a slender, gorgeous brunette, with a classically beautiful face and a figure that could have appeared alongside any Playboy model’s body—and put her rival to shame.

Who would kill a young woman like her? Her stalker, as it turns out, who’d stabbed her to death on her patio, after harassing her for over two years. She made the mistake that so many lovely ladies make: she was beautiful at the wrong time, in the wrong place—when he was present at a show she’d attended and he’d happened to see—and he’d become obsessed with—her. He’s now doing life without the possibility of parole in San Quentin, after he’d executed her for daring to be both beautiful and uninterested in him.

The article reported that her murder was actually her second death. She’d died previously, a few years back, as a teen, when she’d fallen off a mountain trail while dirt biking. She’d tumbled some sixty feet down the side of the mountain, before breaking her tumbling fall on an outcropping of granite and her neck, in the process. A helicopter had airlifted her from the slope, evacuating her to the emergency room of the nearest hospital where, soon after surgery, she’d flat-lined.

A near-death experience followed, wherein she saw a tunnel, a light, and beings who, she believed, were angels, before hearing a voice she “knew” was God’s, asking her whether she wanted to stay or return. Reluctantly, she opted to come back, not wanting her parents to grieve for her, and she’d awakened in intensive care, doctors and nurses working frantically to revive her. When she became the victim of a crazed stalker, she told her parents that, if he killed her, she’d come back again, from the dead, if she could. I felt weird wearing her thong panties.

* * *

I didn’t really think I was getting smaller, although it sure seemed like it, sometimes, when, wearing Tammy’s panties, stockings, or some other item of clothing around the house, I checked out my reflection. I not only looked shorter, but my arms and legs were slenderer, and my butt seemed fuller. Hell, it even looked as though I’d sprouted some boobies of my own. Of course, the reflection in the mirror was likely more the result of wishful thinking than of anything else.

If I wanted to wear silks and satins—and high heels—and I never had before, but I did now, for some reason—I had no alternative but to buy them in my own size. Of course, I couldn’t have afforded anything had it not been for the manilla envelope stuffed with cash I’d found on the clothes hamper in one of Tammy’s closets. With the thousands it contained, I could buy anything I wanted, so, after the library, I took the bus again, to Third Street, and bought myself the first items in my new women’s wardrobe.

That’s when the latest in the series of bizarre incidents occurred. I could hardly believe it then; I’m not sure I believe it now, but this is what happened, whether it actually happened or not.

I found a pair of heels just like one of Tammy’s pairs of stilettos, but in my size. Then, of course, I had to have an outfit to go with it, so I picked out several skirts and blouses, trying them on in the dressing room. I thought I looked good in a couple of them, but I wasn’t sure. I’ wasn’t a woman, and I’d never cross dressed—at least, not before I’d moved into Tammy’s parents’ house. I I was trying to decide whether I should buy the clothes, and a woman’s voice said to me, inside my head, as if it’s my own words, but in a feminine utterance—in Tammy’s voice, I think—”You look gorgeous in all of hem. Buy them all.” So that’s what I did.

“Come back,” the clerk told me, as I was leaving.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “I will.”

She smiled at me, and I smiled back.

I wanted to wear one of my new outfits home, but I dared not. Inside, when I dressed, I might feel feminine, but I could never pass as a woman. I’d have to wait until I got home to model my new


* * *

Max was still missing in action when I got home with my armload of merchandise. He was in hiding, I supposed. The feminine voice in my head—Tammy, I am almost sure—spoke my thoughts to me: “He’ll come around; give him time.”

“Tammy,” I asked, “is that you?”

No answer.

“Are you present?” I persisted. “Have you come back?”

I thought I’d seen her for a moment, transparent and wavering, near the bedroom doorway, but she flickered again and vanished—if she’d ever been there at all.

Maybe I just imagined seeing her.

This possibility frightened me, and I wasn’t sure which scared me worse—or which should have scared me worse—hallucinating or seeing an actual ghost.

I tried once more, my voice faltering. “Tammy?”

Silence, except for the air conditioner.

Taking my new clothes to the closet, I hung the blouses and skirts and slacks and positioned my new shoes alongside Tammy’s. Mine looked huge, compared to hers. I shook my head. The idea that I was shrinking was just an illusion, obviously, born of wishful thinking. As much as I’d like to be petite, I wasn’t, and I never would be. At least I could look good in women’s clothes, I consoled myself, even if they were, in comparison to Tammy’s outfits, of gargantuan size.

I was tired. Three bus trips across town in one day is much more taxing than one might suspect, and I hadn’t learned to shop ’til I dropped. I was a man, after all. Enjoying the feel of satin panties and leather mini-skirts and silk blouses and buying a few items of apparel in a cross dresser’s boutique didn’t might make me a transvestite, but it hadn’t—and couldn’t—make me a true woman. I’d always be inferior in that regard.

I thought about taking a long, hot shower—the soap and the steam and the shampoo and the conditioner would do wonders for my mood as well as for my skin and my hair—but I was just too exhausted, and I chose sleep over cleanliness. Fortunately, Tammy’s huge canopy bed was a guaranteed ticket to slumber land and sweet dreams. I stumbled toward the curtain-enclosed resting place, and stopped, shocked at the sight of the items displayed upon the bedspread: a tube of lubricant, a strap-on dildo—it was at least eight inches long and the most realistic-looking dong I’d ever seen—and a picture of Tammy’s latest boyfriend, Brad Burke, the one she’d been dating when she was murdered.

Had I laid out these things before I’d gone out this afternoon?


Then who had?

There were only two possibilities that I could think of. As far as I knew, besides me, only Donna Adams, the real estate agent, or Tammy’s parents, my landlords, had keys that would unlock the mansion’s doors. Since I hadn’t placed the articles on the bed, one of them had to have done it.

Or Tammy, I thought.

Then, I laughed. Sure, a ghost did it, I told myself, and chuckled.

Could someone else have a key? Maybe Tammy had given one to Brad?

But, if she had, why would he—or, for that matter, why would Donna or Tammy’s parents—want to sneak into the house in my absence and set out a tube of lube, a strap-on dildo, and a photograph of Tammy’s beau? They wouldn’t.

It did;’t make sense, but there they were—lube, dildo, and photograph—ready and waiting, if I were willing to use them.

What was I supposed to do, stick the eight-inch dildo up my ass, lust after Brad, and pretend I was Tammy, being fucked in the butt by her boyfriend?

No, thanks, I thought; I’ll pass.

I looked at the picture of Brad. He was handsome, I had to admit. He had dark hair, blue eyes, high cheekbones, a narrow nose, a strong jaw, sensual lips, and an athlete’s conditioned physique. I could see what Tammy had seen in him, I thought.

Then, I thought something else, in the feminine voice I had associated with Tammy: I miss him!

For a moment, Brad was present with me, in the huge bed, under the pink canopies, inside the closed pink curtains, naked, his cock rigid and, from the looks of it, every bit of eight thick, swollen inches. I was also naked, my smaller prick hard against his belly as he lay down, atop me, his muscular abdomen against my own, his groin in the cradle of my hips, his thighs outside, and against, my own upper legs. He wriggled, positioning himself, and I felt the tip of his stiff penis push against my anus. My own prick throbbed, stiffening still more, and my balls rose inside my tightening scrotum. My anus fluttered, and I–

“No!” I cried, horrified.

What the hell was I thinking? What was I imagining? What was wrong with me?

I was no faggot, I told myself. I’d never thought of being with another man the way a woman is with a man. I had no interest whatsoever in members of my own sex, even those as handsome and virile as Brad looked in Tammy’s photograph of him.

I felt disgusted.

And ashamed.

And aroused.

No! I wasn’t aroused, I told myself. There was no way I could be aroused by thoughts like those that had passed through my head just now, alien thoughts that seemed to me to have come from someone else’s mind—Tammy’s mind?—not my own.

“Tammy?” I shouted. “Are you here? Answer me!”

As before when I’d asked this question, there was no answer.

I didn’t expect that there would be.

I knew only one thing, whether ghosts existed or not, whether death was the end or not, whether someone could return from beyond or not, Tammy could forget about me using her dildo on myself; my sympathies for her went only so far. Sweeping the items on the blankets aside, I climbed into bed, for a much-needed nap. In a few minutes, I was asleep in Tammy’s cherry-red thongs, wearing the transparent teddy I’d bought at Transformation as my nightgown.

* * *

I slept in until after 11:00 am. I must have been ever more tired than I’d thought. It took me a minute to collect myself and to make sense of the garbled garbage that passed itself off as consciousness. But I soon realized I was naked. What had happened to the teddy I’d worn to bed? I found it tossed onto the floor. The blankets were tossed back, and the sheets were rumpled. The eight-inch dildo, smeared with lubricant,lay beside me, and my asshole, wet with the lubricant, seemed to have been reamed. Brad’s photograph lay face down on my chest, between what—there was no denying the truth of the matter—were clearly budding boobs. Whether it was the high soy diet I’d begun a few months ago or the black cohosh, fenugreek, fennel, dong quai, blessed thistle, dandelion, kelp, saw palmetto, red clover, and wild yam that the clerk at Transformation had recommended to enhance my bosom naturally, I’d definitely gained an inch in my bust line. In addition, it seemed, as impossible as it may sound, that I really had, in fact, become smaller; my arms and legs were slenderer, my waits narrower, and my hands and feet more delicate. The brittle white flakes on my tummy, though, which I recognized at once as dried semen, left little doubt that I was still a fully functional male—or, at least, that I still had fully functioning male parts. I felt sexually satisfied—satiated, even—and Brad’s picture suggested I’d inserted the dildo into my own anus and fucked myself with it, all the time fantasizing about being butt-fucked by Tammy’s boyfriend—or maybe by Tammy herself, while she was wearing the strap-on.

No, that was impossible, I told myself. Tammy didn’t exist.

She was dead.

If I can, I’ll come back, she’d promised.

But there was no way.

Maybe she did come back, somehow—as a ghost.

No, there were no such things as ghosts.

Then how could I have seen her?


I was going crazy, then?

Images of the night before, which, until now, I’d apparently repressed, flared in my consciousness, memories of Brad straddling me, of his thick, long, hard cock thrusting into me, impaling my buttocks and probing deep within my rectum. He’d pounded me hard and fast, and I’d grunted and groaned, feeling the pleasure of surrender, of violation, of being nothing but an object, an orifice, designed to satisfy his need and to give him pleasure, with no thought of me.

Now, as I remembered the dream or fantasy or hallucination, whatever it was, from the night before, my cock was rock hard, thick, and long. My balls were high inside my taut, tightly gathered scrotum. My anus seemed to beat, as if it had a pulse.

Of course, Brad hadn’t been with me; I’d fucked myself with the dildo while fantasizing about him, as Tammy might have done, but the thought that I’d done such a thing, while thinking of having sex with another guy was revolting. I felt humiliated and ashamed—and frightened. I wasn’t gay, so why would I be turned on by the thought of making love to another member of my own sex? But my asshole was wet with the lubricant on the dildo, and my cock was rigid, and my thoughts had been filled with images of Brad, naked and virile, with his erect penis up my stuffed, crammed ass.

So, was I aroused or not?

Was I male or female?

Was I Rod or Tammy?

I was confused. On all these issues, I was confused.

* * *

My mind whirling with such emotions and confusion—doubtful as to my sexuality and, indeed, my very identity, and feeling at once excitement, shame, disgust, fear, and passion—I hastened, still naked, with my semen dried upon my tummy, from the spacious canopy bed and into the bathroom, wherein I showered beneath hot needles of steaming water, in attempt, perhaps, not only to cleanse my flesh but also to wash away the doubts and fears that plagued me—I had masturbated while fantasizing that I was a woman being sodomized by her boyfriend—and I spent considerable time cleansing—or attempting to cleanse—myself.

I had made up my mind to renounce feminine attire forever; after all, I had been born a male and had lived as such for over two decades without remorse. There was no reason that I should renounce masculinity at this late date. True, the opposite sex’s clothing felt much better, even if it was more restrictive, tighter, and, in some instances, even binding, but it was set aside for women to wear. I would return to the nude state that I’d adopted, in the privacy of my own rooms, years ago. Being naked wasn’t quite as stimulating, perhaps, as wearing satin panties and silk dresses, but it was, nevertheless, decidedly more comfortable than remaining attired in men’s clothing—and it allowed me to retain my identity, sexually and otherwise, as a man.

After my shower, I applied deodorant and nothing else, stepping from the bathroom reassured of my masculinity and glad to be, once again, myself.

Back at my computer desk, I noticed that, saved as my desktop background image, was another lewd, full-color photograph of a sexy transvestite, looking girlish and gorgeous in a pink taffeta tutu, the very picture of feminine grace and beauty, despite his long, flaccid cock, which peeked out below the hemline. I shook my head as I right-clicked my mouse; the cursor poised above the “Properties” tab of the drop-down menu that had opened upon my command. I had every intention of deleting the image, but, at the last moment, having hesitated, I lost the will-—and the desire—to do so: the cross dresser was simply too lovely to dismiss in so cavalier a manner. I would be only to happy, I decided, to let her—or him—grace my desktop.

I had a lot of work to do on my latest report concerning desert hydrology, and, I told myself, I had better get to it. However, as I opened my file, the monitor turned dark for a moment, and I caught sight of myself in the screen, as if I were looking into a dark mirror.

My eyes widened, and my mouth gaped.

Reflected in the dark monitor was my image, and it—that is, I—was wearing clothing I’d bought at Transformation—women’s clothing! Actually, it was a white bustier! I remembered the description that had been displayed next to it on the shelf: “cire-trimmed honeycomb metal clasp front with ring criss-cross adjustable back and cire g-string. Size Large 9/10.” It had set me back $50, but it had been worth every cent—or so I’d thought at the time I’d bought it, when cross dressing had appealed to me and I’d even begun to imagine that, developing breasts and shrinking to a smaller, feminine size, I was actually transforming into a woman. The top was formfitting, sleeveless, and strapless, with boning that shaped my abdomen and supports that uplifted my breasts—or would have, had I’d had any to lift. I also wore dark fishnet stockings, attached to the garter that was itself attached to the bottom of the bustier, and black heels, the expanse of my thighs and the bottoms of my buttocks on display.

I had no memory whatsoever of having donned the corset-like garment—a memory lapse severe enough to be frightening—and I actually shook as I realized I’d put the lingerie on without realizing it, as if I were under the direction and control of a mesmerizing influence—or person—of some kind.

Tammy? I wondered. Was she here, as a spirit or a ghost? Was she controlling both my body and my mind? Maybe, when I’d masturbated last night, fantasizing that the strap-on dildo I’d used on myself was actually Brad’s cock ramming itself back and forth inside my ass, Tammy had been in charge; maybe she’d even take possession of me. Maybe, at the time, she was me, and it was she who had made love to Brad, using my body, causing me to ejaculate my seed upon my belly.

The idea was fantastic.

It was impossible!

I trembled, as I wondered whether it might also somehow be true.

Work was forgotten. I had something more pressing to do at the moment.

Connecting with the Internet, I searched for “transvestite.”

I intended to learn all I could about the art of cross dressing, including its psychological


I learned quite a bit, fairly quickly—the Internet has a wide, but not very deep, reservoir of information. One thing I learned is that, from the female’s perspective, male cross dressing isn’t complimentary; it’s actually kind of insulting, at least when it is forced upon a guy as a form of punishment or discipline, the implication being that forcing a man to dress as a woman is humiliating because the act demotes the male’s status. If dressing as a woman were considered an elevating act, the guy would feel empowered and privileged, not embarrassed and demoted. To me, this was a new and unexpected point of view; I had regarded the female sex as superior to the male sex, although I’d learned to be content, more or less, to be a male, playing the cards that God, nature, fate, evolution, or what-have-you had dealt to me. However, I could see, now, why women would feel offended if men see forced feminization as demeaning to them rather than as elevating their status. Such an attitude, on men’s part, wasn’t merely sexist; it was also downright misogynistic. I felt ashamed, all right—of my own sex and its patriarchal and chauvinistic attitudes toward women.

I also discovered that, although sex may be a given, assigned to us by God, nature, fate, evolution, or what-have-you, gender is largely, if not completely, a social construct, a nexus of culturally conditioned and socially sanctioned ideas that may seem innate and fixed but, in reality, is far from it. The supposed nature of boys and girls and of men and women is not predetermined by testicles and ovaries and by testosterone and estrogen, but by the values, attitudes, prejudices, beliefs, emotions, and ideas that a particular culture and society develop and agree to embrace concerning male and female identities and behaviors. Therefore, gender is an invention, not a fact;

it is made up, not assigned; it is a conspiracy, of sorts, not an essential element of one’s identity.

In reality, we are individuals, free to accept whatever “masculine” or “feminine” attributes we choose to adopt and to reject any that we do not wish to embrace. I could be a man and wear satin panties, silk blouses, and leather mini-skirts if I wanted; I could be masculine in makeup and carefully styled hair if I chose to be; I wouldn’t be any less a man if I carried a purse and wore jewelry or even had sex with another guy. In fact, many psychologists believe that everyone is psychologically androgynous, having traits that society has designated as either masculine or feminine. Society’s designation of traits as masculine or feminine is fallacious, an either-or fallacy, because everyone, male and female alike, is both masculine and feminine at the same time, women having a masculine component to their personalities, the animus, and men a feminine aspect to their psychological makeup, the anima. Psychologically, we are all bisexual.

I felt as if, in perusing these topics, I’d had a revelation. The masculine-feminine categories of sexual identity I’d lived by all my life, thinking them as predetermined and fixed as the sun, the moon, and the stars, were, I realized now, simply social constructs, fictions that were approved and sanctioned by society and transmitted, from generation to generation, but fictions, nonetheless, and, as such, they were myths that I need not abide by; I had the freedom to be myself, even if my identity wasn’t what it was “supposed” to be, even if I was and wanted to be both masculine and feminine at the same time, acting and thinking and feeling as both sexes, rather than repressing half of my human potential. Why should I be less, I thought, when I could be more? It was wrong, I thought, to be half the man—and woman—I could-—and should—be. I felt liberated. I felt free. I was exhilarated.

I rose from my chair, grinning. I raised my hands high over my head, stretching my back and legs. It seemed that my breasts had grown another inch; the nipples were sore, feeling as if they had gathered themselves into hard points, and I felt a buoyancy in my chest that had never been there before. The bustier seemed fuller in front than it had even a few minutes ago, and my arms, waist, and legs were slenderer, my hips wider, and my fanny fuller. I felt petite and sleek, soft and curvaceous, sexy and feminine. In the windows behind my computer desk, the curtains of which were parted, I saw, in the glass panes, the reflection of an altogether beautiful young brunette, and I knew, from the photographs I’d seen around the house and the one that had appeared in the newspaper article concerning her murder, that the figure reflected in the window was Tammy herself, in the flesh! She was here, now, and she was naked.

She was ravishing, with long, wavy black hair; wide fawn’s eyes with thick, dark lashes; a thin, petite nose; full, sensuous lips; high cheekbones; a delicate, pointed chin; high, full, round breasts; a concave tummy; flaring hips; shaved pubic mound, in which pouted the dimple of her sex; and long shapely legs. The sight of her, naked and beautiful, brought me instantly erect, as did the fact that the reflection overlay my own, so that we seemed, in the windowpanes, to merge, my masculinity uniting with her femininity and her femininity mixing with my masculinity so that we became an androgynous hybrid, a combination of the best of both genders.

However, as I stared, longingly, at this image of perfection, Tammy slowly began to fade, seeming to evaporate before my eyes, as if the naked female figure that had been so clearly and obviously flesh just a moment before now became transparent, then indistinct, and finally vanished altogether, as if she had been nothing more than a ghost—or an hallucination. Perhaps I had thought about her, longed for her, desired her for so long now that I’d imagined her to be real; my desire for her presence had rendered her real—in my imagination, at least. Were she truly real, she would not have faded away.

Disappointed more than I could say, I returned to work, losing myself in writing about the dull world of desert hydrology. Nine and a half hours of studying pictures of desert cacti, wildflowers, sage, tumbleweeds, and sand and of writing about infiltration, percolation, evaporation, and transpiration; the spatial and temporal variability of precipitation; runoffs, channels, and basins; fluvial processes, sediment transport and yields, channel morphology, and groundwater trapping—well, you get the idea, I’m sure: all thoughts of transvestism, gender construction, psychological androgyny, animas and animi, and even Tammy herself were long gone from my thoughts. There was a benefit, though, to all this effort: I’d completed my work on the project ahead of schedule (despite my procrastinations) and, as a result, I had a week off before my next technical writing assignment!

I went to Tammy’s bathroom vanity, to reward myself for finishing my work on the desert hydrology project ahead of schedule, despite my initial procrastinations, and, on the way, I caught a glimpse of myself in the full-length mirror. My reflection took my breath away: it was beautiful, which meant—and I hope I sound truthful, rather than arrogant—that I was beautiful. After all, it was my body that cast the reflection.

Or was it?

I was shorter and slimmer. My bone structure was smaller and more graceful. I was curvier and softer. I was sleeker and lovelier. My hands and feet were delicate/ I had—don’t ask me how—developed breasts. My hips had a bit of flare to them, and my buttocks were fuller. My legs were as shapely as any model’s. In a word, I was more feminine than I was masculine. I told myself that such a transformation wasn’t possible, but the mirror didn’t lie.

I not only looked like Tammy; it was as if I were she, as if I’d become she.

I shook my head, and the beautiful young woman in the mirror did likewise. I smiled, and she smiled. I winked at her; she winked back at me.

I sat at the vanity, opened tubes and tins and bottles, used brushes and pencils and powders and colors and polishes, applying eyeshadow primer, eyeshadow, eyeliner, mascara, eyebrow pencil, concealer, foundation, face powder, blush, bronzer, lip liner, lipstick, and lip gloss—and I did it all intuitively, with a skill that was as flawless and as practiced as if I’d put on makeup a thousand times, both surprising and delighting myself. Then, I dressed, donning rich, wine-colored clothes: a burgundy bra-and-panties set, a Bordeaux blouse—silk, of course—a pleated Chianti mini-skirt, and oxford boots. Again, the selection of the clothing and the total look that it created came to me as naturally as breathing, and I surprised myself by how effortlessly and well I walked in the boots’ four-inch heels, considering that I’d never worn heels more than maybe an inch high before in my life. I was becoming a woman in more ways than one, I thought, and just as easily. Only yesterday, all these tasks would have been impossible; today, I accomplished them without effort and with grace and aplomb.

I thought about taking a cab to a nightclub, just to see whether I could pass as a woman—I was all but certain that I could. I looked like a million dollars in Tammy’s clothes—the ones I’d bought at Transformation just yesterday were already too big for me—and, thanks to the money in the manilla envelope, I had plenty of cash for drinks and the cover charge—which, as a lady, I wouldn’t have to pay, anyway—but I decided to get some rest instead. Sleep may not be glamorous, compared to clubbing, but it’s a necessary evil, and I felt exhausted. Maybe it was the shopping, the sex I’d had with myself last night, working at a new job, the long work session I’d put in today, the growing pains associated with my body’s feminization of itself, or the stress of having to adjust to new surroundings, even if they were as luxurious as Tammy’s parents’ mansion; maybe it was all of these things. Whatever the cause, I felt more than tired, and I decided to undress and turn in early.

I hated to remove the makeup and the clothes I’d just spent an hour putting on, but I did; within a minute or two of climbing, naked, into bed, I was sound asleep, and I slept all night, a deep and dreamless sleep such as I hadn’t slept in weeks.

* * *

In the morning, someone had left me a gift.

Tammy’s photograph was next to me, in bed.

There was a card, too: “Help me to be here for both of us,” it read. It was signed, “Love, Tammy.”

A shiver ran along my spine, and the trembling had nothing to do with the fact that I was naked.

It had to do with the fact that Tammy was dead.

She was dead and buried, yet, if I were to believe this card, she had left me a note: “Help me to be here for both of us. Love, Tammy.”

Normally, the card and the photograph’s being next to me in bed as I awakened would have creeped me out way more than it did now, but, considering the odd—no, the impossible—incidents that had transpired since my having moved into this place—the discovery of Tammy’s thongs where they hadn’t been before; a mysterious manilla envelope stuffed with cash; a woman’s voice speaking my own thoughts; objects appearing in my bed of their own accord; my having sex with myself without knowing I’d done so; my ability to dress, apply makeup and walk in high heels perfectly, without any previous practice; my actually growing breasts and shrinking to a petite size; and now the appearance of Tammy’s photograph and card in bed next to me—so many things had happened that defied rational explanation that I was much less disturbed than I would otherwise have been, and I even called out to Tammy or her ghost or whatever she was, asking, “What is it that you want me to do?”

In my mind, Tammy spoke to me, “Want me,” she pleaded, “more than you want yourself.” It was her voice, but the thoughts were my own.

As before, Tammy appeared, taking on corporeal form. She was naked, and she looked gorgeous. Again, her voice spoke the words of my thoughts: “Want me more than you want yourself.”

“I do want you,” I assured her.

“More than yourself.”

“I do.”

Tammy smiled at me, reached for me. Her fingers, long, slender, with polished, pink nails were but inches from my own when she began to fade.

“Want me,” she pleaded, flickering, “want me . . . .”

She was gone. Only the scent of her perfume remained.

* * *

By morning, either I’d gone crazy or I’d undergone even more of a transformation from a man into a woman. My boobs had grown—overnight. They’d become as large as those of a high school girl’s breasts. My hips and buttocks had become curvier, too, and I’d become more petite than ever, with a woman’s arms, legs, and waist. My tummy had become concave, and my hair had grown long and wavy. I couldn’t believe the change; the only remaining signs of my vanishing manhood were my cock and balls. They hadn’t shrunken; if anything, they might even have been a bit bigger than they used to be. Except for my male genitals, though, I could have been a dead ringer for Tammy!

But I didn’t want to lose my male identity—at least, not entirely, not yet—and I made a point to do the things I’d normally do on a day off, read, surf the ‘net, watch TV, eat, but I couldn’t stop admiring my new body. My tits were awesome. My butt was delightful. My feminine curves were beautiful. I cupped my breasts, slid the palms of my girly hands down the sides of my hips, squeezed my ass cheeks, caressed my thighs, hugged myself, kissed the lips reflected in the full-length mirror in the master bathroom, spent an hour trying on different outfits. All of Tammy’s clothes, even her shoes, now fit me, so I knew my transformation couldn’t be imaginary; it had to be real.

I ran into Max on my way to the den, and he screeched at me, before darting under a couch. I giggled, thinking he probably didn’t recognize me, but I was glad to see he was all right. He must be sneaking food and water. It saddened me to see his anxiety, though.

Give him time, Tammy’s voice spoke my thoughts.

“I will,” I replied aloud, certain she could hear me, even if I couldn’t see her.

I wished she’d return. I wished she could be more than a ghost. I’d like to spend my life with her.

Want me, her voice seemed to speak to me, more than you want yourself.

“I do,” I said.

Not yet, she seemed to answer, but you may soon.

In the den, I found a videocassette tape in the VCR, left there, I suspected, by Tammy, for me to

find. Well, I thought, if she wanted me to watch something, I was game.

I inserted the tape fully into the machine and pressed the Start button. Arming myself with the remote control, I sprawled on the sectional sofa—immediately, my eyes widened and my mouth gaped. The tape hadn’t been fully rewound, so it started in medias res, in the middle of the action—and what action it was!

Tammy climbed into her canopy bed, positioning herself upon her elbows and knees, smiling at the camera over her shoulder as Brad came into the picture, joining her. He knelt behind her, between her parted legs. The view of her ass was magnificent. The curves of her rump, coming together as they bowed inward, joining at the base of her spine, formed the top of a perfect Valentine’s heart, the imaginary point of which would end somewhere inside her, perhaps in the depths of her bowels. The cheeks, even as I viewed them, from above, were full, but without an ounce of extra fat, firm and tight, yet sleek and cushiony.

From my vantage point, I couldn’t see the wrinkled dimple of her derriere’s secret portal, but I knew her anus awaited within the deep cleavage of her arched buttocks, and I knew that, at any moment, Brad would penetrate the tight ring of muscle and insert his manhood as deeply as possible into her rectum, until his balls were all that remained outside her smooth, creamy ass.

Brad applied anal lube from the tube Tammy kept in the drawer of the bedside table, preparing both his prick and Tammy’s asshole for the fun to come. Then, the mattress dipped and swayed as, on his knees, Brad “walked” the few inches forward that separated him from Tammy, and holding his cock in his fist, he guided the stiff, swollen member between the inward-curving cheeks of her ivory-smooth, satin-soft buttocks. The camera angle changed, offering me a different view of the action, and I wondered whether Tammy and Brad had hired a cameraman to film their antics. He jabbed at her anus, but her stout sphincter resisted his attempted trespass, and Brad’s prick slid forward and up, alongside the cleavage between her ass cheeks. My own cock, as I watched the TV screen, was rigid, and my balls ached.

However, I found, as I continued to watch the video, I wasn’t identifying with Brad, but with Tammy. As he shoved his cock through her anus, it was as if he were invading my own asshole. As he pressed his hips forward, it was as if he were sending his massive manhood not into Tammy’s silken ass, but deep into my own rectum. My cock stiffened further as my balls rose still higher inside my tightening scrotum.

Brad drew his hips back, and, holding his rigid column of flesh firmly in hand, pressed it forward, against my—Tammy’s—tiny, puckered anus, and her—my—sphincter succumbed to his force, opening to admit the conquering cock that slid forward, through the tight ring of muscle and deep into the interior of my (and Tammy’s) penetrated ass. Brad continued to force his manhood through the little orifice until its full, swollen length filled Tammy’s (my) ass and he was buried inside our rectum to his very balls, the cheeks of our ass flat beneath his grinding pubes.

Impaled, I uttered a tiny cry, but Tammy pressed her penetrated ass back, firmly, against his groin, signaling my willingness to be so pierced and stuffed. Our acceptance of our fate—my surrender of the sovereignty of my person to Brad–was a welcome, and fiercely erotic, acknowledgment. He jabbed his hips back and forth in quick, short thrusts to acknowledge Tammy’s acknowledgment of our surrender. We’d given him rightful claim to the treasury of our bowels, and he meant to mine the mother lode for all it was worth.

He saw our face. Tammy had rested it upon the back of a hand, and our eyes were closed, my brow knitted, and my upper teeth bit lightly at Tammy’s folded lower lip. We remained motionless now, awaiting our fate. A sense of power seemed to fill Brad, as he felt our anus, round, about his member. He had the power to pound me beneath him, to rock my frame, and to fill and refill Tammy’s ass with his thick, hard penis. Tammy opened our eyes. Her lips parted. What was she about to say? I wondered. Was she going to confess her love to Brad? Ask him to be gentle with us? Ask him if he loved us? “While you’re fucking me,” Tammy and I declared, our voice husky, “I am your whore.”

Our words inflamed him. His hips jerked back, of their own accord, by pure reflex, and he drove his enormous cock forward in a single motion, fast and fluid, filling our ass with its thick, long length, and making me gasp a second time, as Tammy’s eyes closed tightly and a tear, whether of pain or bliss I could not say, trickled down our rosy, silken cheek.

Our words reverberated in my mind: “I am your whore.”

Brad’s hips withdrew, and he rocketed his prick back, hard and fast, into our rectum, my ass cheeks flattening before his advance.

It felt wonderful to feel the length of his prick slide through our wide-stretched anus. Tammy’s asshole rode his cock. The rim of our orifice pulled outward, clinging to his retreating member, only to plunge inward again as he shoved his organ back through, deep into our bowels. He could see the circumference of my asshole as it was pushed and pulled along with his thrusting cock. The sight was extremely arousing. Fucking someone in the ass always is exciting in the extreme, I thought, associated as it is with feelings of dominance and submission, conquest and surrender, pride and humiliation, on the part of the ravisher and the ravished, respectively.

Brad increased the rhythm of his assault, driving his prick faster and harder, if not deeper, into Tammy’s and my bottom, feeling the sleek, satiny flesh of our buttocks’ inward curving cheeks slide past on either side of his lunging member and the tight “O” of our anus clinging to his plunging prick. The lubricant made slurping sounds that would have been embarrassing, perhaps, were we not caught up in the passion of our forbidden act. As it was, if anything, the wet, smacking sounds were erotic. Tammy’s moans and my gasps, like the contorted features of our lovely face and our impaled asshole, were also thrilling, physically, sexually, and emotionally.

Our little frame rocked back and forth before him, in time with Brad’s retreats and advances. Each time he sent his erection back into our depths, we were driven forward, and each time he withdrew his prick through our rounded anus, our body recoiled, our breasts bouncing and my penis, hard like Brad’s, but with neither pussy nor ass to impale, useless except as an ornament, swung to and fro between our thighs, a metronome keeping time to the movements of Brad’s assault upon our ass.

Tammy moaned again, and a tear coursed down my cheek. Was she in distress? Did the tear signal discomfort or, perhaps, even pain? We were petite, and our ass was correspondingly small. Brad’s cock was not merely large; it was huge. It was possible that its presence within the tight circle of our anus did cause Tammy some measure of suffering. Almost certainly, it would cause me more than a little anxiety, for I was wondering, as Tammy must have been, whether we could continue to accommodate such an enormous prick as Brad fucked us with, even more brutally and savagely, all but raping us. Brad seemed to feel no sympathy for us, though, but continued to use

us for his own pleasure and treating us as a harlot.

Brad retreated again, until half the length of his cock was visible between our buttocks, and drove the massive member home again. As soon as his balls kissed our ass cheeks, he withdrew again, the same distance, and plunged into our rectum again. He did not retreat the full length of his cock, only half this distance, before ramming us anew. Back and forth, in this manner, he drove his penis, brutally fucking us with quick, hard, short strokes that brought from the depths of our soul a wordless protest of moans and grunts and gasps. Our countenance wore a look of panic, but we bit our lip, tears wetting our face.

My cock was a blur as it swung between my legs, and both my balls and my breasts bounced and flounced. My eyes were closed tightly, my brow was furrowed deeply, and I gritted my teeth fiercely. My little hand was closed in a fist around the rumpled sheet. A sheen of sweat made my face glow.

I asked for no quarter, and Brad gave me none. I’d wanted to be ravished, and he ravished me, assaulting my ass mercilessly and relentlessly. His cock slid again and again through my impaled anus, pumping my backside. His mighty cock vanished and reappeared within the clinging circle of my anus. He studied the silken globes of my ass, between which his thick, hard prick thrust and retreated. These sights, and the occasional sighs, gasps, moans, and groans that Tammy and I, penetrated by his cock, made, seemed to give him the strength and the stamina to continue.

And continue, he did. . . .

Not knowing whether I was Tammy or Rod, and not caring one way or another, and without having so much as touched my own cock or balls, I felt the telltale onset of orgasm, a rushing together of overwhelming pleasurable sensations in my groin, and the lurching, straining shaft of my cock became a geyser, thick, warm sprays of semen erupting all over my tummy and breasts. I groaned, as did Tammy, her voice one with mine in my mind, and we, she and I both, together, surrendered to our aching nipples, our throbbing balls, and our convulsing cock, awash in the molten fountain of our seed.

I hadn’t cum so much since I’d been a teenager—and, this time, I’d ejaculated, quite copiously, without having touched myself at all, simply from the excitement that imagining myself as Tammy had created within me. At first, I’d viewed her as distinct from myself, and then I’d put myself in her place, vicariously, adopting her point of view as she had sex with Brad, thinking of her as “her” and “she.” Quickly, however, as I continued to watch, it seemed that we two—Tammy and I—had become as one, and I started to think of us as “us” and “our” and “we.” Finally, toward the end of the videotape, I had replaced Tammy altogether, so that what she did I did, and what she felt, I felt, and what was done to her, was done to me, and the only pronouns that occurred to me, in reference to her, were “I,” “me,” “my,” and “mine”: I had become Tammy. It was this total identification with her, this transformation into her, this becoming of her, that had caused me to experience the most intense, prolonged orgasm I’d ever known and to ejaculate as if I were a stallion or a bull.

Now, drenched in my own seed, I left the den and took to the shower, to wash the semen from my nude body, from my breasts and tummy, groin and thighs. The water, steaming hot, fell like needles, and I enjoyed the hot pricks of pressurized water spraying from the shower head’s multiple openings, as I lathered and bathed.

Another’s hands, delicate and smooth, cupped my breasts, washing them, and bathed my tummy and ribs and buttocks, before scrubbing my thighs and back. I was lathered, white, foamy clouds of soap marooned here and there, upon a breast or a buttock or a thigh, as she ministered to my male genitals, soaping them and squeezing them in the warm, liquid embrace of her wet, soapy fingers, massaging my scrotum and my testicles and my perineum and my anus as she stroked and shook and jiggled and pumped my stiff, long penis, masturbating me. Her thumb thrust between my ass cheeks, penetrating my anus, as she continued to handle my cock and balls with her other hand, her touch soft and warm and wonderful. “Want me,” she said—and this time, I actually heard, rather than imagined—her sweet, soft voice—”want me, want me,” she pleaded.

“I do!” I cried, moments away from orgasm.

“Not yet, you don’t,” she whispered, as I came, spewing semen as if for the first time, thick and hard, with volume and force, “but you will.”

I came again—and again—overwhelmed by a series of orgasms, one cresting as its predecessor fell, on and on, as if ecstasy had become a sea eternally rolling against the shore. I gasped, spurting more of myself into the steamy mist, the hot needles of the shower falling upon me like pricks of passion and joy. My body, I saw, was more female than male, with full, firm, high, round breasts, as soft and silken as those of a young woman whose sexuality was just beginning to blossom. My hips had assumed a flare; my buttocks were sleek, soft globes; my legs were as shapely as if their thighs and calves had been turned upon a lathe. Only my cock and balls were remnants of my vanished masculinity.

* * *

I slept, nude, and dreamed that I was Tammy, completely and totally Tammy. Rod—the man I once was—was gone; he no longer existed. I was a woman. And I was with Brad. He sat upon the bed, and I parted his legs, opening his knees, and knelt on the carpet, between his wide-spread thighs. I spread my delicate hands, sliding my fanned fingers back and forth upon his upper legs, caressing and fondling his inner thighs. Occasionally, as I massaged him, my fingertips bumped his scrotum, and more electric thrills passed through me.

Bending forward, I parted my lips to let the tip of my moist, pink tongue slide forth to lick the smooth-rough flesh of Brad’s tightly drawn scrotum. The ovals within the pouch rolled gently before the tender pressure of my lapping tongue. I gave his balls another stroke, wetting the pouch of skin with my saliva, before, opening my mouth more widely, I took one of Brad’s testicles into the warm-soft-wet cavern of my mouth.

It was wonderful to feel the presence of a cock inside my mouth. I marveled at the softness of Brad’s genitals. An erect prick does not seem especially soft—indeed, the concepts of erect and soft are antithetical—but Brad’s was soft. Like his balls, inside his tightened, risen scrotum, his prick was malleable, pliable, and supple. I kneaded his balls as if they were dough or clay. I also played with his penis. My squeezing, pulling, pushing, twisting fingers, like my licking tongue and nuzzling lips and pumping mouth, sculpted his member, elongating it, increasing its thickness, hardening its density, and polishing its smoothness.

I bathed Brad’s penis and testicles, my tongue the washcloth, my saliva the water. My mouth became a cylinder that sheathed the piston I made of his cock, thrusting the ring of my lips down and jerking them up, repeating this pumping movement again and again, faster and faster, making my head a machine that embraced Brad’s instrument. Then, my mouth was a garden, in whose interior I sought to plant his seed, that it might engender within my soul, if not within my belly, the emotional child of our passionate sexual union. Up and down, my lips, sealed round his cock, pumped and drove, and his soft moans were like music to me, his groans a symphony beyond the art and skill of even a Bach, a Beethoven, or a Brahms.

In a few moments, I abandoned his balls as I licked the smooth column of his rigid prick. My head tipped forward, and his gumdrop-glans penetrated my lips. Slowly, I lowered my head, sliding the “O” of my mouth down Brad’s rigid rod of flesh, past the bulging veins within his dick.

My head bobbed up and down, my sweet angel’s face frowning with concentration as I worked my rounded lips, plunging and withdrawing them, back and forth, upon his distended organ. My velvet-soft lips; my tender, wet tongue; and the watery inner cheeks of my mouth enveloped, bathed, and stroked his manhood, as if my mouth had become a vagina, clasping him within its tender, most intimate depths. I drooled, and my saliva dribbled down his shaft, anointing his balls.

Brad’s cock vanished and reappeared between my lips as I pumped them up and down upon his lurching, straining shaft. My rhythm, slow and steady at first, increased. The faster tempo elicited another moan from the depths of his soul, and Brad gasped. The pleasure building in his loins seemed to have all the insistent force of a river about to burst through the barrier of a dam. He gritted his teeth.

My lovely face stuffed with cock, I looked up at Brad. My wide blue eyes curved in crescent-moon shapes as I smiled, signaling to him that I was enjoying sucking his cock as much as he was enjoying being sucked. The fervency and ardor with which I ministered to his cock and balls were silent verifications of how much I loved my task.

I paused, letting his saliva-glistening cock slide free from the wet interior of my warm mouth, before I gave his purple glans an affectionate kiss, followed by a series of licks. My tongue bathed the length of his fleshly stalk, until, reaching its base, I lapped at his balls. I kissed each of his testicles through the taut flesh of his tightly bunched scrotum, before taking his organ back into my mouth to resume my teasing attentions. My head bobbed up and down. Unfortunately, within mere moments, Brad was compelled to stop me, lest he lose all control and spew his semen into my mouth, ending our lovemaking.


I released his cock from my oral embrace, looking up at him, past his jutting member. “Is something wrong?”

“I don’t want to come,” he explained, “not yet, at least.”

“Oh? What would you rather do?”

“I want to finish in your ass.”

Positioning myself on the bed, I faced away from him, on my knees, and dropped to my elbows. My legs were wide apart, and Brad could see the dainty dimple of my anus between the firm, compact globes of my derriere, and he studied the tight, puckered opening within the sleek globes of my buttocks until I became impatient, pleading with him to fuck me in the ass, deep and fast and hard.

The mattress dipped and swayed as he complied with my request; he took his place behind me. Brad took his cock in his fist, guiding the stiff shaft between the smooth, silken cheeks of my buttocks. A thrill, like electricity, shot through my body as his rubbery glans met the stout resistance of my asshole. He shoved hard, several times, before his prick pierced my tight little asshole and slid past the guardian sphincters, to slide into the more commodious chamber of my lower bowel. He pressed and shoved and rammed until the whole length of his monster cock was buried inside my rectum and his pubes ground hard against my flattened buttocks, his cock balls deep inside my sleek, firm-soft ass. Then, he remained motionless, letting me feel him inside me, cramming me full of his manhood, his virility, his manliness.

I never said a word, although, once, a moan escaped my lips before I could stifle it. However, I never once tightened my buttocks against Brad’s invasion, which showed him that I wanted to be filled as much as he wanted to fill me.

My buttocks remained absolutely still, an unspoken testament to the power of my will, for, of course, anyone, man or woman, who’s ever had even so much as a finger introduced into his or her ass—and Brad’s stiff, swollen cock was much bigger than a finger—can’t help, unless he or she has learned to control him- or herself through long and diligent practice, but to react, by pulling away or, at the very least, flinching or twitching. However, my buttocks remained acquiescent, accepting—perhaps, one might even say, welcoming.

The only resistance Brad received from me was the wholly involuntary fluttering of my impaled anus. Neither the strongest will nor all the practice and rehearsal in the world can stop a heart from beating, the lungs from breathing, or a penetrated anus from twitching and flexing about the shaft of the penis that invades it.

Brad enjoyed the spasms that squeezed and clamped his organ as the circle of my anal entrance—it is, normally, an exit, of course, but we who delight in the pleasure of sodomy make an ingress of an egress—pumped firmly and insistently, as if in a valiant, but vain, effort to dislodge his trespassing member and, in so doing, to stave off its conquest, invasion, and occupation. Finally, as he kept his balls pressed hard against my perineum, maintaining the full presence of his penis inside my bowel, my sphincter relaxed, admitting defeat, and widened, accepting the organ of its invasion.

However, no man gains entry to a girl’s—and that includes a t-girl’s—bowels simply for the sake of having accomplished this feat. Rather, admission becomes but the occasion for ravishing the impaled woman, and Brad had every intention of doing just this to me. He wanted to leave his semen upon my buttocks, as a mark or a brand; he meant to claim me, splattering my bottom with his seed.

Slowly, watching his cock emerge as he eased his hips backward, he withdrew his erection from the depths it had probed, watching as each inch of the rigid, swollen, shaft came into view between my skewered buttocks. It was, as always, a marvelous sight to observe! Were his prick twelve or eighteen inches long, the additional inches would have thrilled him that many times more, as each additional inch came slowly into view within the deep cleft between the sleek cushions of my beleaguered ass.

After ten wasted years of foolishly trusting in love to ‘cure’ me of my femininity, I had only just begun to re-embrace the sissy inside me when something made me reach out to an old friend. What made me do it, I really don’t know. Although I was once again revelling in even the smallest aspects of my femininity, treasuring and celebrating them in a way that only someone who has truly missed them can appreciate, I had made a conscious decision not to reach out to old friends.

It’s not that I didn’t miss them — I did miss them, and terribly — but I was afraid that they wouldn’t welcome the contact. Having been away so long, and having left the community so abruptly, I was afraid they would be angry with me for abandoning them.

I know I was angry with myself.

For some reason, though, something compelled me to reach out to Barbi. Not only was she one of my oldest and dearest friends, but she was always an erotic inspiration to me. No matter how life would bring me down, or how unfeminine I might be feeling, she was always there as an example of what all sissies and shemales might aspire to. She was my shemale goddess of transformation.

As delighted as I was to discover that her Fetish Shemale site was still around, I noticed right away that it hadn’t been updated for a while. I didn’t really give the fact that much thought at the time, but anxiously clicked on the email link, just to say hello.

To be honest, I was very much afraid that she wouldn’t remember me.

Much to my delight, she not only responded that same night, but she did remember me. We got to chatting, and she soon revealed to me that she had taken a bit of a break from her career, for personal reasons, and was planning to retire altogether.

That news left me heartbroken — for my goddess, for her fans, and for my own missed opportunities. Years ago, we had made plans to get together for some fun and maybe even a photo shoot, but something always happened to get in the way. We never did get our chance to meet up, and now that I had rediscovered her, I realised that chance would never come again.

I knew, right then and there, that somehow I would make good on those missed opportunities. If Barbi Satin was going to retire, then I was going to find some way to ensure that she ended her career with a bang.



As it turned out, it was nearly six months later before I got my chance. My ex and I had just finalized our divorce and, on a whim, I decided to buy a scratch ticket to celebrate. Imagine my surprise when I won! It wasn’t anything life-changing, but it was more than enough money to treat myself to a nice break, far away from the ex, the mother-in-law, and the rest of their wretched family.

I knew, instantly, what I had to do. It scared the hell out of me, but the very idea of it gave me such a thrill that I knew it was the right thing to do.

Barbi and I were still chatting on a semi-regular basis, and I had an open invitation to stop by any time I was in Pennsylvania. There were no commitments or expectations, just an invitation from one friend to another. Finally, after all this time, I planned to not only take her up on the offer, but to offer her the chance to take full advantage of the situation.

As much as I wanted to be with her, just once; as much as I desired the touch, the taste, the feel of my shemale goddess; as much as I need to place myself at her feet and have her validate my femininity; I was doing this, first and foremost, for her. If it hadn’t been for the fact that she was retiring, and I wanted to say ‘thanks’ in the only way I could, I never would have thought to impose.

Less than a week later, I found myself deep in the heart of Pennsylvania. Even with the GPS I somehow managed to get lost, but I eventually found myself parked in front of Barbi’s quaint little home just as the sun was going down.

My heart was racing. My throat was dry. My hands were shaking as I stepped up to the door and knocked. I was actually taken aback for a moment when she answered the door dressed like your average, ordinary housewife — assuming, of course, that your average, ordinary housewife came equipped with a 42 DD chest, 27 inch waist, 38 inch hips, and the bulge of an 8 inch cock in her panties.

“Yes?” she asked.

I was trembling so hard, it took me six tries before I could get a single word out. Instead of the practiced, rehearsed, perfect speech I had prepared on the drive down, I dropped my jaw and uttered a single, “Wow.”

She looked at me strangely for a moment. Forewarned by her past experiences dealing with Customs & Immigration, I’d had to be careful about how I presented myself when crossing the border. I had fully intended to stop somewhere on the US side to make myself properly presentable, but I was just too excited to waste a single moment.

As a result, I was looking very androgynous in a pair of women’s sneakers (white with a few subtle pink accents), unisex shorts (black), and a woman’s t-shirt (white). Even without makeup, padding, a wig, or jewellery to give me away, a woman would have noticed the fit of the clothes. Fortunately, the college-aged kid who checked my passport never looked twice.

“Heathyr?” Her eyes lit up in recognition. She reached out and crushed me to her chest. It felt so good, after all this time. “What the hell is your problem, girl? Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

I smiled and returned the embrace. Her body felt incredible against me, so perfectly shaped in absolutely every aspect. “I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“Well, it certainly is that.” She stepped back, giving me another look at her. Even though I had never seen her in anything other than leather and latex, she looked just as stunning in a t-shirt and jeans. Her body still had the kind of curves that any woman would die for, and her face was still sexy as hell, even without makeup. Of course, it was that telltale bulge between her legs that nudged her from gorgeous to absolute perfection.

She ushered me inside, but I paused on the doorstep. If I was going to do this, I had to do it right. I’d practiced this a hundred times on the drive down but, unlike my greeting, this was something I couldn’t afford to blow. I had to do it, and I had to do it right, even if all she did was laugh me off.

“Well?” she asked. “Are you coming in, or what?”

I dropped to my knees on her front porch, where any passing motorist or nosy neighbour could see — as few, and as distant as they might be — and leaned over to kiss the toes of her right foot. “Your humble slave hereby presents herself for your pleasure and amusement.” Up until that point, I had been consumed by worry that she might reject me, but there was no longer any doubt in my mind as I continued kissing her toes. “I know you’re planning to retire, Goddess, so I am offering myself, as unworthy as I am, as your retirement present.”

For the longest time, she just stared at me. What might have been running through her head, I have no idea. All I could do was continue worshipping her feet.

“Your sissy slave comes all expenses paid,” I explained. “Whatever you might desire this week, please consider it part of my humble gift to you.”

“You do understand what you’re saying, don’t you?” She shoved her foot into my mouth and watched as I sucked her big toe like a tiny little cock. “If you are serious about doing this, then you will be my bitch.” She began thrusting her foot in and out, fucking my mouth with her toe. “You will obey my every command, without question, and you will do it all knowing that the entire world will be watching.” She pulled her foot from my mouth and took another step forward. “Do you wish to be my bitch?”

“I do.” I kissed the calf to my left. “Make me your bitch.” I kissed the calf to my right. “I want to be Barbi’s bitch.”

She chuckled softly. “Oh, you fucking little slut . . . you shall.”


It was a long drive into the city, and Barbi wasn’t one for idle conversation. So, to fill the silence, she asked me questions and let me embarrass myself with the answers. When I started telling her about the sheriff who followed me through about 15 miles of empty roads, and my fantasy of having to suck his cock to get out of a ticket, she actually reached over and gave my sissy clit a squeeze.

“Don’t fret,” she laughed, “there’s always the drive home.”

That seemed to break the ice a bit. The rest of the drive was a bit more casual, although Barbi still didn’t give much away about herself. She was very, very good and controlling a conversation to the point where you had no idea just how well she had manipulated you until much later. Of course, as I hoped to explore for myself soon, I knew that conversations were not the only thing she was good at controlling.

A half hour later we found ourselves entering the city. Using my credit card, she had already made reservations for the honeymoon suite in one of the swankiest hotels for a hundred miles around. With her generous offer to have me pay for the privilege, they were more than happy to hold it for a late check-in.

“Turn here, bitch, and pull over behind that dumpster.”

I had no idea where we were, but it looked sketchy. It looked like one of those dirty, dimly lit alleys you see on a CSI or Law & Order type show where some innocent civilian stumbles across a grossly disfigured body. It actually scared me to be there. Hopefully, whatever she had in mind wouldn’t take long, or I was virtually certain we’d come back to the car to find it on blocks, with no doors, no seats, no stereo, and a body dumped in the back.

She popped the hatchback, took out my suitcase, and dumped my clothes in the ground. With no comment other than, “Come,” she led me deeper into the alley. It was a good thing neither of us had slipped into heels yet, as we had to carefully navigate two trash-strewn, rickety flights of a well-used fire escape. “Let’s hope they haven’t changed the locks,” she told me, “or you’re going to be squeezing through a window.”

As Barbi worked at it, she explained to me that the key was a quick copy she’d made several years ago, just in case she ever had the opportunity to use it again. One of her stripper friend of hers had used the original to let her in after hours for a video shoot back in the heydays of her site. I was pretty sure I knew which video she was talking about, and I was looking forward to seeing where it was filmed.

The door opened into a noisy, dimly lit, somewhat sour-smelling slice of heaven. There were dresses, gowns, skirts, corsets, stockings, bras, panties, peignoirs, and babydolls everywhere you looked. Lace hung next to leather, which hung next to PVC, which hung next to satin, which lay draped over a mess of cotton and rubber. Barbi could have locked us in that room for the week, and I would have been in heaven.

While I gazed around in wonder, Barbi had me hold open the empty suitcase as she began rifling though the collection of stripper’s outfits hanging along the wall to her right. I wasn’t sure what she was looking for, but she seemed to pull out every fourth or fifth piece and toss it my way.

As much as in awe of the potential for beauty around me, I was extremely uncomfortable with the idea of stealing, especially from our sisters in sex. As much as I tried to hide it — I had, after all, promised to obey my Goddess’ every command — she must have noticed my hesitation. I was nervously glancing back over my shoulder, in case somebody should come in the same way we did, when I felt her slap me across the face.

Startled, I turned around to see the loosely-held red velvet glove make a return slap across my other cheek. It smelled like cum and, judging by the wet smack, it was likely still fresh.

“Stop being such a stupid bitch,” she snarled, “These are the stripper’s castoffs — they won’t be needed again tonight.” She tossed the glove into the suitcase, along with its partner. “And since club is closed on Tuesdays, you will have two whole days to send them down to the hotel laundry to be cleaned once we’re done with them.”

Perversely, that really did make me feel better. I knew I should have been humiliated by the idea of asking the hotel to wash so much dirty, kinky laundry for me — especially since she’d booked us in under the male name on my credit card — but I was actually looking forward to it.

“Okay, that’s it for here.” Barbi had me zip up the suitcase before we hurried back down to the car. “Now, I need you to watch out for an ATM so we can withdraw a few cash advances off of your MasterCard.” She watched me for a reaction, but I was already fully committed to the expense of being her present. “Trust me,” she whispered, “you really don’t want a paper trail leading back to your male masquerade from some of the people we’ll be doing business with his week.”

I swallowed loudly. “Thank you.”

“After that, we need to make two more quick stops, and then you can start earning your place as my bitch.”


Once we arrived at the hotel, Barbi handed me her bag of purchases from the drug store and herded me into a bathroom that was larger than my bedroom back home. “Start with the enema first. Once you’re clean, get your ass in the shower and shave.”

“Yes, Goddess.” I was trembling in anticipation. “Do you want me to shave my sissy clit as well?”

She shook her head. With a mischievous smile, she told me, “Listen, you silly cunt, when I tell you to shave, I intend for you to shave.” She backed me into the bathroom until I nearly fell into the two-person tub. “If you come out of there with so much as a single hair anywhere below the top of your head, I will be very disappointed.”

I nodded meekly, even as I fingered my eyebrows. How the hell would I explain them at work next week? I had no problem shaving the rest of me — I’d done it enough times before, but the eyebrows scared me. At the same time, I was excited by the thought of just how much properly penciled-in eyebrows would transform me.

“While you’re getting yourself ready, I need to make some long-distance calls.” She pulled the door shut on her way out.

I immediately stripped naked. I ripped open the box and began fumbling with the enema kit. I’d never used one before but, like any good submissive slut, I knew how to follow directions. The kit came with a small bottle of lube, so I applied a generous amount to both my ass and the end of the plastic tubing. I filled the bag with warm water from the tap, added the ‘cleansing’ ingredient, and managed to hang everything from the showerhead using a wire dry-cleaning hanger behind the bathroom door.

If inserting the nozzle was uncomfortable, starting the enema itself was absolute misery. It took every ounce of my sissy submission to keep the solution inside myself for the prescribed twenty minutes. Of course, having to lie on my side in the cold tub probably didn’t make it any easier.

While I laid there, I could hear Barbi talking on the phone, although I couldn’t make out what she was saying or who she was talking to. The door to our suite opened and closed a half dozen times, but I too distracted to notice whether it was Barbi coming and going, or somebody else.

When it was time to release, I hobbled over the toilet and silently sang out with relief as it all came pouring out. Too squeamish to look, I blindly flushed the toilet, and then hopped into the tub.

Barbi had bought me a bottle of lavender scented shaving cream and a twelve-pack of women’s razors. I was determine to make the absolute best impression that I could, so I used one razor on each leg, another on my arms and chest, one on my eyebrows, and another on my pubes. The experience was actually very relaxing, and certainly helped to put me in a feminine frame of mind. By the time I was ready to shower away the residue, I could feel my fingers skimming and slipping across my soapy, naked, hairless body.

When I exited the bathroom, she was sitting on the edge of the bed, dressed in the black PVC minidress, full-length gloves, and knee-high boots I remembered so well from her photos. I could see the band of her black silk stockings protruding from the tops of her boots, along with the black lace ribbons running up her glorious legs to the garter hidden beneath her dress. The dress itself was cut very low, putting her incredible breasts on display.

My outfit, it turned out, was to be the precise opposite of hers. Where she wore black, I wore white. Where she wore PVC, I wore satin. Where she wore lace, I wore cotton. Where she wore a tight dress and little more, I was bound into a corset beneath mine. Where her breasts and cock featured prominently beneath her body-hugging outfit, mine were flattened and hidden beneath my own ensemble.

By the time I was done dressing to her satisfaction, I looked like an incredibly slutty angel just fallen from heaven, cast out for only god knows what kind of sins against nature.

Barbi sat me down before the dressing table and began doing my makeup. I, of course, couldn’t see what she was doing, but it felt like she was using a lot. Eyeliner, eye shadow, foundation, blush, lipstick, lip liner, powder, and a few other cosmetics I couldn’t see well enough to identify were expertly painted across my eager visage. Before she would let me see, however, she placed a long, blonde wig on my head and used what smelt like glue to hold it in place.

She stepped back to take in the whole picture, but shook her head. “Something’s not quite right.” I wanted to look for myself but, even without being told, I knew better than to ruin her moment.

Suddenly, her entire face lit up with a smile. She opened the top drawer of the dressing table and withdrew some pink lace ribbons. She then proceeded to put my hair into pigtails, using the ribbons to tie off each tail. With that done, she paced a pink bow into my hair.

“Nope. Too much.” She quickly took the ribbon away and tossed it back in the drawer. “Close your eyes.”

I immediately did as I was told. I felt Barbi pull me to my feet and lead me into the room’s walk-in closet. That, in itself, was a sissy’s dream.

“You may open your eyes.”

What I saw in the mirror was so startling, so unexpected, I had to look back over my shoulder three times to convince myself it really was a mirror, and that there was nobody else standing with us. The innocent, white, virginal slut in the mirror was . . . me. She — or, rather, I — was absolutely stunning. I couldn’t pick out a single thing that did it, but Barbi had truly created something new with me. That single glimpse in the mirror was so amazing, the memory of that transformation would be worth whatever this whole adventure ended up costing me.

“Thank you, Goddess.” I twirled in front the mirror and posed like a girl getting ready for her prom. “I never knew I could look like this.”

“There’s still something missing. Hold still.” I heard her rummaging around in another drawer, and then watched her return in the mirror. She was the very epitome of shemale lust, a walking, talking, breathing example of the kind of perfection that was only possible with a little nudge to our natures.

“Bend over, bitch.”

While bent over, I watched her draw a big pink heart on the small of my back with a glitter pen. She coloured in the heart, and then switched to a black Sharpie marker. With that, she wrote ‘sissy slut’ in very elegant, feminine lettering inside the heart.

“There. That’s better.” Barbi led me back into the main room of our suite, where she helped me into a pair of impossibly high heels. As white as the rest of my outfit, they were dull, brushed leather, designed to blend with my overall look. The heels on them were four inch stilettos — far more daring than anything I’d ever tried on before.

“Get walking,” she told me. “You have precisely ten minutes to practice before I send you on a little errand.”

Errand? I froze in mid-step. She as going to send me out like this?

She laughed cruelly. “You’re wasting valuable time, my slut.” She made a show of checking the clock on the bedside table. “You now have nine minutes left to practice.”

I don’t know whether it was the pressure that did it, or whether I was just a natural, but I was walking quite confidently — if not comfortably — by the end of the ten minutes. I still felt like I was going to topple at any moment, but I did like the way the heels forced me to take smaller, mincing steps, wiggling my ass in the process.

‘Very good.” She handed me my credit card. “Now, take yourself down to the bar and ask for a bottle of their finest red wine, and another of their finest white. They’ll probably offer to charge it to your room, but I want you to use the credit card.”

I started to protest, but she grabbed my cheeks and forced my mouth shut.

“I want you to use your credit card,” she whispered, “and sign the name of your male masquerade. Understand?”

With a quick nod, I grabbed the credit card and wobbled out the door.

Much to my delight, I was so completely passable as Heathyr, the bartender refused to accept my card. When he handed it back, he let his hand gently slide along mine, sending an electric thrill up my arm. He chatted me up and flirted with me while his partner retrieved the bottles, telling me it was a shame my ‘boyfriend’ was too much of a jerk to come down himself. He then took my hand once more and kissed it before I left.

On impulse, before my senses could get the better of me, I leaned across the bar and planted a quick kiss on his lips before sauntering back to our room.


Barbi, of course, expected no less — although she was a little shocked that I’d had the nerve to steal that kiss. “Here I thought you’d need a little booze to relax you, but apparently releasing your inner sissy slut did that all on its own.”

I was just about to say something completely inane when somebody else stepped in from the lounge portion of the suite. He was a scrawny looking boy, all sharp angles and protruding bones, with short black hair and a small patch of stubble on his chin. His mouth was set in what looked to be a perpetual scowl, judging by the frown lines on either side, and he didn’t seem the least bit interested to be there.

Before Barbi could introduce us, he came over and held up a series of plastic cards against first my face, then my dress. “Let’s clear up the situation right now,” he said in a scratchy voice. “My name is Alan. I’m an FTM transsexual lesbian, and I’m only here because Barbi pays well for my services.” He grabbed my face and turned it to the left, and then to the right, looking for my best side. “I have no interest in you, in her, or in whatever it is you’re planning to do together.”

“Oh, lighten up, Al.” Barbi laid herself down on the couch and lit up a cigarette.

He ignored her completely. “While I’m sure Barbi won’t be able to resist offering her suggestions, I am the photographer, and this is my shoot. You will do as I say, and nothing else.” He spun me around, measured my frame with his hands, and then pushed me away. “Got it?”

“Yes, sir.”

The photographer almost smiled. “You’re off to a good start.”

While Alan set up, Barbi instructed me to pour the wine — red for the two of them, white for myself. There were more lights, screens, flashes, and mirrors involved than I had ever imagined. Our room certainly looked like a professional photographer’s studio by the time he was done. I imagined it must have cost a pretty penny for all that equipment, not to mention his time, but I found I didn’t mind one bit.

For the next hour, they made me pose for a series of photos. Alan moved me around the room, put me into awkward positions, chastised me for being too rigid, and ridiculed me for being so loose. He made me hold poses for what seemed an eternity as he captured my sissy curves from every angle, or adjusted the lighting to be just right. The whole time, he kept reminding me to keep my eyes wide and innocent, even as the rest of me screamed the news of my sexual awakening.

Modelling was far more work than I ever guessed, only increasing my already immense respect for my Goddess. She’d been doing shoots like this for over fifteen years, and in far less forgiving surroundings than we found ourselves in.

At the end of the hour, Barbi got up off the couch and disappeared into the walk-in closet for a moment. When she came back out, she had a black bullwhip in her hands and a pair of handcuffs. She approached the bed with slow, deliberate, oh-so-sexy steps, her shapely legs almost hypnotizing me with their gait.

“Beg for it, bitch.”

Although self-conscious, at first, I soon got forgot about Alan and got right into proper sissy begging. “Please, Goddess, use your sissy. Tie me up, whip me, make me service your every desire.” She continued to stand beside the bed. “I need you, Goddess. I need to be your bitch. I need to serve you, to love you, to lick and suck and caress every in of your perfect form.”

“How would you serve me?”

“Any way you please, Goddess. My mouth is yours to fuck. My throat is yours to fuck. My sissy belly lives only to consume your magnificent cum.”

She handcuffed my right hand to the bed.

“My sissy cunt is yours to fuck. My anal virginity is yours to claim. I have cleaned myself for you Goddess, so that you can shove that magnificent cock deep inside me and fuck me raw, fuck me into oblivion, fuck me until you’ve shot your cum so deep inside me, it will never come out.”

She handcuffed my left hand to the bed. The whole time, our photographer kept snapping away.

As Barbi hovered over me, I stared right into the valley between her breasts. The spiderwebbed heart tattoo on her left breast was larger than life, almost demanding that I lick it off. “Oh, please, Goddess, use me for your pleasure. I am nothing but a useless sex toy, an elaborate doll with which to fulfill your desires before tossing me away like another piece of worthless trash.”

She began caressing me with the whip. “Would you let me hurt you?”

I hesitated, but only briefly. I loved bondage, but was terrified of pain. I was a sissy in every sense of the word, but I was fully committed to this. “Yes, Goddess.” I swallowed my fear and let the sincerity shine through my eyes. “If it pleases you, Goddess, I will take the pain you offer and accept is as the utmost pleasure, because it came from you.”

SNAP! The bullwhip extended halfway across the room with one flick of her wrist. It sounded painful, and all it had bitten was air. Barbi began gently slapping it across my body in a big ‘X’, coming in from the left, and then the right, and then the left again. Each kiss of the whip was a little harder, until I was flinching as much from the expectation of pain as the pain itself.

Alan came closer and zoomed in on the pink welts appearing across my skin. I could tell that was turning him on.

Just then, there was a knock at the door.

“Hmm, a little early.” Barbi quickly flipped the whip around and shoved the handle in my mouth. “Suck it,” she commanded, “while I see to the door.”

Unable to grasp the whip with my hands, which were still handcuffed to the bed, I sucked the handle of the whip, tasting her sweat in the well-used leather.

“Is this the bitch?”

I opened my eyes to find a huge, hulking, tattooed biker standing next to the bed. He was easily six-foot-two, nearly three hundred pounds, and looked like he could pick me up with one hand. At first glance, he looked dirty, like somebody who would have been hanging around the alley where we ‘borrowed’ the stripper’s outfits, but a closer look proved it was part of a carefully crafted image.

Beneath it all, he was actually extremely clean and very-well groomed.

Barbi climbed up onto the bed, crossed her legs, and settled down between my legs. “I need you to prove yourself to me, Heathyr.” She reached up and began stroking my cock beneath the layers of white. “I have a bit of a fetish for pierced nipples, and I want to be the first to enjoy yours.”

My eyes must have betrayed my terror, because she quickly set to work calming me down. “It’s not as bad as you think,” she promised. My limp sissy cock slipped free of its cotton panty prison and began growing in her hand. “Between the wine, the cream, the ice, and the . . . distraction -” she gave my cock a few hard strokes to emphasize, “- you’ll barely feel a thing.” With my cock still in her hand, she leaned forward and kissed me. It was a long, deep, hard kiss, full of love bites and lots of tongue. “You did say you were my present,” she reminded me, “and this is what I want.”

What could I say to that? “Please pierce me, Goddess.” Much to my surprise, I found that I meant it. “Put your mark on your bitch’s breasts and make them yours.” The very idea of it had me harder than I had ever been in my life. “I want to be your fetish.”

“Can we begin, already?” The biker was standing beside the bed with some frightening looking instruments in his hand.

“I’ll be in the lounge. I don’t need to see this.” Alan walked away and closed the adjoining door behind him.

“Are we ready, Heathyr?”

I nodded, too afraid to speak.

Now sitting on the far side of the bed, opposite our guest, Barbi continued slowly stroking my cock, holding off every time she felt my balls begin to swell, as the biker set to work. At first, I couldn’t help but watch as removed my top, washed my shaved chest with disinfectant, and then began squeezing and pinching my nipples to make them hard.

“Drink up, Heathyr, and watch only me.” As the white wine filled my mouth, I stared up into Barbi’s eyes and found something there I had never expected. It was party sympathy, part gratitude, and part . . . well, not quite love, but affection. It told me how much she appreciated this, and that was probably the most potent pain-killer of all.

“Nggghhhh!” I nearly choked on the wine as the first piercing shot through my nipple. “Aaaahhhaaiiee!” Sweat broke out over every inch of my body as the second piercing stabbed through.

Barbi stopped stroking my cock. She leaned over, kissed the sweat from my forehead, and smiled. “Absolutely beautiful – thank you.”

I looked down and found a small gold hoop through each nipple. Careful not to move them too much, Barbi lifted then to show me the tiny pink heart decorating each ring.

“Magnificent work, as always, Carl.” Barbi rolled off the bed and walked around to the biker’s side. “Will the usual do?”

He laughed. It was a deep manly laugh, the kind that struck terror into a sissy’s heart, even as it set that heart to fluttering. “You know it, babe.”

With that, Barbi dropped to her knees, unzipped his jeans, and took his cock into her mouth. It was already hard — I could tell he enjoyed his work — and it took her less than a minute to get make him cum in her mouth. Entranced, I watched every moment of it, wishing that I was down there with her, paying my fair share. When he came, I saw her cheeks bulge with the volume of sperm, and drooled over the thin, white trails running down either side of her mouth.

When she turned to the bed, I saw the glint in her eyes and hoped desperately that she was going to do it. She sauntered over to the bed, visibly swishing and gargling the cum inside her mouth. She leaned over me, pulled her hair back, and let a long string of white begin to stretch from between her dark red lips to mine. I could smell it, almost taste it, and opened my mouth wide to accept it.

To my dismay, she slurped the string of sperm back into her mouth and swallowed it all with a lip-smacking grin of contentment. “Sorry to get your hopes up, bitch, but the only cum you’re tasting tonight is your own.” She wiped the stray cum from her chin and licked the finger clean. “And mine, of course, should you prove yourself to be worthy of the honour.”


Between the pain, the wine, and the stress of it all, I must have dozed off for a while. Next thing I knew, I was standing in the shower with a naked Barbi standing before me. She was gently washing my nipples under the hot spray. It still hurt — a lot — but it was the kind of pain you could almost get used to. Then, of course, you moved and it exploded fresh and fiery inside your chest.

After the shower, we dried each other off, and she applied more cream to my nipples. It helped to numb the pain a bit, although it made me want to keep touching them to confirm they were still there. Barbi batted my hands away twice before I managed to control myself, warning me that I’d get an infection if I didn’t leave them alone.

By this point, Alan had returned and was taking photos again. He circled around us, shooting up and down, close-up and from afar, as we dressed. Barbi slipped back into the black PVC dominatrix outfit that was her trademark, while she dolled me up as a slutty Catholic school girl. The blouse was too small. It showed off the tender, swollen mounds of my pierced sissy breasts, and revealed a good inch of naked belly at the bottom. The skirt was too tight and too short, revealing a glimpse of my bulging panties to any who cared to look.

Barbi pulled fishnet stockings up my legs, intentionally tearing them in spots as she did so. The only thing she allowed to be perfect was the seam running up the back of each leg. My shoes were small little black numbers, scuffed and worn, with six-inch heels that made it hard for me to stand.

As for my makeup, it felt slathered on, far more heavy and bold than my earlier look. Whereas she had sent a virginal shemale slut down to the wine earlier, it was a whorish sissy slut she’d be calling up for whatever she had in mind now.

This photo shoot was much like the first — another hour of dancing and prancing around to Alan’s rapid commands, stretching and contorting my body into positions never before imagined. Barbi sat on the couch, enjoying her wine and cigarettes, speaking up only to ensure that Alan emphasized my flat chest and swollen cock with the photos.

I was still somewhat weak from the pain (no doubt buzzed from the wine), but I loved every moment of it. For some reason, the brazenness of my outfit turned me on far more than the perfection of my earlier look, making me want to fall to me knees and cry out for Barbi to use me. By the time we were done, I was so horny that pre-cum was literally running down my stockings.

The photo shoot ended with me lying on the floor, looking up at Barbi’s black panty-clad cock, while I sucked her heel and licked the sole of her boot. “So, what do you think,” she asked me. “Is my slut ready to become my bitch?”

I knew better than to stop sucking, so I just nodded frantically.

Barbi pulled her heel from my mouth, stepped across the room, and laid herself down on the bed. “If you don’t mind, Al, I’d like you to stay for this. I know you have your limits as to what you’ll photograph, but if Heathyr’s deflowering is to be my retirement present, then I’d really like a record of it to enjoy.”

Much to my surprise — and Barbi’s, judging by the look on her face — Alan actually smiled. “I’d like to see where this goes. You’ve always been a great client,” he told Barbi, “and I’ve grown rather fond of your little sissy here.” Alan came over and nuzzled my cheek with his stubbly chin. “If you ever decide to get rid of that piece of meat between your legs and become a real woman, look me up.”

With that, he turned away and began not only setting up his photographic equipment, but checking and adjusting Barbi’s video recording equipment as well. I’d completely forgotten about the video camera until that moment. Were we live? Was I being used and abused for the titillation of an invisible audience? I was surprised to find that the idea really didn’t bother me. In fact, it turned me on. As shy as I normally was, Barbi’s bitch apparently was a brazen little slut.

Barbi ordered me to pour drinks for Alan and herself, although the photographer had barely touched his last glass. With wine glass in hand, Barbi stretched out on the bed and commanded, “Lick me, slut, from head to toe and back again.” She pointed a gloved finger my way. “Allow your sissy tongue to so much as touch my breasts or my cock, and I’ll throw you out on the street, dressed as you are, and this will all be over.”

The street wasn’t so much a threat, but the idea of having come so far only to fail was devastating. Not that I needed a threat to obey my Goddess, but a little extra motivation never hurt anybody.

I started with her left foot, the one I’d been sucking on the floor. Carefully lifting it in my hands, I sucked her heel deep into my mouth, then bathed the sole of her boot in kisses before licking those kisses away. Next, I licked my way up one side of her boot, bringing my face so close to the temple of her sex that I could smell it, and down the other. I then licked my way up the front of the boot, tracing the criss-crossed laces with my tongue.

With the taste of well-oiled leather still in my mouth, I let my tongue travel up the strap of her garter, and then lovingly licked and kissed the scant few inches of naked flesh between the top of her stocking and the hem of her dress. Performing my act of oral worship on her dress proved to be the most difficult step of the process. I crossed back and forth across the front of it, leaving stripes of sissy saliva behind, until I reached the top edge of her wide, black, PVC belt.

I literally had to force myself to stop, because I was so naturally drawn to the magnificence of her breasts. I wanted to bathe them in kisses, plunge my tongue into the deep valley between her mounds, and suck on her giant brown nipples until I could no longer breathe.

Instead, I turned my head aside and licked my way up the side of her dress, making sure to stay well below the swell of her breasts. Once I reached her shoulder, I took her arm in my hands and kissed my way across the naked flesh of her upper arm, and then across the leather of her gloves. She allowed me to take each finger into my mouth, one by one, and suck them like five little cocks. I then kissed my way back up to her shoulder.

There, I paused, not sure what to do next. Barbi solved that dilemma for me. “Kiss me, bitch, and let me taste that tongue.”

We kissed for a good twenty minutes, sucking each other’s tongues, biting each other’s lips, and generally just mashing our faces together. She tasted of wine, cum, and cigarettes, but it was the sweet taste of ambrosia to me. When she finally broke off the kiss, I kissed the rest of her face, careful not to disturb her makeup, and buried my face in the overflowing blonde tresses atop her head.

Naturally, I then kissed and licked and sucked my way back down the other side of her body, doing everything I had the first time, but in reverse.

“Oh, fuck the cock thing.” Alan was laying on the bed beside me, taking close-ups of my face against Barbi’s flesh. “Keep it in your skirt, and you can lick me any day.”

Barbi just laughed. “Nice sentiment, but she’s my sissy slut.” She turned her attention to me. “You’ve show remarkable passion and patience.” She downed the rest of her wine and handed me the glass. “Bring me a glass of white this time.”

When I returned with the glass, she snatched it from my hand, then grabbed me and pulled me onto the bed. “Put your head between my breasts and get ready to clean me with that talented tongue of yours.”

The moment I laid my head between her breasts, Barbi began pouring white wine down the cleft between her mounds. I lapped it up as quickly as it fell, tasting the distinctive tang of her sweat mixed with the sweetness of the wine. Even when she stopped, I kept kissing and licking, luxuriating in the sensual overload. Next, she freed one breast from her top and began pouring wine over it. The moment my lips touched her nipples, and began suckling wine from her tits, I felt a tiny spurt of sissy cum flood my panties.

‘This is the day. This is the day’ Andy repeated the mantra all the way to the batter’s box.

“Bottom of the ninth and batting last is every one’s favorite SysAdmin. With runners on second and third and a score of 2 to 4 with two outs — it all comes down to this. So far it’s been an epic battle between sales and IT in this year’s company softball tournaments. Yes sir, it’s all down to this at bat to see if the boys of IT can break the 5 year loosing streak against the folks of the sales department.”

‘Will someone shut that idiot up’ Andy thought bitterly and then quickly cleared the thoughts from his head. There was too much riding on this to get angry… ‘This is the day. This is the day…’

“Swing and a miss. At this point the hairy geek has got to be sweating more than a harlot in church on an Alabama Sunday summer morning.”

‘What the hell? Did Harry Caray have a one night stand with a southern minister?’ Andy shook his head and focused on the pitcher. Just one hit and his plan would come to fruition. Just one hit and he’d take the whole IT team back to the house and share his home, his food, his wife and his wine. This gang bang was the one thing that brought his department together to try one more time to beat those asses from sales. She didn’t know this was coming, but this very scenario has been her most passionate fantasy ever since he’d known her and she loves surprises so this should…

“What is the big man thinking? He didn’t even swing at that one. So this is strike two. Looks like this is going to be a Casey At The Bat story. So folks I’d like to thank you for taking part in this year’s tournament. Seat cushions provided by Parson’s Pest Control. Do you have-”

‘Will that old redneck shut up! God, I hate that poem. This will be the day. This will be the…’

“Holy Mother! The geek’s gotten a hold of that one. Is it… Is it… It is! It’s out of the park ladies and gentleman. The streak is broken. IT five, sales four. The IT department wins. The IT department WINS!”

‘This is the fucking day.’ Andy was all smiles while he jogged around the bases. As he rounded third base he saw his team running to meet him at the home plate.

“Boys”, he shouted, “the party’s at my house!”


“So when are we going to get down to this?” Michael asked as he squinted into the late afternoon sun. The nine guys of the IT team lounged around Andy’s back patio. The smell of the last of the barbecue was mingled with the smell of fresh cut grass from a neighbor’s yard. From the look on his teammate’s faces Andy knew he couldn’t make them wait much longer.

“OK. You guys start getting your women out of here and I’ll go get Catherine ready.”

“Get me ready for what?”

Andy’s face sunk as he heard the back door open and the sound of the wives and girlfriends spill out onto the patio. Amidst howls and cheers from the guys Andy met his wife before she made it too far onto the patio.

“Honey, I have a surprise for you” Andy said using his smoothest voice as he led her back into the house.


“You set up what?” Catherine asked as her face showed a mask of fear, anger and… interest.

“I checked with every guy, they’re all clean. They are into this and they promised to be discrete.” Andy was starting to feel as if the walls of their bedroom were closing in on him. “This is the perfect opportunity for you to fulfill that fantasy of yours.”

“That’s not the point! You should of talked to me about this.”

“But you said you wanted this to be a surprise?” It was Andy’s turn to show a mix of emotion: fear, confusion and a hint of hope.

Catherine took a steadying breath and tried to calm her voice “But you big dummy, I started my period today.”

Andy now understood her anger, he forgot about biology. With a sheepish, half grin he suggested “We could… uhm… go ahead anyway. I don’t think the guys would mind?”

“But I would!” Catherine’s anger was returning. How dare he surprise her like this?

“OK. OK. We’ll just forget it. I’ll go break it to the guys; they’ll understand. They’re geeks and are used to disappointment. I’ll find another way to make it up to them… somehow.” Shaking his head sadly Andy turned towards the door.

“Oh bullshit. Don’t you try to guilt me like that.” Catherine’s tone froze Andy in his tracks. He realized he’d gone too far. Andy slowly turned back towards his wife. He was bracing for the storm that he’d caused. But what he saw shocked him; his wife was smiling.

“I know you were trying to do something for me and your work friends. You were trying. So give me a few minutes to see if I can figure out something. You run along…” There was a long pause and Andy could almost hear the wheels turning in her head “… and play with the guys.”

Andy opened his mouth to say something but Catherine shushed him. “No questions. Go.” And with that Catherine all but kicked him out of their home.


Nathan looked at his boss with concern “What do you think she’s planning?”

The question hung in the air for a long time. The crickets were active and the moon was midway up the sky. The guys had been banished to the back yard for several hours now. The only clues about what was awaiting them was the sound of cars coming and going and the stray giggles that could be heard escaping each time the front door was opened and closed. The one time they tried to go inside they were greeted with screams of ‘Get out’, a case of beer, a gallon of tea and a mandate to piss in the tree line if they needed.

Andy shook his head and finally replied “I don’t know man, I really don’t know.”

About 15 minutes before eleven the backdoor opened and Catherine stood in the doorway, hands on her hips, wearing a company league softball uniform.

“OK! Listen up boys. It’s game time.” Catherine’s voice boomed across the patio and echoed into the night. She strode onto the patio, followed by the rest of the women. They all wore company softball uniforms.

Catherine stared at the guys who were all dumbfounded. She cocked her head and took a moment to look each man dead in the eye. A smile started to spread across her face, but she quickly suppressed it.

“Damn it men, go get your asses in uniform. We have a fucking game to play.”

At that last comment the guys looked to Andy for a clue as to what they should do. He shrugged his shoulders and motioned for them to head into the house. With that the guys started to file into the house to get their game bags. As Andy started to follow his teammates, a soft hand pulled him to the side. Thinking Catherine wanted to explain what was going on he waited. After the last of the guys disappeared into the house Catherine, Micheal’s wife Sarah and John’s girlfriend Angie surrounded him as the back door was closed. Angie was almost unable to stop herself from giggling as she put her face near Andy’s and asked, in a tinkling voice, “And where do you think you were going?”

Andy shrugged, hesitated for a moment and said in a confused voice “Umm… with the rest of the team?”

Sarah starred at him, unblinking and cold. She raised one eyebrow and said “But she said for the men to go get dressed.” The stress on ‘men’ wasn’t lost on Andy. It was at that moment that he noticed the telltale bulges in the women’s tight fitting uniform pants.

“Guys let him be. Andi will understand soon enough. Angie would you make sure all the rest of the team gets to the field no sooner than 2:00am. Keep them… entertained until then. Sarah and I have to get our star ready.” The way Catherine said his name, in a girlish, singsong way, did little to calm his growing concern.

As Andy watched Angie bounce into the house a knot formed in the pit of his stomach. Catherine saw him go pale and said, with mock sympathy, “Ah… what’s the matter Honey? Don’t you like surprises?


A silent stalemate set in on the patio while the three heard everyone exit the house, vehicles start, and then cars driving off into the night.

“Where’s everyone going?” Andy tried to sound nonchalant but it came out in a pinched, quiet whisper.

Keeping with her cold persona, Sarah replied over her shoulder as she headed into the house. “They are going to a strip club to get ready for the main show later tonight.”

Catherine grabbed Andy’s upper arm and led him into his own house. With a sarcastic voice Catherine added, “Come on sweetie. We have to go get you ready.” Once the trio entered the master bedroom, the women sat Andy on his bed and stood over him. Andy finally found his voice. “What exactly do you have in mind? The guys go to a strip club and I have to sit it out?”

“Not exactly dear” his wife said. Putting her hands on her hips, Catherine took on a slow, friendly voice. It was the type of voice you would use explaining a complicated problem to a child. “Quite to the contrary silly. You will be the center of attention.” For the first time Sarah’s facade broke as a slight giggle escaped her deep red lips. Catherine, ignoring her partner, continued. “I know you are a good man, and that you were trying to bring your team together, so we’re going to help you. If a gangbang is what it is going to take to reward them, then they’re going to get one.”

Andy wasn’t sure where this was going but it didn’t feel like a place he wanted it to. Always hopeful, he suggested “So you’re getting a stripper for this?” His comment elicited a belly laugh from both of the women. Before they had even caught their breath Catherine let out, “No silly gurl, you won’t have to strip.”

Andy’s heart sunk. As the women finished their laughter, Sarah walked over to the bathroom door and grabbed a plastic shopping bag. Catherine resumed her boss posse, hands on her hips with a stern look on her beautiful face. “You promised the guys that they’d get to fuck a hot slut and, since I love you, I’m going to help you keep that promise. It’s really the same plan. The only difference is that you are going to be the hot slut.”

Andy’s head was rolling, but he was, by trade, a problem solver. “How about one of the other women? Did you ask them if they wanted to take the role. I mean the fantasy is common enough.” While he started strong, the last sentence came out more like a pleading petition than a strong suggestion.

“Oh, I did! But,” Catherine let a pregnant pause fill the room. She leaned forward and, putting her lips inches from his face, she finished in a soft, sexy tone, “they liked my idea better.” The smile that spread across her face was a mix of triumph, eroticism and just a hint of pure evil. Catherine tweaked his nose, stood up and began to pace in front of him. “You see, you shared one of my deepest, most personal fantasies with everyone in your office. I told you that in confidence, in the throws of passion. Your betrayal of that privacy hurt me, deeply.”

Catherine’s smile slid from her face for the briefest of moments. In that moment, Andy realized the mistake he’d made. He had hurt the person he loved more than anything else in the world. Catherine saw the look of pain on her husband’s face and for a moment considered backing out of her plan, but that moment passed and she rationalized to herself that even if she wanted to back out now she couldn’t. The plan was already set in motion.

“Ah, sweetie. I know you didn’t try to hurt me.” She bent down and lightly touched the side of his face. She looked deep into his big brown eyes and saw that he knew he was in the wrong. He couldn’t hold her glaze and had to look down. Catherine lightly brought his chin up so she once again had his eyes.

“But you did.” her voice matching the sadness in her husband’s eye. “However,” her tone becoming hopeful, “you can fix it and make everything even.” The tears that had started to form at the corner of Andy’s eyes began to dry as he asked “How?”

“Tit for tat dear. You gave away one of my secrets so I get to give away one of yours.” She stood up and pulled over the chair from her makeup table. She sat down and leaned towards her husband like a conspirator in a some great scheme.

“You see, after we exiled you and the guys to the backyard, I talked to the girls. And while a couple of the women even volunteered to help you guys out you had hurt us, all of us. You hurt them by offering their spouses a way to cheat on them, you hurt me by telling everyone my desires and you hurt all of us by not being honest. So I came up with a plan. First I pulled up your computer and showed the girls those sites you like to browse at night?” Andy looked confused, he often caught up on tech news after he got home from work. Catherine saw his confusion and smiled. “Oh, I don’t mean the boring ones. I showed them the fun ones.”

Andy’s mouth went slack as his wife continued.

“I pulled the sites up for all the everyone to see and we went through your history.”

Andy’s eyes went wide. He enjoyed pornography and had never been shy about sharing it with Catherine. In turn, she shared the porn she liked with him. That’s when he first learned about her group sex fantasies. His taste for porn was wide and varying. He liked women, lesbians, lingerie, group, straight, and even a little bit of gay male stuff. But he knew at once what sites she had shown them. “Crossdressers.” The word escaped his lips against his will. It was the one fetish he had that was the hardest one for him to accept. As such it had taken a long time for him to share it with his wife.

Sarah took that as her cue to pull a pair of white stockings with bright red bows from the bag and drop them on the bed.

Catherine’s voice took on a tone of evil joy. “Here’s the deal honey. Tonight you can make amends to me, the other women and give your guys the reward you promised them. All you have to do is, how should I say, take one for the team.” Andy heard Sarah mutter something under her breath about ‘more than one’ but he ignored it.

“And if I can’t?” Andy really didn’t think he could go through with it. This was too much.

Shrugging her shoulders Catherine added, “Then all of the women have promised to never mention what they know about you to their men. The guys will go to the strip club thinking that a night with the dancers was their reward. And they will go back to work on Monday thinking you had bit off more than you could chew. Life will go on for everyone.”

Catherine let another pause hang before she added in a slightly hurt tone, “Except you will have to live knowing that you have betrayed my trust and didn’t try to make it up to me when you had the chance.” She knew he was just trying to make her fantasy a reality and really couldn’t think badly of her husband. He didn’t mean to hurt her and she felt no great animosity towards him. So as she looked down at her husband’s shocked face she knew she was playing an evil game. But what Andy didn’t know was that she had other group sex fantasies; ones she hadn’t shared with him yet. The one she had in mind put her husband of over a decade in the staring role of just such a situation. When else would she get a chance like this?

Andy just sat on the bed he and his wife shared feeling like a monster. What had been an attempt to make everyone happy had just been turned on its head. For a moment he thought hard about saying no. Fantasy and pornography was one thing but these were his friends, neighbors and co-workers. He knew he couldn’t face them come Monday morning. But as he looked up at his wife he knew he would do anything for her. And, if he was honest with himself, he’d seen a few transvestite gangbang videos that he found incredibly arousing. He took a deep breath, looked at the women, and asked with a great deal of resignation “What do I have to do?”


The woman hopped up and down squealing like school girls. The smiles that they shared almost made him change his mind.

“OK, first off you have to be more… feminine. ” Sarah, the icy persona now lost for the moment, said in a surprisingly giddy tone. She waved her hand up and down in his direction. “That means all that hair has got to go.” With that, the women all but drug him to the shower and began to strip him.

While Andy normally wouldn’t have had an issue with two women stripping him down, he suddenly felt very self-conscience. Sure he was going to be dolled up but he still wanted to give a good impression. However, Andy was a grower and not a shower. And with everything that had just went down he didn’t feel much like growing. “Uhm, ladies can I have a moment to myself. I .. err.. need… uhm … yea”.

Reading his mind, Catherine chided him. “Give it up you little slut. For the next few hours you’re our bitch and what you call your ‘cock’ isn’t an issue. You don’t even get to have a cock, you have….” Catherine drew a blank that Sarah was happy to fill in. “You have a clitty.” Catherine and Sarah both shared another giggle at this idea. Andy started to grow bright red. With that Sarah undid his fly and dropped his jeans and boxers in one swift motion. She glanced down at his crotch and giggle “Yep, a little sissy clitty.” The mild humiliation was actually arousing him; he felt more and more like he might be able to make a good impression after all.

The women were giggling at his obvious arousal. They began to alternate between touching him and each other. “Hey Cat, I think she likes it.” Catherine nodded and added. “Oh, you have no idea how much he likes this. I mean he gets off on the most outlandish stuff. I mean we’ve been in bed after she’s spent the evening looking at the ‘gurls’ and you wouldn’t believe some of the fantasies she comes up with. ‘Put me in panties.’ ‘Make be suck cock.’ ‘I want to be your slut.” Catherine stopped to wipe tears that her giggling had caused. “Oh man, his cock… err… her clitty gets so hard she almost shakes.” Both women broke into more laughter at Catherine’s mocking. As Andy continued to remove his clothing, their giggling gave way to a deep tongue kiss.

Andy couldn’t believe it. Here was his wife telling her friend some of his most twisted fantasies. He felt betrayed, shocked and, most surprising of all, unbelievably aroused. He no longer had anything to fear about making a good first impression; his cock was harder than it had been in a long time.

The women broke their embrace and Catherine stopped to look at Sarah. “Wait! Men get to have two hot women playing with them.” She look at Andy with a serious expression. “This is your last chance. We can stop now and go no further. But,” Catherine paused long enough to stroke Sarah’s breasts through the uniform with an opened mouth moan, “you live with your choice.” Catherine’s hand roamed lower on Sarah’s body. “However, if you accept, for tonight only, you quit being a man. You are going to be transformed into a gangbang gurl. Are you sure you want to go on?” Catherine was now masturbating Sarah through her uniform. Sarah’s mouth was forming the classic O shape. Andy didn’t think she was faking it. At this point he was quite enjoying himself and the live show that was happening in front of his eyes. He quickly accepted with a short, croaking “Yes”. Catherine nodded at her partner in crime and the women shared a quick, knowing look. They were sure that their plan would work.

It was now Sarah’s turn to torment Andy. “Although”, she started, “you won’t be a woman either.” She shook her head disapprovingly. “I mean look at those ugly balls.” To drive her point home, she slapped his testicles with the palm of her hand. She was none too gently either. “So you obviously not a woman. You’re going to be a ‘gurl’ and our little bitch.” This was delivered with another slap of his now sore balls. The change in tone, and pain, was quickly deflating his erection. “You’re going to be our bitch, our little slut.” Sarah added three more shots to his balls in quick succession, the whole time giggling at the result the impacts were having. His cock was as flaccid as when he walked into the bathroom. This seem to please both of the women.

Catherine reached over and lightly ran her finger over the much reduced length of his cock. She nodded, pleased with their handiwork. She addressed Sarah. “Much better. That looks more like a proper clitty for a horny slut.” She turned to Andy “And do you know what sluts get?” Andy had suddenly become shy but Catherine was having none of it. She slapped his ball quite hard. Raising her voice she asked again “What do you sluts get?”

Andy let out a sheepish “They get fucked.” Catherine delivered another slap followed by a harsh squeeze. “Say it louder. Remember this is what you wanted. You wanted to see someone get gang fucked. You wanted to see a lot of men’s cock in a hole. You wanted a surprise. So own it you fucking slut.” Each sentence was issued with a crush of his testicles. “Besides, you’ve always wanted to be a little bitch. So tell me, what do sluts gets?”

Andy had always been physically much bigger than Catherine but with the mixed emotions, the eroticism, the pain and the shouting he seemed strangely small at the moment. The rush of power was intoxicating to Catherine. She liked it and she liked it when Andy cried out from her crushing “They get fucked”. Yeah, this was going to be fun.


The next couple of hours was a mad rush to get everything done. First the women took to Andy with razors and creams to remove every bit of hair from his body; including his signature beard. Once the task was finished the women went back to the bedroom, leaving Andy to clean up. As Andy knelt, washing the last of his hair down the bath tub’s drain, Sarah threw a box at Andy’s feet. Confused he opened it. Inside he found a length of hose, a tube-like nozzle and a large red rubber bag. Sarah looked down at him “It’s a enema bag. As a ‘gurl’ you have to be soft, sweet smelling and clean… inside and out. Before you shower, make sure that pussy-ass of yours is an inviting place for the men.” With that she continued on to the bedroom.

As Andy filled the bag he heard the women talking in the bedroom.

“Is he going to be able to take a cock in his pussy-ass?” “Lady, you have no idea.” Andy heard the bed springs squeak and then a drawer slide open. “When he’s… err … she’s in the mood, this goes up that pussy-ass of hers.” Sarah gasped. “I don’t know if I could take that vaginally.” “Yeah, she’s a real size queen.”

Andy’s face felt like it was on fire as he lubed up the nozzle and worked it into his ass. He reached up and loosen the valve on the tubing. As the warm water flooded his rectum he had no choice to but to keep listening to women in the adjoining bedroom.

“So does she talk a lot about gay sex?” “Some, but she’s usually focused more on blowing guys than anal. I asked her one time and she said it wasn’t as gay. I fuck her with her dildo once in a while but she said that a guy doing it would be gay.” “But wait, how could it be gay? I mean it’s only gay if a man is fucking a man.” “Hey that’s right! Hey, my little ass-cunt.” Catherine shouted towards the bathroom. “Good news, you don’t need to worry about being gay. Only men can be gay. So there’s no problem with you taking some hard cock up that pussy-ass of yours.”

Both of the women giggled at that.

“Yeah, a nice big, hard, manly, cock would be fun right now.” Sarah reflected. “Oh, hell yeah. Just a couple of hot women and sissy slut. Our gurl could get him ready and we could enjoy a man’s touch.” Catherine started making soft, moaning sounds.

Andy couldn’t see the women but the sounds were driving him mad. Over the next several minutes, Sarah and and his wife continued talking about hard bodied, well hung men and making mildly derogatory comments about what he would enjoy having a man do to him. He went through several refills of the enema bag listening to them. After he had passed two clear bags worth he showered, thankful that he couldn’t hear them anymore.

Catherine had taken his shampoo and bar of soap out of the shower and left him a pink shower puff, a melon and honey scented body wash and a set of pink, swirling shampoo and matching conditioner. As he washed his now smooth body, Andy couldn’t help but touch his cock. One stroke and he was as hard as stone again. Just as he started a slow rhythm he heard the shower curtain rattle. Catherine and Sarah stood there laughing and pointing.

“Oh my god, she is such a slut. She can’t wait to get off.”

“That’s enough of that. Besides, that’s not a how a gurl masturbates anyway. Finish washing and get out of there.”

Andy had never had a problem masturbating in front of Catherine but he now felt very ashamed. He dropped his cock like it was hot and finished washing off. As he stepped out of the shower the women attacked him with towels, oils, lotions and powders. When they finished he smelled like a mix between fruit stand and a flower shop.

Sarah took his hand and led him to Catherine’s makeup table. Over the next 15 minutes, his hard male features were softened and lightened. He would never be mistaken for a woman up close, but he sure wouldn’t be mistake for a man either.

“Better, but it’s missing something.” Sarah mused. Both women stood there for a moment considering what to add to the scene before them.

“Oh, I know.” Catherine snapped her fingers. She pulled out a drawer of her makeup table and pulled a package of small, bright colored, plastic hair clips. The clips had small animals on them and were usually worn by youths.

“Andi had me get these to wear with a little school girl outfit I got a couple of years ago.” As she talked, Catherine pulled Andy’s hair back into a short, bob; the brightly color clips stand out on his dark hair. As she held one of the open clips in her mouth she mumbled, “I think this is just the thing to make her look innocent. Men like fucking sweet little gurls.” Just when Andy thought he couldn’t blush anymore his face turned a deeper shade of crimson.

Sarah let a high pitch squeal out. “Perfect! Now let’s get her dressed.”

As Andy stood up under Catherine’s direction, he noticed an outfit had been laid out on the bed. It was bright white with red accents. There was a white top with small red bows around the waist line, a white garter, sheer white stockings with red bows at their tops and a pair of white shoes with 2″ inch heels. Catherine walked up behind Andy and held him close. She leaned in and softly said “While you were out back with the men, I went shopping. Looks like we’re going to have to make room in your closet because after tonight this is going to stay with your clothes. After tonight you’re going to have to admit you like the thought of being a bitch. After tonight I’m going to have great fun turning you into a little sissy gurl whenever I want.” She rubbed the bulge in her pants against the checks of his ass. “That is, unless you don’t want to go on with this.” She reached around and grabbed his cock. As she expected, his dick was growing hard. “Yeah you’re a little whore.” She kissed his shoulder, stroked his cock and rubbed her strap-on hard against him. “You’re my little whore… and tonight I’m going to break you in.”

Over several awkward minutes Andy struggled to put on the delicate items. He felt stupid. He was a big, hairy, or used to be hairy, guy putting on hose and garters. He knew he looked absurd but he was hard as he could be.

The last step was to put on the shoes. As long as he took small steps on carpet he wasn’t too bad. To capture the moment Sarah grabbed Catherine’s digital camera and took some candid shots of Catherine and her bitch. Andy was red faced but his cock was hard as stee, in each picture. Once the impromptu photo shot was done, Catherine pulled a pair of white, lacy, cotton panties up over Andy’s garters and cock.

“That way we can get to that pussy-ass of yours whenever we want.” Sarah explained. Once Catherine had gotten Andy’s cock packed away, she patted him on the ass and asked with her other hand outstretched, “Shall we go?”


Before they had even made it to the car, Andy had noticed that a huge wet spot of pre-cum had spread over the front of his panties. ‘Fuck!’ Andy thought to himself. ‘The front of my panties? I can’t believe I’m thinking like this. The front of the panties. The front of the panties.’

As they walked into the garage Andy found his voice for the first time since he accepted his role. “I need a jacket or something… that way someone won’t see me.” Sarah was closest so she delivered the punishment; another slap on the balls.

“Gurls talk softer than that. And they don’t ask, they beg!”

Andy balanced the humiliation that he’d face if someone outside saw him like this against the humiliation he’d already faced at the hands of these women. He swallowed and in his softest voice asked, “May I please have something to cover up with?” As an afterthought he added another pathetic sounding “Please?”

Catherine thought he was so cute. She walked over to him, placed her hand on the side of his face and pushed downwards. “On your knees bitch and beg me for it. Beg me for something to solve your complaining.” She now understood why guys liked treating women like that in porn. It was an amazing power rush.

Andy slowly got on his knees, trying hard not to twist an ankle on the way down. Once he made it down, the hard garage floor hurting his knees, he tried again.

“Please, let me have something to cover up. Please. I want it.” Looking up at Catherine’s disapproving face he add, “I need… something.”

Catherine smiled down at her emasculated husband and pulled something out of a bag she had carried from the bedroom. It was a pad with what looked like a short but thick black cock stuck to it. Off the pad was two long straps ending in a buckle. As she reached for his face, Andy started to back away. Catherine slapped him hard across his check.

“Slut, you are mine and you’re going to wear this because I want you to.” Her look told Andy that she wouldn’t accept no for an answer. Gingerly he opened his mouth. Catherine quickly pushed the cock end into his mouth. The pad covered his mouth entirely. She reach around and buckled the gag around the back of his head. She reached down and kissed his forehead.

“Good gurl. Now I don’t have to hear you. You’re a slut and I want people to see how much of a whore you are. Understand?”

Andy had no choice but to nod his head.

“Good. Now get your pussy-ass in the car. You have a promise to keep.”


“Dude, what time is it?” Nathan asked for the hundredth time since they were dropped off.

“Two minutes since last time you asked.” Kevin was tired of the question. Although truth be told, the short time they had been here did seem like it has been dragging by. But after the action of the club he guessed anything would seem that way.

In reality they had been dropped off by the front gates of the company’s softball complex and given the key to the gate only about 10 minutes ago. Angie told them to lock the gate behind them and to go chill-out in the dugout as the main show was about to start. When they asked about Andy, all the women would say was that “he was busy getting the main act ready.” After the hot action of the club. all of the guys were horny as hell so they didn’t complain too much. All they really wanted was to get a chance to put their dicks in something hot and wet. They didn’t really want to do anything to put that in jeopardy.

At exactly 2:00 am, the flood light above home plate came on. The bright beam momentarily blinded the eight guys in the home team’s dugout. As their eyes became adjusted, they noticed their wives and girlfriends were standing in a row in front of them. From the control box, Andy’s wife could be seen walking towards everyone.

As she got to the line of women she called out, “Men! Have you had your asses kicked every year before this one in the by those jerks in sales?” After a moment’s silence, a single, bitter “yeah” echoed in the darkness. Catherine continued. “And did you work your asses off to make sure that this wouldn’t happen again?” A few more shouts of agreement could be heard this time, along with a call to break out the girl. They were getting into it. Catherine smiled. “And were you promised a gangbang if you got the job done?” The shouts grew bolder and louder. Time to reel them in. “And did you do it?” The response she got surprised her with its volume.

Once they calmed she continued. “As you may have heard, the original source of the party is unable to fulfill that promise. Mother nature is a bitch.” To that she heard some agreement, a few laughs and one “we don’t mind”. She ignored it. “So we’ve had to improvise. But don’t worry you will get your just rewards.” At that, all of the guys were clapping and cheering. Now that she had them worked up, she turned to her partners and gestured for them to move and revival the surprise.

The women were blocking the guy’s view of home base. As they moved aside the men could see that the plate was lit up under the spot light. Kneeling on home plate was a short haired brunette in a white lacy outfit. Her hands were cuffed behind her back and she had some kind of gag over her face. She wasn’t cute right in the face but her ass was hot. Wolf whistles and cheers greeted the unveiling as the guys charged the plate.

But as they approached the plate they began to notice something wasn’t quite right. John was the first one to put his finger on it. “Andy? Is that Andy?” As everyone got to home the comments came quick. From a few uncomfortable laughs to a whistle or two to a few angry questions about what kind of joke this was, the sentiments covered a wide range of emotions. Michael seemed to be the voice of those who were angry.

“This is bullshit! I ain’t some fucking faggot.” Michael threw his hat at Andy to drive his point home. “You have to be fucking kidding me.” Before he could explode any further, Catherine trotted over and got in his face. “Check that …right now.” Her tone shocked him long enough for her to make her point. “How would you be a faggot if you are the one doing the fucking? Use your head.”

“That’s not the point.” he said as he shook his head. After a moment of thought he continued. “Fuck this sick shit, I’m going home.” As Michael started to walk away, Sarah called out after her husband. “And how are you going to get home? I have the keys Mr. Not-A-Fag.” That got a few uncomfortable giggles.

“Well, come on and let’s get out here. You don’t want to be part of this!” Michael walked up and grabbed his wife’s arm. A cold stare from her had him drop his hand away as if she was on fire. She looked at her spouse and, in a voice loud enough that everyone could hear, said, “Who do you think shaved that little slut’s pussy-ass. I don’t do that for anyone unless I’m going to fuck them.” With that she kicked off her shoes, began to undo her belt and opening her fly. Michael’s face looked as if it got stuck between emotions. In shock he stammered, “But… but… but we haven’t talked about this.”

Sarah finished pulling off her pants. Around her waist was a new strap-on with a bright blue dildo that matched the IT’s team color. She locked eyes with Michael. “And when were you going to tell me about the gangbang?” The women rallied to her cause and began asking similar questions of their men. The anger from Micheal’s face gave way to fear. “But that’s different.” he said in a meek voice.

Sarah kissed her husband on the check and pointed to the dugout and said “Either your a team player or you can get your ass back to the dugout. Its your choice.” She turned her back on him and swaggered toward home plate. “Did you grab the lube Cat? I’ve got a hot little slut to bone.” That got a round of applause from the women.

Catherine was digging through the bag she had brought. She pulled out a black bottle and tossed it to Sarah in an easy arc. Next she pulled out a large box of condoms and threw it on the ground in front of the confused men. “Andy said you were all tested clean so I’m sure he won’t mind if you don’t feel like using it. But if you mind here you go. Now men,” Catherine stressed the term, grabbed her crotch, turned her head and spat on the ground. “I’ve got to go help my teammate fuck a slut.”


Andy’s wife was the first one up to bat. She rolled down his panties to just above his knees, the whole time talking about how she’s going to love sharing her ‘fucking slut’ with her teammates. While he never saw the dildo she wielded he quickly realized that it was huge. With no warm up she impaled him with one stroke. Thankfully she stopped and played with his cock until the pain went away and his sphincter grew accustom to the toy’s girth. After a few moments, Catherine began to make slow, gentle test strokes. After a few of these got a soft, moaning sound to escape from Andy’s throat she held nothing back. She fucked him hard and fast. There was no love, no gentle play, only raw animal passion. The strap-on was riding her clit in just the right way that she was sure she could come. Looking down at her husband’s stocking clad legs, all Catherine could think about was using her hurt to get off. After what felt like hours, but was actually closer to a couple minutes, Catherine came with a furious shout. She slapped her bitch’s ass and gave it one last hard thrust. She looked up and grinned at the other women. “Who wants sloppy seconds?” Eight hands rose at once, along with a new round of cheers and giggles. The gang bang had started

What the women lacked in experience they made up for it in pent up pain and frustration directed at their men. In short order a mix of sweat and lube ran down Andy’s thighs. His face had been pushed into the dirt, ruining his make-up. His stockings had runs and were torn at the knees. Between changing out people someone put a pair of catcher knee pads on him. He didn’t know who it was but they got his vote for sainthood.

As each woman dipped their bright blue dildos into his ass, a cheer went through the circle that had formed around him. They were not subtle with their words or their cocks. He was ‘their slut’, ‘their whore’, ‘their faggot’. It was humiliating and every time he thought he could take no more, someone would stroke his ‘clitty’ and he would quickly get a massive erection. This made him clinch his asshole hard and almost wish the dildos were bigger.

Between taking turns in Andy’s ass, the women would tease the guys watching. Asking them what the difference was between a woman’s ass and a sissy’s ass. They would kiss each other, stroke one another’s uniform covered breasts or cop a feel from the guys. Before even half a dozen women had made their way through the line, the guys could take no more.

Nathan was the first to break rank with his brethren. His joining the line was greeted by cheers, pats on the back and women pushing him to the front of the queue. Nathan knelt down behind his boss and started to undo his pants. Everyone got real quiet as he did. The pressure was to much for Nathan and he started to get up. Catherine knew that if that happened, the game would be up. She knelt behind the young man, whispered something in his ear, and reached around to continue undoing his pants. No one could hear what she whispered in his ear but when she fished out his penis it was quite erect. As she continued to whisper in his ear, she guided his small penis towards her husband’s gaping asshole. Just before he entered his first ‘sissy’ Nathan found his bravado. He patted Andy’s smooth ass and said loud enough for everyone to hear, “On my review last year, you said I needed to become more of a team player.” With that he entered his boss’ ass with his boss’ wife urging him on. Nathan stayed still for a moment just enjoying the feeling. With a giggle Nathan asked “So, how am I doing boss?” His answer was the largest round of applause of the night thus far.


This is the first in a series. Although there is no sex in this chapter it sets the scene for what is to come.

Finally I must say a big thank you must go to g1dnshwrgr1 for editing assistance with this story.

Please feel free to leave any comments etc.


I knew the routine inside out, but I was more nervous tonight than I could ever remember being before.

My parents had left 30 minutes earlier to go visit my Aunt for the weekend and my sister was abroad for a friend’s wedding and was due back for another 4 days; which meant for the duration of the weekend, I had the house to myself.

I had only recently turned 18 and this was the first time I was left home alone overnight. I had been planning this weekend for a while, but it still didn’t stop the nervous excitement I felt. Rather than the few short hours I grasped when I could, tonight I could be Sarah without the risk of family coming home unexpectedly.

The idea of the weekend had been my jacking-off fantasy ever since my parents announced they were going to visit my Aunt. At first they wanted me to go with them, but I knew my sister would also be away and it would give me the perfect opportunity to have some serious Sarah time. Ever since I started to cross-dress, it was an opportunity I had dreamt of and I wasn’t about to pass it up for the sake of visiting my Aunty. Hence I convinced my parents my time would be better spent if I stayed at home and spent the weekend studying. To be honest, I can’t believe how easily they accepted that idea, especially when all I could think of was the amount of fun I was planning.

I had read plenty of stories online about cross-dressers being home alone and knew I should give myself a bit of time before I started getting ready just in case my parents made an unexpected return for something they had forgotten. So here I was, 30 minutes after they left, eating a light meal as I figured the time it would take to eat and wash up would be more than ample.

After washing up, I jumped into the shower with a packet of disposable razors. I bought them on the pretence that I was sprouting facial hair and wanted to shave, in reality, the only things I needed to shave were my legs and my genitals as I didn’t seem to be the hairy type. I quickly lathered up my legs and got down to the act of shaving. At first it wasn’t too difficult but I have to admit I found my knees and ankles tricky to do and ended with a small cut on my ankle.

Ever since I found my Dad’s porn magazine, I had always wanted a small landing strip above my boy clitty, but as my pubic hair was soft and downy, it seemed easier just to remove the whole lot. I finished with my armpits just in case and after what must have been a solid hour I stepped out of the shower with the only visible hair on my body being my hair and eyebrows.

I quickly dried myself and rubbed some of my sister’s moisturiser in over my freshly-shaved areas. Wrapping myself in my sister’s white towelling robe, I headed off to her bedroom as I let the moisturiser absorb into my skin. My sister is a makeup junkie – she had everything you could ever need in all possible colours. Although she had taken quite a lot with her there was still large amount for me to play with. I had previously spent hours watching YouTube videos and practising how to apply makeup, but until now had never combined it with my dressing. My first port of call was her nail varnish.

Even though I knew my toes would not been seen, I have been dying to paint them, and like many cross-dressers the first colour I wanted was what I called “Slut Red”. I began to paint my toenails with the brightest shade of red I could find while I waited for the moisturiser to dry. Thirty minutes later, both my nails and my legs were completely dry. Even though it probably wasn’t the best job in the world, the sight of my painted nails started to make me go hard. If it wasn’t for wanting to see this through to the end I would have jacked-off right there, however, I knew there was a bigger goal ahead.

I returned my sister’s robe to the bathroom and headed for my Mother’s room and her lingerie drawer. Ever since I can remember, I would sneak into my Mother’s room when I had an opportunity and look through her lingerie. I was always drawn to her silk and satin underwear. I loved the feel and the touch of it against my skin. In the past, I would try on her underwear and would jack-off looking at myself in the mirror, but today jacking off would have to wait. I quickly selected the items I wanted and was relieved they were still there. After all, she might have taken them with her, but I guess stopping at my Aunt’s was no reason to take sexy underwear.

I lay the items out before me. I am slightly taller than my Mother but in other respects, we are similar in size. Well that’s one of the advantages of having no car and having to cycle everywhere. The items I selected were all black and were a combination of satin and lace. The bra was a full cup and made of satin. I slid the straps over my shoulders and fastened it. Next came a satin and lace basque. This was perhaps my favourite item of underwear my Mother has. It has satin panels front and back with lace connecting them on the sides, and four suspenders dangling from the bottom. I slid it over my head and down over my bra, fastening it at the back. Next, I put on the stockings, black and sheer. I slowly rolled each stocking up my leg. I had worn stockings before but I wasn’t prepared for the sensation of them sliding up my legs. My clitty went hard instantly.

Once my stockings were fastened, I immediately picked up the panties; black satin with lace edging. I always loved how these satin panties felt covering the cheeks of my ass. As I stepped into them and slid them into place, the caress of the material against my skin immediately made me produce some pre-cum. Usually this would be a sign to start jacking-off, and then remove the panties but tonight not only did I want to prolong the experience, I also wasn’t worried about staining them. As hard as my clitty was, I couldn’t yet tuck it away so I decided to go and apply my makeup and headed back to my sister’s room.

I knew the look I wanted to achieve with my makeup and after watching hours of YouTube and the practice I put in, I felt confident I could get the look I wanted. I started first with a little foundation and a little powder to make sure my skin looked flawless. I then set about highlighting my cheek bones and adding a little blush, just for the right effect. Next came some eye liner and then with a bit of shadow I started to create the smokey eye look I wanted. It took a couple of attempts but finally I was happy with what I saw.

Being very careful I added some mascara to my lashes to give the illusion of length, although I have been told my lashes are already quite long for a boy. Then it was on to my lips. As I had gone for a smokey eye look, I knew I would have been better off with a more natural lip colour, but I couldn’t resist a voluptuous red colour my sister had and began to apply using a brush. It felt like a painstaking lot of hours, but at last my makeup was finally done. I don’t think I would have won any awards but I didn’t think it looked too bad.

Given the amount of concentration it took to put on my makeup it had the desired effect on my boy clitty and it was now soft enough to tuck between my legs to give me a more feminine appearance. Once done, I headed across to my sister’s wardrobe to grab my dress for tonight.

My sister loved clothes and she had plenty of them. Every time she got paid at her weekend job, she seemed to come home with a new item or outfit. Her tastes ranged depending on what she was doing and her mood and she could go from slutty one minute to angelic and demure the next. She had slimmed down in the last year and most of her new stuff didn’t fit me, God knows I had tried most of it, but she still had quite a few items from when she was slightly larger – much to my relief.

As far as I know my sister had only ever worn the dress once, but I had worn it a few times and each time it ended with me jacking-off looking at my image in the mirror. I just knew this was the dress for me. It was archetypal little black dress. It finished just above my knee and had long sleeves. It was a ruched black and just wearing it made me feel as sexy as hell. I carefully slid it down over my head being careful not to smear my makeup and move it into place. Boy, did I feel sexy.

I quickly checked my makeup and then headed back to my Mother’s room to select some shoes. Although my sister had a better selection, she actually had bigger feet than me, (UK size 7 against my size 6) and although Mother’s feet were slightly smaller again (size 5) I had found with a taller heel, I could fit into them without any problem – especially when my feet were in stockings. Besides, Mother had the perfect pair to match my dress – a pair of black suede platform court shoes, with a 5-inch heel. They had a piece of gold at the top of the heel just to give them an understated but glam look. They were by far my favourite shoes of my Mother’s, and I would wear them at every opportunity.

Sliding them on to my stocking-clad feet always gave me a thrill and today was no different. My boy clitty twitched in my panties. Next came the jewellery. As I wanted to keep it simple, I selected just a gold chain and a pair gold bangles for my right arm.

The wig was the finishing touch.. My sister has a number of wigs, which she has bought for fancy dress and other parties. Most are outrageous like her giant blonde afro wig or her long-haired rainbow one; however, my fave is her long, red wig which she got to dress as Jessica Rabbit for last Halloween. I gave it a quick brush before fixing it into place and then brushing again. All done I couldn’t wait to look at myself in the mirror.

What I saw looking back at me was no longer the shy, slim, gawky teenage boy, but a redheaded vixen! Sexy and alluring, the type of girl I would be too afraid to speak to in real life. I know I’m biased but I looked hot and my boy clitty was getting hard just seeing my reflection. I was so tempted to get it out and start jacking off there and then but I wanted this experience to continue and besides tonight, I, no Sarah, was going to go out.

To be continued…


This is an erotic story about a transvestite who meets her male partner for an afternoon sex session. As such it contains transvestite and gay/bisexual elements as well as light bondage. If any of these offend you please stop reading now otherwise I hope you enjoy (leave a comment at the end if you do!)


I get off the bus and begin to walk around the corner to Andrew’s house. Underneath my guy clothes I have on stay-up flesh coloured stockings and the silk panties to match my purple chemise which I have in my bag along with my brown shoulder length wig and my latest acquisition from the shoe shop; a pair of beautiful white kitten heeled sling backs. They don’t have a huge heel (about 3 inches or so) but nothing makes me feel sexier than wearing any type of women’s shoe, especially with nylons.

I’ve been texting back and forth with Andrew all morning, asking how he is (horny), what he is up to (not a lot) and what he wants to do (fuck me!) so have arranged to come round for a long slow fuck, the kind of session that we normally enjoy. Andrew is my fuckbuddy, a guy I met on a swinging site one afternoon. He read my profile and got in touch with the hottest introduction I have ever heard, telling me how he wanted to fuck me and cum all over my face as I kneel before him. He has a real kinky side which matches what I like to get up to.

Having sat on the bus for half an hour to get to his place I am frankly having a hard time keeping my cock from exploding here and now in my jeans, because the effect of my nylon clad legs rubbing against the denim as well as the knowledge that I have on girls panties in a public place are driving me insane with lust. I reach his door and knock gently and he answers shortly after, letting me inside.

“Hey honey, how are you?” he says as I walk past him into the house. He is wearing jeans, boots, and a casual shirt and looks as if he has just been lounging about all day. He is older than me, mid-forties, with a slight beer belly and receding hair, and a couple of inches taller than me. In fact, he looks like your average middle aged guy, which is fine by me because that’s what I like about him. What I go for in guys isn’t particularly looks, it’s about their power (and he is strong) and their height (the couple of inches make all the difference) as it allows me to feel more feminine than I can with a girl. I also love dicks. I just can’t explain it, the feeling I get when I am presented with a well sized cock. I love girls but something makes me go weak at the knees and just want to gobble a penis the second I lay eyes on it. And Andrew has an especially nice one.

“I’m fine, but frankly I’m dying to get fucked so let me go get changed and I’ll be out in a minute!” I reply to him, quickly rushing through to the bathroom. He laughs as I pass him in a flurry.

“Fine then, I’ll make myself comfy.” he shouts in through the door. “Would you like a drink?”

“No, I’m fine, but don’t make yourself too comfy, just take off your boots. I want to enjoy unwrapping you myself,” I call through as I slip on my silk chemise and robe before fixing my wig on. As I continue to fix myself in the bathroom I look in the mirror preparing to put on makeup. I am just past thirty, and in reasonably good shape; not muscular, not skinny, but not fat enough that people would mention it. My face is reasonably young looking with good skin and my bright blue eyes below dark hair (both my own and the wigs I favour). I also have quite full lips which most people find attractive, as well as long eyelashes which are currently looking even longer as I tease them out with mascara before applying lipstick to my already lush lips.

Within a couple of minutes I am ready, and with a quick splash of perfume I slip on my new shoes (so sexy!) and unlock the door. Andrew is waiting there and quickly grabs me round the waist and pulls me in for a kiss. I moan as I reach my arms up around his neck, quickly smacking lips before opening wide and letting our tongues probe each other’s mouths. We stand like that for a full minute, kissing, licking, sucking each other’s tongues, as his hands begin to slide up and down the base of my back over the silky sheen of my chemise and then further down to my ass which he squeezes hard. I’m putty in his hands as he slowly fondles my ass, pulling the cheeks apart before squeezing them together, and I love the fresh feeling as my asshole is exposed each time. Then he moves my head to the side and begins to slowly kiss the side of my neck before moving up and lightly nibbling my ear.

I can feel my cock springing to life in my panties, and better yet I can feel his penis pushing against me through his jeans, like an angry animal raging against its bars. I slowly reach down and begin to rub it through the cloth, and slide one finger into the waistband of his jeans, teasing my way down before suddenly pulling away from his strong grip.

“Not so fast baby, I haven’t had a chance to fuck in a while and I don’t want it go quick. I have a surprise for you. Go sit down on one of the kitchen chairs for me a sec and I’ll come through.”

He sees the cheeky glint in my eye and walks into the kitchen while I slip back into the bathroom to my bag where I get out my surprise. I walk into the kitchen and hold them up.

“Oh you dirty girl, you want me to tie you up again?” he says, beginning to stand up. I quickly put one high heeled foot on his lap before he can raise himself, pressing down just strongly enough to stop him.

“Ah, ah, ah! This time I want to tie you up so I can have my wicked way with you. And if you’re really nice and learn your lesson well I’ll let you out again!”

He breaks into a wide grin and holds out his hands.

“Okay Jane, I’m game for this one. How do you want to do this?”

I walk first towards and then behind him, reaching for his hands and bringing them behind both his and the chairs back. I quickly fasten his hands with the Velcro cuffs and tie them to the chair. Then I lean down and begin to purr in his ear.

“I’ve been thinking about you all morning you fucker, and I’m almost ready to shoot just from the thoughts I’ve been having. Now I have you were I want you and I’m really going to enjoy it.”

As I have been speaking this into his ear close enough to feel the heat from my own breath radiating back to me I have also reached round and started to undo the buttons on his shirt. The top three are already done before I reach a hand in and start to fondle and tweak his nipple. At the same time I start to move my head down around his neck, breathing heavily and every so often planting a large, wet, sucky kiss on it.

Not only can I hear that he likes it with his contented sigh but I can feel it, both with his straining against his bonds as he tries to get into a really relaxing position and the fact that his cock looks as if it is going to break out of his jeans with no help at all from me.

I feel his fingers behind his back slowly stroking up and down my thighs as far as his cuffs will allow him. He knows I love my legs being stroked but this is not the time; I’m in control now. I tweak his nipple a little harder and step back.

“No Andrew, I’m afraid I’m in control my dear so you are not going to move unless I tell you to. Is that understood?”

“Oh yes Janey. Loud and clear.” he grins to me.

I reach round and give him a light slap on the cheek. Not hard enough to really hurt, but enough to register.

“You better shape up mister, I don’t think you’ve learned your lesson. And no talking for a while.”

Before he can say anything more I kneel down behind him and begin to lick his fingers before sucking on each one. My hands meanwhile have reached round and finished the last of his buttons on his shirt so I peel it back against the chair; I can’t get it off him completely without undoing the cuffs and I’m enjoying this too much to let him out until I’m ready.

I come round to the front of him and straddle him so we are face to face. The feel of his cock is hard against my ass cheeks as I put my arms around his neck.

“Good boy, I like you better when you behave. Now kiss me honey, let me know you like this.”

I lean in and kiss him fiercely, and he responds in kind. Our tongues slide in, out and across each other’s mouths in a mad dance and I begin to slide my hips back and forth, loving the way my silk panties help my slide across him. I pull my arms away from him and begin to massage his chest, stroking through the little spattering of hair he has there, rubbing up and down against his strong pecs and squeezing his tight shoulders.

“Tell me what a little fuckslut I am” I lean round and whisper into his ear.

“Oh Jane, you’re the kind of cumqueen that only comes once in a lifetime, a true lover of cock, a genuine whore” he replies. I kiss him once more, firmly, before beginning my descent.

I shift my ass backwards and off his lap without stopping my fondling and kneel down on my knees. I slowly begin to kiss around his chest, moving downwards ever closer to my present for the afternoon while he continues to tell me what a slut, , whore, bitch, and tart I am, how I would do anything for cock and double again for a cumload. I love when he talks dirty to me; his mind is extremely elaborate when he is in the right mood.

“You would get down on your knees for the football team you fucking slut and take every one of them, until you were swimming in their spunk if they would only let you dress in a skirt and heels for them. You would let it drip out of your mouth and ass and God knows where else and you wouldn’t even be ashamed or sorry, just ready for more.”

My hands start to undo his belt and then each button on his jeans with unyielding slowness, savouring each moment before I slip his jeans down around his ankles.

He is sitting there in nothing but his underwear now, with his eyes clothed, breathing heavily, and swearing continuously, waiting for me to begin the main event. My fingers brush against the front of his underwear and I feel a twitch. I settle my mouth over him and take long hot breaths across his cock.

“Oh fuck you little bitch, please just take me in your mouth, suck me until I cream your tranny face!”

My fingers deftly unfurl his underwear and he springs out at full mast. His 8 inches look me straight in the eye, glistening with the slightest hint of precum at the tip and his foreskin pulled tight all the way along. I wrap my hand around the shaft and begin to kiss and lick his balls while my other hand reaches down to explore my groin and slip into my silky panties to caress my own rock-hard erection.

“That’s it you little, slut, suck me dry, take it all in your mouth.”

My hand slides slowly up and down both our cocks, my grip firm and unyielding. My rod feels great but this is not the time for pleasuring me so I slide my hand out from my panties and raise it up to caress his balls as my mouth slides to the top of his shaft. I pause there, slowly sliding my tongue out to neatly flick the top of his bell end, my hands frozen in place for a second.

“Oh bitch, I need you to take me now, put it in your mouth, you know you want it you little whore. Suck Daddy’s dick!”

I lower my mouth on to him and hear his tirade stop for a moment as my lips envelop his head and my tongue flickers inside my mouth along the base of his shaft before moving down his shaft, sucking softly all the way. Once I have taken a firm 5 inches into my mouth I glide back up again and continue to bob my head up and down in his lap while one hand grips the base of his shaft and the other fingers dart across his testicles. The tirade starts up again.

“That’s it baby, suck Daddy’s rod. I want you to drain me all the way, suck every drop out of me.”

My head is still ducking into his lap, and the suction I am applying has started to increase. I begin to lightly moan in pleasure with his member still in my mouth so that it comes out more like a hum and feel him stiffen to attention in the chair. I continue to mouth him off, although I have changed my hand movements so that my mouth starts at the tip of his rod with my two thumbs and first fingers just below it on his tip, and then glide my mouth down as far as I can take it before sliding my fingers down a few extra inches to the base of his tool. I know from experience how much he loves this, as he told me it feels like I am taking him all in my mouth at once.

“Once this is through I am going to ream you until you cry honey and then jizz all over your pert little ass pussy!”

My rhythm picks up, speeding up incrementally but within half a minute I am nodding my face into him at a quick rate and I look up while doing it and meet his eye.

“That’s it slut, look me in the eye, let me know how much you like my fuckrod!”

I try to stop smiling as he abuses me verbally but it is too hot, too filthy, and I feel too glorious about it. I lift my mouth from him and jerk him furiously as I respond.

“That’s it Daddy, cum for me, I want your spunk all over my face and dripping down my chest. Give Mommy the pearl necklace she craves from your juicy rod. Give it to me!”

The last is almost screamed at him as I feel the tell-tale stiffening in his rod and a long satisfied moan escapes Andrews’s throat. I flatten my knees out to the side to bring my face lower and look his spitstick right in the eye before it spits out his thick, globby jelly at me, covering me from nose to chin and dripping down on to my chest. I wait until it seems almost finished and then lean in to kiss his tip and suck his member dry.

The profanities have stopped and he leans back in the chair, spent, while I mine him for the last drops of my effort. Once satisfied that he is empty I lean back and begin to clean myself with one finger, slowly drawing it across my face and chest to gather the spillage on my fingertip all the while looking him straight in the eye.

“Thank you for dessert baby, I love it”, I purr at him as I lick the end of my finger. A shiver escapes me at the thought of what I am doing, one of pure sexual ecstasy. I finish my cleaning and stand up before straddling him again, missing the hardness that I had to sit on previously but feeling my own solid phallus pressing him in the belly. Andrew grins at me.

“No, thank you for so efficiently draining me. Are you going to let me out so I can repay the favour?” he says before leaning up to kiss me deeply. We sit there for a minute, kissing and necking passionately before I stand up and untie him and then walk into the bedroom for him to follow me.

I lie back on the bed, stretching myself out so my arms are above my head dangling over the headboard and my long shaven stocking clad legs are stretching down the bed forever to finish in my beautiful heels. As he comes in he smiles and lifts a belt out form his drawer. I have been through this scenario with him more than a few times and don’t even act surprised anymore. He ties my hands to the bedpost, knowing from my position as I walked in that this was what I wanted. He then reaches for the cuffs I had used previously on his hands and puts one around each ankle but doesn’t link them just yet.

I lie on the bed in excitement as he asks what I want.

“Well,” I say as I part my legs and buck my hips at him suggestively,” this dirty girl has an ass pussy that needs filling. Is your cock ready to go another round yet?”

He smiles as he reaches into his bedside drawer and lifts out some rubbers.

“Not yet baby girl but now I have you where I want you I think it’ll be ready quite soon.”

He sits on the bed beside me and puts a finger to my lips to let me know he wants silence. In response I part my lips and lick his finger. He dips it into my mouth and I lick it slowly before closing my lips and sucking it. His other hand is stroking my legs from knee to thigh and back again slowly, inching ever closer to the so far unexplored region of my groin. My erection has been constant since I entered his house but now takes on a new intensity as his fingers brush over my silky trappings.

He removes the finger from my mouth and I lie back and close my eyes, not wanting to distract my sense of touch with anything as wasteful as vision. He slides my panties down over my erect tool and continues to trail them down my thighs, knees, calves and finally feet. He then takes off my shoes and kisses each of my delicately painted toenails before cuffing my legs together with the previously attached cuffs.

I feel him press something soft against my mouth and open my eyes. My panties are there in front of me and I smile as I open my lips and he forces them into my mouth, gagging me with my worn underwear. Then he moves down the bed to the end, and lifts my legs high into the air as I close my eyes once more.

My legs are vertical and I feel him press up against me, and heavens above he is hard again and I’m about to get dicked hard! I feel the odd wet warmth of lube being applied to my puckerhole and I try to relax, wanting him to enter me cleanly, not wanting any delay in the shafting I’ve been craving all day.

All at once I feel him press against me, knocking at my door so to speak and I moan through my panties as he enters me in one smooth movement. It’s only the tip so far but he firmly slides the rest of the way in until I feel his balls caress the base of my spine.

My body has arced in pure pleasure with the electric spasms that this has sent through me and he gives me a minute to settle back before sliding out almost to the tip and then pressing back in again. I can feel him pushing through my insides until he finally rests at that elusive place at the end of my tunnel, my prostate, and every time he drives through he stops for an endless moment at that point.

He picks up the pace, not noticeably at first but enough to leave me moaning at every advance, and soon he is going so fast that he is thrusting into me, there can be no other word as he penetrates deep into my rectum. He violates me with firm, undeniable strokes, and I relish the complete lack of power that I have in the situation, the total helplessness as he bears down on me and thrusts in and out of my ass relentlessly.

He is at top speed now, ploughing me from behind in an unstoppable manner, reaming me as I moan and writhe on the bed, but he is too strong, pinning me down effortlessly with the hands he has gripping my legs like a vice. I can feel the orgasm building within me, can almost feel the semen coursing through my body in order to arrive on time for that perfect moment, that escape.

All of a sudden I am there and I can feel my warm spunk pouring out over me in an unstoppable stream, pouring over my belly and chemise but he is still going strong, he isn’t being denied his second orgasm of the day and my ass is screaming with the pleasure of his strokes.

I feel him stiffen and scream out over me as he plunges deep to deliver his penultimate thrusts, and I lie there satisfied with his cock slowly pouring his load out within me as he relaxes against my legs. We remain there wordless for a full minute, content in our climaxes before he pulls out of me leaving what feels like a gaping cavity (and probably is!) and climbing off the bed.

“Good work Janey, good work,” he comments as he unties my bonds and then lies down beside me to hold and kiss me as we wait to see if we have the energy for another round.

It had been a year since I started dating Alison. We had gotten really’ close in the time that we had been together and we were by each other’s side practically all the time these days. I loved her so much and I knew she felt the same. Our sex life’ that had only gotten even better since I actually started giving her blowjobs.

A few times, she had brought up the whole’ anal sex thing trying to see if I were up for it, but it just still was not what I wanted to do.

I apologized so many times and she always told me it was alright’ but I could tell she was starting to get a little impatient. Not that I could blame her, it had after all been a year.

I had decided at one point to give it a shot and decided the best time to offer my ass to her would be on her 29th birthday. She was pretty’ depressed about being so close to the start of her 30s so I had wanted to do something to make her feel good. I decided not to say anything about it to her though just in case I were to chicken out at the last second, it would not leave her disappointed on her birthday; that’s how it happened to.

We had finished fucking each other’s brains out and I lay there frozen, trying to force myself to make the move that would let her know I wanted it, but nothing happened. I just could not make myself do it.

That was six months ago, and it was the last time I had even considered trying anal sex with her. Pretty soon, next month in fact me and Alison would be going with Christy and her boyfriend Ryan to Wildwood, New Jersey for the 4th of July week. It was going to be a lot of fun and I knew that Allie and I were both very excited to be going down there. Lately though, things had been a little difficult between the two of us and despite how excited we were for the trip next month we had not been talking much the last few days.

It was because of the whole’ anal sex thing; I knew she was getting annoyed, of course. A few weeks ago while we were taking a shower ago she tried to slip it in my ass without me noticing until the last second; surprise butt sex, the very definition.

I got pretty’ angry at her but got over it quickly, after all she was born a man and she did still have certain traits about her that reminded me of things that I would do or what other men would do with their girlfriends.

Unfortunately, for me though, she did not get over it like’ I had. Alison had kept it in for a while, but I had apparently pissed her off when I flipped out on her in the shower. Sure’ she was the one who was wrong for trying to just do it without asking, but I had really gotten really mad at her. I guess I could understand why she would be pissed off at me; but I really still just did not feel like I was up to it just yet.

Today was the first day we had seen each other in over a week, and it was only because we had class together.

We sat next to each other like always, with Jamie off to the left of me and I was surprised to find that Alison actually seemed kind’ of happy to see me. She was sitting real close to me and being rather affectionate with me. I guess that was a good thing,

Our class was over rather quickly, or so it seemed quick, and we made our way down to the cafeteria for lunch all three of us sitting together at our regular table after we got our food from the lunch line. We were talking about the lecture that our creative writing teacher had given us and when we were done eating lunch, Jamie said she was headed off to her next class leaving Alison and me to ourselves.

“So I guess your’ not mad at me anymore,” I said.

“No, I’m not. I think I over reacted honestly; I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I said smiling. “I’m not mad at all; just glad you’re okay now.”

Before I knew it, it was time for me to make my way to the next class. I gave her a kiss goodbye, grabbed my stuff and took off towards the building in which my next period was located. An hour and a half later, I was on my way downstairs to meet with Alison, our day was over and we were heading back to her apartment to hang out together for a few hours.

I met her outside in the student parking lot we got in the car and were on our way as soon as I shut the door.

We got to her apartment Christy and Ryan were not home which meant we had the place to ourselves. That did not mean we were going to just drop our pants and start fucking like rabbits, it was not of course all about the sex for us. Though I was feeling a little horny, but that was beside’s the point.

Instead, we decided just to sit at the kitchen table with a couple of beers and just talk and catch up; we were just happy to be with each other after having not spoken for the past week because of that stupid fight.

We started talking about the vacation next month and Alison told me that Ryan and Christy were planning on’ getting their own private motel room, and that me and her should consider doing the same thing. I definitely liked the idea there was no doubt there; a room all to us for a week straight sounded like a lot of fun. We started talking about the things that we were going to need to take down there with us. Alison started reading off a list of things that she had already written down that we would need.

“Beach stuff, blankets to sit on, on the sand. Swim trunks for you and a bikini for me. Food such as bread, milk, cheese and lunch meat and a couple bottles of soda, maybe even something to snack on.”

She smiled at me and winked and continued with the list, “Oh yeah and of course lube and condoms.

We’re almost out anyway.”

I laughed and so did she. We were indeed running out of both, though we did not use condoms very often. Sometimes I wondered why we used them at all, we were both clean and obviously, she could not get pregnant. Even if either of us did have anything, condoms would not protect us if we only used them every other time that we had sex.

I preferred fucking her in the ass without condoms to actually using one; it was better and it made more sense.

“So how much is a room down there for two people,” I asked.

“Well, it depends if we get our own room or not. It might cost more for a room with two beds for me, you and’ Jamie and’ whoever else is going. I think it’s something like $500 a night for a one bed room.”

“That would come up to about $3500.”

“Something like’ that.”

She sighed, “Then we’ll need money for the boardwalk and for when we go out to eat. This is actually going to cost a lot of money; at least for the income we have.”

I was starting to feel bad now, just thinking about it; I was unemployed, and Alison having only two classes at Community College now had taken up an actual job’ which meant she was bringing in money. While she was bringing in money, I was bringing in nothing because even with just two classes my time was consumed by homework and’ studies and all kinds of other stuff.

I never would have been able to handle school, homework, studying and a job all at the same time, and still be able to have time to see her it would drive me insane without question. It was too much stress, at least for me.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“For what,”

“I don’t have a lot of money. I wish I had more to bring with us.”

She sighed frustrated and took a swig of her beer, sitting it down on the table and shaking her head. I knew, even if she denied it, she was annoyed with the fact that she was going to have to pay for mostly all of’ the trip. I would be bringing a little bit of cash with me but only as much as I could afford to bring. I could not afford much at all really, just what I would have left over from my monthly check that I got from welfare.

“I don’t mean to be a bitch,” she said. I could feel an argument coming on and I was getting nervous of how bad this one would be. I sighed and leaned back in my chair waiting. “But you really should look into finding something.” There it was I knew it was coming and I had been dreading it the entire time.

She had been suggesting this for a while now, a few of my friends were as well and I wanted to do it but I just did not think I would be able to juggle all of those things at the same time.

“I can’t,” I said and she shook her head annoyed.

“I can’t do that all and pull it all off without losing my head; it’s too much stress on me.”

“Your’ kidding me Mike, you have to classes and plenty of time for a job.”

“Yeah, but with studies and homework and all that shit, if I had a job I wouldn’t have any time to see you.”

She stood up, walking to the trashcan to dispose of her empty beer bottle. She threw it in the can and turned around leaning against the counter behind her and giving me a look that said she thought I was full of shit.

“You know that’s not true,” she said. “You’d have plenty of time on the weekends and it would make it better for when we do see each other. Think how much it would for your self-esteem if you could contribute financially to this relationship more then you can now.”

“Okay good point,” I agreed. “But on the other hand, if I had a job I’d only be able to work a few hours and I wouldn’t be making a lot of money.”

“But it would be more then you have now,”

She was definitely making a good point, I just did not have the confidence in myself and I could tell it was really starting to piss her off. Not that I wanted to piss her off, I wanted to make her happy. I did agree I needed a job for more reasons than just one. I had bills of my own to pay and my mom and step-father’ were starting to crack down on me about paying rent now; and she was right, it did bother me that I did not always have money to do things for her or take her places or buy nice things for her.

“I’ll look for a job soon; I promise okay?”

I said it calmly, with no trace of irritation or anger towards her and she smiled weakly but not totally satisfied. There was something else on her mind to, and I was waiting for her to lean into that subject, whatever it may be.

“Have you given any thought to what I asked you last month?”

I tried to remember what she was talking about but it wasn’t’ coming to me, and I knew she was going to get even more pissed at me when she realized I did not remember whatever it was. It had been a long month with a lot of stuff going on and having to study a lot for a number of tests.

“You forgot didn’t you?” she asked.

I gave no reply, leaving it to her to put two and’ two together. She sighed, shaking her head and threw her hands up in the air.

“I’m sorry,” I insisted.

“Yeah, yeah I’m sure. I asked you a month ago if you would consider coming out to your mother and your step-father soon.”

Now I remembered the entire conversation; we had gone to see my parents and had dinner with them and my mother had made a remark about how long we’d’ been together. She talked about how happy we looked as a couple and asked if we thought we might get married and have kids at some point. Obviously, considering the fact that Alison did not have the right equipment for me to get her pregnant, the chances of us ever having kids were slim.

So Alison had felt like it was wrong for me to just say someday and have my mother’s hopes up about having a grandchild when in reality her future daughter-in-law could not even provide a grandson or granddaughter, because she had a penis instead of a vagina.

I knew she had been really’ upset about it, and that was when she had told me that we should sit down with his parents and tell them the truth about her.

Alison wanted my mother and step-father’ to know that their son was not dating an ordinary girl, but a girl who happened to have something a little extra in her pants.

It wasn’t that I thought my parents would disown me for being whatever I was, it was just that I had no idea how to bring it up to them; how do you tell your parents something like that? It’s’ not like’ I was going to say, “Mom, Jim I’m gay,” because I did not think this made me gay. Bisexual more than anything but I still wasn’t’ entirely sure about that either.

Mostly, I was concerned about my mother’s reaction to the fact that I was dating a transsexual woman meant that if we did have grandchildren they would not be biologically ours. They would not have our blood, or any of our features and that meant none of her blood or features’ either. The only chance of having kids we had was adoption, “I remember. I didn’t put too much thought into it yet though.”

“Why not,”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I just…I’m nervous.” She pushed herself off the counter, grabbed the chair and’ moved it next to me and sat down at my side. She put a hand on my shoulder to comfort me and gave me a kiss on the cheek, rubbing my back.

“It’s normal to be nervous about this kind of thing,”

“I’m sure it is; I just don’t know how to do it.”

“Just tell them. I will be there with you; just tell them ‘mom, Jim I need you to know that Allie is not your typical girl. She has a penis.”

She was trying to joke with me now in an attempt to make me laugh and it worked to, we both started laughing and I sighed, leaning over the table and burying my face in my hands.

“I don’t know Allie,” I said shaking my head. “I just don’t know if I can do it; they won’t disown me. I’m just…afraid.”

“What is there to be afraid of if your’ so convinced they won’t disown you?”

I wasn’t’ sure really, and I mean that I really had no idea why I was so damn afraid of telling them about her. They already knew her they already liked her a lot and they already thought we were a great couple; they were not judgmental people so it would not change those outlooks.

“I don’t know,”

“How about we go over there tomorrow night for dinner and tell them.”

I was getting annoyed now, she was being pushy about it and’ I know why she wanted to do it and it was a good reason its’ just my anxiety was getting the better of me. I pushed myself out from under the table and threw my beer bottle in the trashcan turning to face her and shaking my head.

“I’m not up for it,”

I walked out of the kitchen and she followed me close behind. I sat down on the couch and she stood with her arms crossed, staring down at me with confusion in her eyes.

“Not up for it; Mike, you know sooner or later your’ going to have to tell them no matter what. You can’t hide it forever!”

I sat there, listening to her but hardly even caring at this point. I knew she was right, she didn’t’ have to tell me but I just did not want to give a fuck about any of that. Why should I have to tell anyone about it; most of our friends already knew, was not that enough for the time being?

“Allie, look I just don’t want to do it.”

“Yeah and you don’t want to get a job either,” she spat.

I sighed angrily, got up from the couch and now I was going to go off. Now the fight was about to get real.

“I said I would look soon!”

“When is soon Mike,” she demanded. “A year from now, ten years from now or tomorrow morning, tomorrow morning would be the ideal time. I can’t’ pay for everything all the time for the rest of our lives. Do you want to be with me for the rest of our lives?”


“Then we both need to have jobs.”

I was really getting angry now and she knew it to, but I knew she was equally pissed off at me as I was at her. The fighting continued, going back and forth with neither side really winning, neither of us listening to the other. By this’ point I wanted to leave, I just wanted to go home and forget about this whole situation this whole conversation and not talk to her for another week or two. I could not run from my problems, but I was really’ sick of fighting.

“I do what I can,” I said. “I pay for shit whenever I have the chance. You don’t pay for everything on your own, so don’t even try to say that because it’s a load of bullshit.”

“No, that’s a load of bullshit and you know it; you pay for food from time to time yes but if we want our own place your shitty little welfare check is not going to help pay rent or utility bills Mike. This shit is for real, and so is’ you telling your parents about who I really am and what I really am. If you want to be with me for the rest of our lives you’ll do something.”

I had, had enough of this shit. I was done, and I was going to make it known by leaving and going back home; I’d’ rather be sitting in my room by myself then here arguing with my girlfriend about telling my parents that she was a transsexual. It wasn’t’ all about that, but I had meant it when I said I was going to look for a job real soon; when I did not know, but Alison was overreacting. Or’ maybe I was just being immature.

“You know what,” I said making my way towards the door. “You keep saying this shit; you keep thinking you pay for everything okay?”

“I do pay for everything and you know it,” she said following me to the door and I was getting really frustrated now.

“I pay for everything we do! I even paid for your lunch yesterday. Hey, I know maybe it should be you sucking my fucking cock and bending over like the little bitch that you are’ since I’m the one who brings in the money.”

That was the last thing I wanted to hear, I’d had enough, I stormed through the door and slammed it shut leaving her alone in her apartment. I wasn’t’ sure if we were even together anymore, but I was so pissed off that at the’ moment I really did not even give a shit.

Alison’s POV

“Hey, I know maybe it should be you sucking my fucking cock and bending over like the little bitch that you are’ since I’m the one who brings in the money.”

I was so fucking stupid for saying that, I knew exactly where that was going to take this argument next. Of course, I turned out to be wrong instead of it going that direction, Mike simply stormed out without saying a word but that was just as bad if not worse. I knew that lately he felt like I had been pressuring him to try having anal sex with me, and I knew I was starting to piss him off a lot.

I was afraid that having said what I said just now, he might turn that around on me later and use it’ against me and’ say I was trying to pressure him into letting me fuck him in the ass. Really, I just said it to be a smart ass.

I had really fucked up this time, true; I should not have said half the things I had said. Most of it was true though, I really did need him to look for a job because I wanted to get a place with him and I could not afford to do it if it was just me paying for everything by myself.

I don’t’ know why he was so afraid of doing what had to be done; I almost felt bad knowing he had such a weak self-esteem that he just kept doubting his ability to find employment.

Who knows how long we would go without talking now; I just hoped that he would call me later and we could work things out and get back to being a normal couple again. I hated arguing with Mike; it hurt too badly to fight with him.

Mike’s POV

Bullshit, absolute complete fucking bullshit; I was so pissed off that I nearly got hit by a car storming out the front door of the apartment complex and walking across the street. I flipped the driver off and yelled’ “fuck you,” even though I knew it was my fault and I should have been paying attention.

I did not care right now.

She was being such a fucking bitch and I was sick of it; mostly because I knew she was right. I wanted to be with her forever but she could not pay for everything on her own, I wanted a job and so I decided right now I was going to head out and start filling out applications at different places.

I had no issue doing this; I had to get over the fear of not being able to find employment sooner or’ later so why not start right now.

The other shit though, that was something I was not up to dealing with just yet. She wanted me to talk to my mom and step-dad, to tell them that she was actually a transsexual and I was all for the idea just now,

It was quickly coming up on Christmas time, almost a month since that day when Sarah came out to her parents only to be’ rewarded with their rejection. I had done my best to try and’ clean up the mess and make sure that Sarah was okay; she was anything but okay though. She had been a complete melt down at first, but we had gotten through it all so far, not without struggle, but we had gotten by.

The one thing that had me concerned was the fact that Sarah had not spoken about wanting to go full-time since before the incident with her parents. That would not mean much ordinarily, but she had not been dressing up very much lately either.

We’d’ had more sex with her dressed a guy in the last month then we had when we first got together and it wasn’t that I really absolutely minded it but I did miss seeing Bryan dressed up more frequently.

This was one of those moments, where I was sitting on the couch watching TV and in she, or rather at the moment he walked into the room and sat down on the couch next to me and smiled over at me.

“Hey,” he said seductively.

“Hi,” I replied smiling back at him.

He moved over towards me and readjusted himself so he was now sitting on my lap arms draped over my neck and leaned in close to kiss me on the lips. I kissed back and felt my cock starting to grow hard in my pants, begging for release and to bend him over and fuck his ass as hard as I could.

“Feeling a little horny, are we?”

“Maybe just a little,” he replied laughing.

“Well…I’m all for it, what do you want to do?” I asked.

He sighed and lay across me, head resting on the arm of the couch and I could see the outline of his cock in his underwear as he lay there.

I don’t know,” he said. “I think tonight I just want you to fuck my ass.”

“We’ll I’m game,” I said and he laughed. “Can I make a request though?”

“Sure…what’s that?”

I was hoping that he would not take offense to this, because I really didn’t mind fucking him when he wasn’t dressed up but it had been a couple of weeks since the last time I had seen “Sarah” and I was kind of starting to miss her just a little bit. I hoped he would at least try to understand,

“Would you mind dressing up?”

He smiled faintly and sat up scooting off my lap. I was becoming nervous that maybe I had indeed had the opposite effect on him, that maybe that was just something he really did not want to here.

“Never mind,” I said. “It’s okay, really.”

“No, it’s not that; I don’t mind. Give me a few minutes,”

I assumed that he really did not mind, because just before he got up to walk into our bedroom, Bryan leaned up and gave me a kiss on the lips and smiled at me as he started walking off towards the room.

I slid off the couch and stretched a little bit, before pulling off my t-shirt and tossing it to the floor. I followed my shirt by undoing my belt and dropping my pants around my ankles and last but not’ least I slid out of my boxers tossing them aside as well.

Just thinking about seeing Sarah again for the first time in almost a month had my cock reacting, hard as a rock already as I sat down on the couch tapping my fingers on the arm and waiting patiently.

Finally, I heard the bedroom door click open and out came Sarah, dressed up for the first time in two weeks and my cock stiffened even more if that were at all possible at this point. She was wearing a blonde curly wig with just the right amount of makeup and a pair of pink panties with the Playboy Bunny on the front.

“This good enough?” she asked seductively as she slowly approached me.

I could only nod my approval, as I sat there’ waiting for her to make her move and Sarah laughed at the look on my face. She stepped closer and slowly got down on her knees between my legs smiling innocently up at me.

“You want me to suck your cock?”

“Oh fuck yeah,”

“Mm…I miss the taste of your dick.”

I tensed up and moaned as she wrapped her warm wet lips around the head of my shaft and slowly worked her way all the way down to my balls until I could feel myself pressing against the back of her throat. She gagged and jumped, but quickly adjusted and began moving her head up and down taking my dick in and out of her mouth.

Spit ran down the length and she stopped sucking, gasping for air and started stroking me for a few moments.

I thrust my hips forward and sighed as she closed her mouth around me once more and resumed the sloppy blowjob that I had been enjoying moments before.

Between the sucking and the stroking, I could slowly feel myself getting closer to the point where I knew she was trying to take me. That old familiar pressure was beginning to build up in my balls and I was starting to become a little more vocal about how good this felt. I started moaning a little louder and running my hands through her blonde curly hair,

I dug my nails into the couch cushion getting ready to blow my load.

“Shit…I’m going to cum,”

She groaned with my cock still in her mouth and started playing with my balls and bobbing her head much faster and I could feel my head starting to swell up in her throat. Finally, I hit that point and with a loud moan followed by a grunt I exploded, firing my’ cum straight down her throat. She choked in surprise, but swallowed it all as she always did and moaned as she savored the taste and started to lick the head of my shaft clean.

She looked up at me and smiled, trying to regain her oxygen as she slid up and kissed me on the lips. I could taste myself on her breath and I kissed her more passionately, my cock beginning to deflate but I still found myself wanting more from her.

“That was great,” I sighed.

“I’m glad you enjoyed.”

I smiled at her and pulled her up onto my lap, then tossed her onto the couch and grabbed hold of her cock and started stroking it.

“You know,” I said. “I know you said you wanted to be the one to get dominated…but it didn’t quite go that way. I wouldn’t mind returning the favor though,”

She laughed as I moved my head down between her legs and ran my tongue up and down the length of her cock before sealing my lips around her shaft.

She sighed and leaned her head back, moaning as I started sucking her cock, furiously stroking, licking and sucking. Just as we were both’ getting into it’ the phone rang and I heard her sigh in frustration.

I released her cock from my mouth and reached for the phone on the lamp table to check the caller ID. I did not recognize the number though.

“I don’t know who this is,”

She reached for me to hand her the phone and’ I did and she looked closely at the ID. I noticed the look on her face, one of shock mixed in with fear and uncertainty.

“Who is it; do you know the number?”

“It’s my parents…”

What the’ hell did they want, I thought. To cause’ more trouble for the two of us. Hadn’t’ they already complicated things enough as it was by rejecting her and causing her so much pain this past month? I knew if she answered the phone and they gave her a hard time, I would not be able to bite my tongue. I would end up taking the phone away from her and flipping out on the person on the other end of the line, whether it be’ her mother or her father.

She pressed the talk button and lifted the phone up to her ear.

“Hello…h-hi mom,”

I waited, listening closely to the conversation as they talked. If I leaned in close enough I could almost hear what her mother was saying on the other end of the phone, not to clearly, but I could make out certain words.

At one point though, Sarah got up off the couch sighing and walked’ naked across the room still talking on the phone. I sat back on the furniture and admired the view of her ass as it swayed from left to right as she walked into the kitchen and leaned against the counter by the sink.

“No mom…no, I don’t think it’s a good idea. Mom…I don’t’ want to cause any more drama with dad and I know deep down inside you do not really want to see me either. No, I am sorry I just…I’ll think about it okay?”

A few seconds later, she hung up the phone but did not move from her spot by the counter right away. She shook her head and walked back into the living room setting the phone back down on the lamp table and dropping down onto the couch next to me again.

Whatever they had been talking about, I knew it was more than likely something that she had not wanted to talk about.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“My mom wants me to come to dinner tonight,”

Had I just heard what she said right or was I hearing wrong? After all that drama and’ bullshit the other month and the way her father reacted and all of that crap, now they wanted her to come to dinner? Why; so they could yell at her some more?

Or’ maybe they had come to their damn senses and gotten over it all.

I could hope right. Actually, the more I started thinking about it the more I started to wonder if that were actually the case. Who knows, it wasn’t’ impossible that one of the two had decided to try and’ cope with their sons announcement and tried to convince the other to do the same.

Maybe this whole dinner idea was their way of wanting to make up for it or something.

“Why don’t you go,” I suggested. She looked over at me and I could see the discomfort in her eyes; I almost regretted saying it but I pushed that away. I mean hell if they really did want to apologize then Sarah deserved to hear their apology. Maybe it would even help lift her out of this depression,

“I don’t really think I want to.”

“Why not; it can’t turn out that bad. Talk to me,”

She shook her head and slid forward sitting on the edge of the couch.

I don’t know,” she whispered. “I’m just not sure what it’s all about; she says they just want to have dinner, but my father is the most homophobic person I have ever known. I can’t’ imagine him “getting over it” like she hinted that he has. Something just doesn’t smell right to me,”

“Doesn’t smell right,” I laughed.

She even laughed once she realized how funny that actually sounded and she moved closer to me, leaning her head against my shoulder.

“I’m being serious here you know…what if their tricking me, what if when I get there they try and chop my head off and shove me in a trash bag or something.”

I couldn’t’ help but laugh at that but I could tell she was joking around and she gave me a kiss on the cheek.

“I wouldn’t let that happen,” I said pulling her into my arms and trying to get myself to stop laughing. She sighed, weighing it over for a few moments.

“Alright, fine,” she said. “I’ll go.”

“You want me to come with you?”

She stood up and ran a hand through her hair before throwing her arms into the air. “No,” she said.

“I have to face this on my own; can’t run forever.”

I did feel a little uneasy about her going by herself, what if they were planning to start more pointless’ drama. I would want to be there in case things got out of hand like’ they had the last time I could protect her. At the same time though, I understood where she was coming from, I admired her bravery. She wanted to stand up to her fears and’ she wanted to do it alone and I couldn’t’ stand in the way of something like that.

That would be wrong of me,

A couple of hours went by; we didn’t’ finish what we had started earlier because the mood was pretty much ruined by her confusion and frustration with her parents and their unexpected request. It didn’t’ bother me, there would be plenty of time to finish up later when she got home and if she were already in a good mood when she got in that would make it even better.

Around 4:00, Sarah took a shower and got out to start getting dressed. She decided to go dressed up to make a point to her parents that she was serious about this decision and that they would not be able to talk her out of what she wanted for her life.

She wore a pair of tight jeans that showed off her ass quite well and a low cut white t-shirt that left her belly exposed to the eyes. She left the apartment around 5:15 and I was’ left to sit around and wait anxiously for her return, hoping that nothing went wrong while she was gone.

I was in for a shock; I expected something bad to happen, but not anywhere near as bad as how it actually turned out to be.

Time ticked by painfully slow and around 9:00′ I started to get a little worried. Sarah said she would be home by 8:00 that her parents usually had dinner around six and that she planned on’ leaving as soon as they were’ done eating. I tried calling her, but it just kept ringing and ringing. I tried a second time only to receive the same result, and no difference on the third attempt.

It was the fourth time that I called, that I received a different result and not one that made me feel any better. Instead of ringing off the hook, it did not ring at all and switched me straight over to the voicemail system. That was a definite bad sign in my opinion and I was starting to pace the floors of the apartment feeling very uneasy at this point.

I kept trying to call her and time kept on ticking by until it was nearly midnight and I was by now one hundred percent positive that something was wrong here.

Finally, just as I was about to try and reach her one last time before heading out to look for her, the apartment door opened and she stumbled in looking rather drunk. She stumbled across the floor and I moved towards her quickly, realizing that she was about to fall the way she was walking so carelessly.

Sure enough’ she tripped, falling right into my arms and she started laughing hysterically. I could smell cigarettes and booze all over her and I knew she had probably ended up going to a bar.

I led Sarah over to the couch and carefully let her drop down onto the cushion she was still laughing and babbling on about something to do with some cat that ran out in front of the car or something.

I could hardly understand a word she was saying, she always was the type of person to just rant when she was really’ drunk.

I sat down next to the couch and ran a hand through my hair. I had gotten her settled in now, but I had no idea why she had gone off to the bar and gotten so messed up in the first place.

“Sarah…what happened,” I asked outright.

“What happened? Ha hah well nothing reeally happened,” she laughed trying to sit up but she fell right back against the couch again.

“Seriously, tell me.”

Her laughter faded away and she groaned staring up at the ceiling.

“Those fuckers tried to trick me,”

“Trick you?”

“They wanted to send me to some stupid fucking gay camp or some shit. Can’t do that; I’m over the age of eighteen and shit,”

I sighed, burying my face in my hands; I should have known. Sarah had said before she left that she felt like something wasn’t’ right about the situation, that was why I offered to go with her in the first place but she had said no. I should have insisted on it, no, I should have just gone and not bothered arguing about it with her.

The rest was left to my imagination; I figured that they had probably gotten into a huge argument over it which led to her storming out of their house and going straight to a bar where she had been the last few hours drinking her miserable ass off.

“Dan,” she mumbled as I went to the kitchen to get her a glass of water. I walked back over to her and sat down, helping her sit up and lifting the glass up to her lips so she could get a sip of the liquid.

“Do you love me,” she asked.

“Of course I do.”

“How much do you love me?”

I stopped what I was doing, smiled and leaned in to kiss her on the forehead. I helped her lay back and rest her head against the pillow and ran my hand through her blonde hair in a comforting manner.

“More then you’ll ever know,”

She blinked, bit her quivering lower lip and sighed heavily.

“If you love me then…take me away from this fucking place,”

What was’ she talking about, I thought. Take her away from this place. What place exactly did she mean; it wasn’t’ like we were teenagers, and she was living with her parents asking me to help her run away. We lived on our own in our own apartment, we didn’t’ have to run away just because of her mother and father and their homophobic Christian views on our lifestyle.

“Take you away from what place Sarah,”

“Here…this fucking city. I hate it here; let’s move and go someplace else.”

Well, now that she explained it, it did not sound as bad as it had; she didn’t’ sound so childish when she actually said it in less of a drunk whiny manner.

Moving away didn’t’ sound so bad either really; I hated this place as badly as she apparently did and I knew by now her entire family probably knew because of her parents. If they were anything like her mother and father, they would probably start harassing them and doing everything in their power to make her feel like she was completely’ worthless, some kind of a monster.

I had heard about situations like this where some transsexuals coming out to their families end up having to leave their city and go somewhere else for’ the purpose of avoiding the harassment and mental torture inflicted by their own family and friends.

They had to start all over and build brand new lives and try their best to forget about the past; I hadn’t’ thought Sarah would have to do that though, I hadn’t wanted her to have to do that at all.


aybe though, it just might be for the best; maybe we should leave.

Despite my thinking, I was aware of her hand rubbing against my cock through the fabric of my pants and I could feel my penis beginning to get hard from her touch. She pulled me off the chair and onto the couch with her and I laughed slightly as she started to undo my pants and freed’ my cock from its restraints; I moaned as she wrapped her lips around me and started sucking furiously.

It had gone from being a moment of seriousness and contemplation to a moment of drunken sex, and had this been just anyone I would probably be trying to get out of this situation. I knew that Sarah did not mind being’ fucked while she was drunk though, she had made that a point in the past.

So’ I leaned over her, shoving my cock all the way down her throat and started practically skull fucking her. The gagging and slurping noises that she made turned me on even more and I could feel myself starting to get close.

She ran her hands up and down my ass and slapped one of my cheeks before moving her hand between them and started running her index finger over my ass crack. I felt her finger pop into my asshole and she slid it all the way in and began massaging my prostate gland, earning a moan from me.

She sucked my cock while continuing to stimulate my prostate until I suddenly gasped and practically cried out in pleasure, hunching over her and gripping the arm of the couch. My entire body started shaking as I shot off at least several large shots of cum, straight down her throat and she took it all.

She gasped for air as I pulled my once more flaccid dick from between her lips and she pushed me onto my back. She straddled me and lifted my legs up over my shoulders, sliding back a little and I jumped and groaned as her tongue started lashing out against my anus.

She was giving me a rim job now, lubing my asshole up nice and good with her saliva while running her hands up my stomach and chest to massage my nipples. After about a minute of licking my asshole, she pushed herself up and leaned into me, I could feel her hard cock pressing against my entrance and I slid forward some welcoming her erection.

She got the hint, and wasting no more time, Sarah thrust right into my tight asshole all the way to her balls. I grunted, arching my back as she pinned me down to the couch by my arms and started thrusting in and out. Harder and harder, she pounded my ass, the couch creaking underneath of us and her hips slapping’ against me.

I woke the next morning with Lauren still wrapped in my arms under the blankets, our warm bodies pressed together. Memories of our first time together from the night before came rushing back; it was no longer just a fantasy of mine. Now it was reality, now I really was more than just a friend of Laurens. It felt good to be able to say that though, because I had wanted this for a while now and it’ also stood as proof that my days with Jennifer were officially in the past.

Lauren groaned and shifted in my arms and I held her closer not wanting to let go, but I knew in a few minutes she was going to wake up and we would have to start our day at some point. Slowly, she opened her eyes and smiled sleepily up at me then leaned in and gave me a kiss. “Morning,” she muttered.

“Morning; you still seem really tired.”

“Mmm…I guess I’ kind of am. Last night was…fun,”

I could tell the details were a little hazy to her as they had been for me at first but she continued smiling and I knew it was okay.

I noticed the dark bruise under her right eye and instantly remembered that she had come home from her date last night rather upset and had explained to me that the guy’ she had gone out with pretty much assaulted her. She had also told me about her history with her ex-boyfriend Marc and’ how he used to abuse her as well. I felt the sting of anger as I thought about the guy’ she went out with last night and how he had done this to her; if I had only been there I would have torn him to pieces.

I kissed the bruise and she flinched but relaxed and I continued to hold her.

“How about that trip down the park,” she asked. I laughed remembering that as we had been drifting off she suggested we take our bikes down the park today.

“Sounds good to me,” I replied. “Guess we should take a shower.”

“Probably, or we could wait; we’ll be all sweaty when we come back from the park.”

She sat up and the blankets slid off’ of her as she rolled out of bed and stretched, turning around to smile down at me. I smiled at the sight of her cock dangling between her legs and felt my own beginning to stiffen underneath the sheets. I got out of bed as she started walking towards the bathroom and followed her through the door as she grabbed her toothbrush and turned on the warm water in the sink.

I wrapped my arms around her, my cock pressing up against her ass and she laughed as I ran my hands down her thighs and moved my right hand over her penis and started gently stroking. I kissed her neck and she groaned softly and leaned her head back; I could feel her cock stiffening in my hand.

“Now, now,” she whispered. “There’s plenty of time for you to experiment after we get done down at the park,” she moaned again.

I wasn’t’ hearing it though, I was still aroused and as long as she did not show any signs of serious protest I wasn’t going to back down that easily. She set her toothbrush back down on the sink, but forgot to shut the water off in the process; she turned around to face me and our lips connected in a passionate kiss.

Our tongues entwined we started caressing each other’s bodies.

As she kissed me she leaned back to shut off the sink and our lips parted. I slid down onto my knees and started kissing her inner thighs while stroking her cock, which was fully erect at this point. I leaned in close and wrapped my lips around her, moving down until I had taken her entire length all the way.

I amazed even myself at how well I seemed to be doing as I started bobbing my head, her hot cock sliding in and out of my throat and her warm balls pressing up against my chin. I grabbed her by the ass and pulled her deeper into my mouth and she groaned as her head began to swell.

Before I knew it, she started calling out my name, gasping and moaning in pleasure and I felt a stream of hot sticky cum shoot down my throat. I took it all and swallowed every drop but started choking a little; she was Cumming so much and it was a bit hard to keep up with her.

When she finally stopped, she sighed in relief and I pulled her cock from my mouth and stood up to kiss her again.

“Someone’s becoming a real cock sucker,” she said and we both laughed. She kissed me again and grabbed hold of my own dick, which was now hard as a rock and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“Now it’s your turn,”

She turned around and leaned over the sink and I got the point right away. I grabbed hold of her hips and pushed my cock against her asshole, which was still a bit loose from when I had fucked her the previous night. I slid in without much difficulty and she moaned as I started thrusting slowly at first.

As she gripped the sides of the sink I started’ fucking her harder and faster and we both started breathing heavier as we grew closer to our orgasms. I came first, delivering a few more of my strongest thrusts driving into her and burying myself balls deep in her ass. I exploded, pumping my’ cum deep into her rectum and she groaned as she started to shoot her own load in the sink. Laughing as we both recovered from our orgasms, she turned the sink on again and washed her semen down the drain as I pulled out of her and sat down on the toilet seat to catch my breath.

“Morning sex,” she whispered. “It’s always so much fun.”

“You can say that again,” I agreed.

When all was said and’ done, we cleaned up, got dressed, grabbed our bikes and made our way down to the park. I felt refreshed and relieved from our morning session together but Lauren was still giving me seductive glances as we rode our bikes; I had the feeling she was still very aroused. As we rode further down the bike path deeper into Pennypack woods, I started thinking about everything that had happened in the past couple of days.

It started with the big fight with Jennifer, then I left and moved in with Lauren and only the next night we hooked up and now here we were riding our bikes through the park as though everything were completely normal.

Not that it wasn’t normal; but I think at this point maybe it was starting to finally dawn on me that I had crossed a line, so to speak as Lauren warned me. I had spent time fantasizing about sex with her even though I knew she was a transsexual; but those were fantasies and this was real.

I could not help but think to myself, what did this mean for me? Was I gay; was I anything less than a straight heterosexual male now that I had hooked up with a girl who not only had a dick but she happened to have a bigger dick then I had? It was all so fucking weird; but then I remembered why I had allowed any of this to happen in’ the first place…I was attracted to her,

In the end, you can’t run from who you are attracted to because there just is no running from who you really are; if this is what I’m interested in then that’s just how it is, it doesn’t matter what it makes me.

I realized then that I just did not care; I loved Lauren, she had become my best friend since we first met and now she was my best friend and my lover at the same time. Being able to say the person you are in love with is also you’re’ best friend is so rare these days, I knew better then to ignore the call.

About an hour into our run, Lauren pulled her bike over to the side of the path and after putting’ the breaks’ on she jumped off and leaned it against a tree. I came to a stop as well and followed her confused as she made her way down into the woods away from the path. What the’ hell was she doing, I wondered as I sped up trying not to lose her in the process.

When I caught up to her, I realized we were now standing alongside Pennypack Creek and it was a really’ beautiful spot she had picked. I laughed realizing what she had been doing this whole time. She turned and smiled at me motioning for me to step closer to her and as I did’ we embraced each other and shared a kiss.

“So what’s the plan here,” I asked.

“Nothing special; I just thought we could sit by the creek and relax for a while. Its’ really a nice day out and this is a nice spot. What do you think?”

“I like the idea,” I said as we both sat down together. It was indeed a beautiful day out today, not to hot and not to cold either, just perfect.

“So,” she said suddenly. “Anything you want to talk about?”

I shook my head slowly, “Nothing in particular; why, what’s up?”

“Well it’s just that; you’ve taken a huge step in the last couple of days. Jumping from a relationship with a genetic girl to a relationship with a transsexual; I would understand if you were a bit confused or had any questions you wanted to ask.”

I was a bit surprised she was bringing this up, especially when it had just been on my mind no more than a few minutes ago. I was hoping she did not think I was going to change my mind about being with her; because that was far from the truth if she were thinking that way.

“I don’t know; it’s not a big deal to me. I was a bit confused at first obviously, but I’m over it; I know that I love you and that’s all that matters.”

She blushed and then laid back so that her head was on my lap and she was smiling up at me. The way the sun shone on her face made her beauty really stand out and I smiled back at her.

“I do have one question myself,” she said. “Are you really okay with…you know. Doing certain things with my manly parts down there?”

“I don’t think that’s a big deal,” I laughed.

“Obviously if it were I never would have done what I did last night and this morning, right?”

“I know; I’m just not use to that. No one’s ever really been okay with giving me pleasure, they always just wanted me to give them pleasure and that was that.”

“Well,” I replied. “That’s not how I am; it works both ways. Which brings up one thing I am thinking about…do you…do you want to um…you know,”

I gave her a certain look, trying to tell her what I was getting at without actually saying it but it did not seem to be working. “What,” she asked sounding rather confused and I sighed and looked up at the sky. I cleared my throat a little trying to think of how to say it without sounding weird.

“Well I mean…it’s just that I gave you oral sex. And’ then I fucked you in the ass; I was wondering if you know…if you want to-”

She started laughing, “Stick it in your bum?” I could not help but crack up realizing she had remembered me telling her about Jen’s words. We had made a real joke out of that incident when Jennifer had used the exact words “she wants to stick it in your bum,”

“Yeah, that’s one way of putting it,” I said.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I never met anyone willing to let me do that to them either.”

“Well…is it something you want?”

She seemed to be thinking and’ I felt my stomach doing turns and flips as I waited for her to give me an answer; what if she did want to do something like that. I wasn’t’ entirely against the idea or anything, I just worried about whether or not it was going to hurt, whether or not I would even be able to take her size like that.

“I don’t want to make you do anything you don’t want to do,” she said finally.

“Well I mean…I wouldn’t mind trying. I’m just concerned about pain,”

“It always hurts the first time,” she said. “But’ that’s why it helps to have someone who is willing to be patient and gentle and not forceful.”

“Well I guess I’m lucky to have you,” I replied.

She smiled and reached up, running her hand through my hair.

“I love you,” she said softly. “But you don’t have to do this to make me happy. I want it yes, but only if you do too.”

I sighed, weighing it over in my mind. I had a lot of trust in her for sure, but I was extremely nervous about the idea,

I decided though that I did want to see what it felt like. I wanted to see if she could hit my prostate gland just the right way, just like’ I had done to her the night before. I recalled how much she had loved it when I fucked her, how intense her orgasm had been and I wondered if it were possible for me to achieve something that felt that good as well. If it really felt as good as she made it seem like it did, there was no question I wanted to experience it myself.

“I want to try it,” I said before I even realized the words left my mouth.

“You’re sure,”

“Yeah…I think I’m pretty sure.”

“Okay then. When,”

I hesitated for a moment, then’ looked around at our surroundings; we were in an area where it would be pretty’ hard to see from the main path. Of course’ our bikes were still’ parked up by the tree but we could drag them down here with us if we wanted. The only real concern would be the other path on the opposite side of the creek, but we could always move to another area further down where there were trees blocking the view.

“How about now,” I said.

“Now; like right here? Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I mean if it’s okay with you.”

She smiled seductively, “Someone’s got a kinky side.”

She stood up, reached down and helped me up to my feet leading me down the sand bank we were on to an area where we could duck almost completely out of sight from joggers and bikers. She pushed me up against the tree behind me and kissed me forcefully, tongue sliding into my mouth and hands exploring every curve of my body through the fabric of my clothes.

I groaned, kissing her back, both of our cocks throbbing in our pants as we got each other nice and worked up for what was to come. She slid’ her sweatpants down along with her panties, her erect penis popping free and motioned for me to get down on my knees. I obeyed and went to work sucking her cock and playing with her balls at the same time. She instructed me to remove my own pants and I did as she asked before continuing my oral attention to her cock.

While I did, she slid’ her hand down my back to my ass and started lightly tracing her fingers over my virgin asshole.

When she felt satisfied with my blowjob’ she told me to stop and stand up and face the tree. I leaned against the tree and she got up behind me running her hands up and down my chest and over my hips. I could feel her cock, nice and wet from my mouth, pressing up against my asshole and I braced myself expecting her to push in to me right then and’ there. But’ she wasn’t’ ready just yet I realized, as she dropped down to her knees behind me and I felt something wet and warm against my hole.

I quickly noticed it was her tongue; she was giving me a rim job, something I was definitely new to but I had to admit it felt pretty’ good, As she licked my asshole, I also felt her trying to work one of her fingers into me and I was a bit shocked at how easily it slid in without much effort. It was obvious that the point of the rim job was to lube me up since we were out in the park and did not have any real form of lubrication to use.

Better something then absolutely’ nothing I figured,

After a few minutes of finger fucking and licking my ass, Lauren finally stood up and kissed me on the neck. I sighed as she pressed her cock against my hole again and wrapped her arms around me in a soothing comforting way.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yeah,” I replied. “Just be gentle okay?”

“You have my word.”

Then I felt it, her big mushroom head pushing into me, parting my hole and easing its way deep into my ass. She was gentle and slow at first just as she had promised me she would be, and I bit my lip trying to grin and bear the pain. It was a sort of burning sensation, quite intense, but not too much that I could not handle. I gripped the sides of the tree, still biting my lip as she continued pushing her dick into me, inch by inch until I could feel her hips against me and I knew she was all the way in.

“You okay?” she asked me, sounding very concerned.

“Yeah…I’ll be okay,”

She waited a few seconds for me to adjust and then started to pull about halfway out of me. When she pulled halfway out, she thrust right back in and I jumped in surprise. She froze and waited for me to give her a sign that I was okay. I took a deep breath and told her to continue and so she did, She started thrusting a little faster and harder now and the more time that passed the more’ I noticed the pain beginning to subside. As she picked up the pace, I could feel a strange pressure in my cock, which oddly enough wasn’t’ even erect at the’ moment.

There was a burning in the tip that I did’ not really know what to make of, but it felt strangely good to my own shock.

When she realized I was starting to feel pleasure, she let down the restraints and started really getting into the routine of pounding me with really hard and long strokes. The sound of flesh smacking flesh was easy to be heard and I worried that someone up on the main path might overhear and come investigating; I did my best to put those thoughts aside though.

Soon enough we were really going at it, both of us making noise as she fucked the hell out of me and I loved it; it felt incredible. The way her dick slid in and out of my ass, rubbing up against what I could only assume was my prostate gland, it was the most intense feeling I had ever experienced. Sex had never been this good with anyone I had ever been with in the past,

Her thrusting was becoming more intense now and there was a slight hint of pain in my rectum, but I was able to put up with it; it still felt really’ good. I could feel her cock starting to swell up, hear her breathing becoming heavier and I knew she was getting close; any moment now she was going to cum.

I decided to try something; I tightened my rectal muscles around her cock to increase the pleasure and it seemed to work. Lauren was having trouble keeping quiet as she started whispering my name in my ear and finally she buried herself inside of me. With a grunt, she began pumping me full of her cum like’ a car being pumped full of gas.

She buried her face in the crook of my neck and moaned, biting me and licking as she emptied her balls completely. When it was over, she pulled out and sighed in relief; my asshole felt so empty now which was a strange feeling to say the least but I felt as though I weren’t’ entirely satisfied. My cock was still quite hard, leaking pre-cum and I knew I still needed to get off.

I turned around and she kissed me on the lips before getting down on her knees and wrapping her warm wet lips around my dick, taking me deep to the back of her throat. I groaned, leaning my head back against the tree; this was all it would take, I knew, for me to reach that feeling of pleasure I had been waiting for. I almost felt disappointed though, even as I started to cum shooting down her throat; I had wanted it to happen while she had been fucking me in the ass.

I had wanted to achieve the same sort of mind blowing, body trembling orgasm that I had given her the night before.

That was not the case though, unfortunately, When I had finished and she had swallowed every drop, she came back up and kissed me on the chest, licking and sucking my nipples which were rather sensitive now’ then kissed me on the lips and I could taste my own cum on her breath as she did.

“That felt great,” she said leaning her head against my chest.

“Yeah…it really did,” I agreed.

We fixed ourselves up and’ made our way back up to the path to our bikes and stood there a few minutes both of us exhausted. When we felt ready, we climbed onto our bikes; my ass was quite sore and sitting on the padding made it even more uncomfortable. I decided to just walk and push the bike with me; Lauren laughed, well aware of what the problem was but she did not make any sort of jokes as I expected.

In fact, the entire walk back to the apartment was a bit silent; neither of us seemed to have anything worth talking about which was strange. I thought she would have something to say and I’m’ sure she thought I would have something to say as well.

When we got back to the apartment, I collapsed on the couch and she went to the kitchen to get us both a glass of water. She sat down next to me and I sat up, we both drank our water slowly and I tried to think of a way to break the silence. She beat me to it though, clearing her throat and sitting her glass down on the coffee table in front of us.

I was down Center City on a warm June afternoon with a group of my friends, just walking around and enjoying ourselves. I had not been out of the house much lately so when they called me up and asked if I wanted to come down here with them, I jumped at the opportunity.

I knew of course what today was; it was the day of the Philadelphia gay pride parade. Two of my friends happened to be lesbians, one of them was gay and one of them was bisexual so I was assuming their main objective for coming here was to attend the parade. I didn’t’ mind, so long as I was out of my house. Not to mention I obviously was not against that lifestyle if they were my friends. Sure enough, after walking around for a while we found ourselves on South Street where the parade was taking place.

My friend Jess, the bisexual girl turned around and smiled at me.

“You’re okay with this right? Sorry we didn’t tell you,”

“Yeah it’s’ fine don’t worry about it,” I replied.

“I’m just glad to be outside.”

I was drawn in by the wide variety of different people that were here and how they seemed to have their own cultures about them all; it was nice to see so many people gathering here to stand up for what they believed in and have fun.

There were gay men, the ones who were a bit flamboyant and obvious about it and there were dudes like’ Jimmy who I never would have suspected was gay until we started talking to him and he told us that he was.

There were girls that were together, lesbians and plenty of people that were bisexual too but most importantly, I realized I was not the only straight heterosexual person attending this yearly parade.

There were also quite a few transsexuals, cross-dressers and the like walking about. They were perhaps the most interesting to me; the transvestites and’ cross-dressers with their crazy costumes and outfits or maybe they would have been labeled as drag queens? I didn’t’ really know the difference and I did not exactly care either so I shrugged it off. The transsexual women did not dress that way’ at all; they were not cross-dressers and that was why.

I understood that much at least, that transsexuals were men who felt as if they had been born in the wrong body and chose to female hormones to become women, the way they felt they should have been born.

I had a lot of respect for them; it took a lot of courage to make decisions like that. If I had ever been faced with such a choice I wasn’t’ sure I would be able to figure out the right decision. We made our way down South Street from 2nd’ all the way up to about 15th street in the area that was known as the Gay district.

They called it such as it was the one section that had the most gay clubs and’ bars. As we continued walking, I noticed a transvestite a few feet away from me kept looking back at me and smiling and winking at me.

She was obviously a man dressed as a woman; it was not hard to tell. A simple look at her face and though she looked feminine, you could still see the masculinity if you paid close attention. She had black curly hair that went down just past her shoulders, and her arms were bigger then a real woman’s arms would likely be.

That was another dead give away to me anyway, I could not deny I was getting’ a little freaked out at how she kept checking me out but I did my best to pay it any attention. I didn’t’ want to come off seeming like some homophobic asshole just because someone was sizing me up a bit.

After the parade ended, we all made our way into a nearby club to continue the fun and it seemed as though that was where everyone involved in the parade was heading; including my admirer. As I sat at the bar sipping a glass of Jack and Coke I watched my friends on the dance floor enjoying themselves together. It was nice to see, and I would be out there with them; but I didn’t’ have anyone to dance with.

I would rather sit here and watch them then go out there and dance by myself. I jumped in surprise at the feeling of a hand on my shoulder and turned around to see my admirer was now standing over me smiling; this was awkward,

“Hey there,” she said. Her voice sounded strangely high, not as masculine as I had expected it would sound. But’ there was still that hint of flamboyance there that reminded me, on top of the masculine facial features, that this was not a real woman.


“Mind if I take a seat?”

Reluctantly, I shook my head and even went as far as to pull out a seat for her trying to be a’ gentlemen’. I realized then maybe that had not been a good move. I might have given her the impression that I was interested; no, I shrugged it off trying not to be such a douche bag anymore now.

“So what’s a cutie like you doing here all alone?”

“Uh…well, I’m not here with a date. Just some friends,”

“Oh I see,”

Hell, nothing wrong with having a little conversation right, I had no problem with talking to this person. We continued talking for a while and I learned her name was Leslie as a cross-dresser and Lenny as a man; she was 37-years old, a lot older than I was and had been cross-dressing a very long time.

I noticed she kept making the occasional move on me here and there but it was no big deal really. I told her my name was Tom,

I explained to her my current dating situation; I was single, but only after having recently ended a two’ year relationship with a girl I thought had loved me. I had given up a lot for this person in the time we had been together, but apparently she’d’ had no gratitude because I had walked in on her having sex with another man about a month ago. It hurt like hell; but I was not going to linger on it because life was too short. I was trying to move on with my life,

“That’s a shame,” she said as I finished my story.

“You’re a very nice man, very cute too; anyone who cheats on a guy like you is undeserving.”

“Thanks,” I smiled. She slid off’ of her stool and I was a bit shocked when she suddenly sat on my lap and leaned in closer to me. I could smell cigarettes and alcohol on her breath as she leaned in to kiss me and before I could protest she was sliding her tongue between my lips.

I finally pulled away and pushed her off’ walking towards the bathroom to wash my face and try to forget that had just happened. As I walked into the rest room and turned on the sink, I sighed, trying to erase the image from my memory. The bathroom door opened and in she walked, taking me completely by surprise; I opened my mouth to remind her she could not be in the men’s room only to remember that she technically was a man so she was’ allowed to go in here if she wanted.

In fact, she would probably get in trouble if she went into the woman’s bathroom before she’d’ get in trouble for coming into this room.

“What are you doing,” I asked as she pushed me away from the sink and turned it off before backing me up against the wall.

“I really like you; and I would love to show you how good I can make you feel in comparison to that bitch who’ cheated on you.”

I had no room to protest before she once again crushed her lips against mine, and sliding her tongue into my mouth. I felt her sliding her hand up under my shirt and teasing my nipples while squeezing my cock through my pants with her other hand. She broke the kiss and I was about to try and’ push her off again when she started kissing, licking and sucking my neck; my weak spot.

I groaned at the feeling of her lips and tongue against my neck as she sucked and bit, leaving a rather large hickey in the place of her lips. I couldn’t’ believe it but my cock was actually getting hard now to my own surprise.

She backed away now and pulled me towards one of the stalls, pushing me in and shutting the door behind us. I could not believe I was about to have sex in a bathroom stall, let alone with a cross-dresser. Couldn’t’ even blame the alcohol since I really was hardly even’ buzzed at this point. She pulled shirt over my head and hung it on the hook on the door before pushing me against the wall and licking my nipples.

I moaned as she licked and sucked on them for a few seconds while undoing my belt and pulling my pants down to my ankles. Now, she was sucking on my right nipple while teasing the other’ which was wet from saliva, then running that hand down to stroke my cock while keeping her mouth trained on my right nipple. She seemed to enjoy the reaction she was getting from me by licking it,

When she finally stopped, I watched as she started to slip out of her pants and underwear and exposed her rather large cock; damn was she big. Not exactly long really, but she was thick; she had to be about six inches long and very thick. She placed both hands on my shoulders and pushed me down to the floor on my knees so that her cock was right in front of my mouth now.

She moved one hand to my head and pulled me towards her, her dick pressing against my lips; I opened wide and she thrust right down my throat making me gag a little. She wasted no time, throat fucking me and I was making the sounds that I was use to hearing from girls who were sucking my cock, it felt weird to know that I was the one sucking dick rather than someone sucking mine.

I acknowledged the strange sensation that came with performing a blowjob for the very first time; her cock head was hot and spongy and tasted like urine but the taste was not really off putting. I could feel her balls against my chin and saliva running down my chin and over her balls.

She pulled her dick from between my lips and I gasped for air as she pulled me to my feet and pushed me face first against the wall. She started running her hands up and down my back while kissing me between the shoulder blades and I could feel her cock rubbing against my asshole.

“Y-You’re supposed to use lube; aren’t you?”

“Don’t worry baby,” she whispered.

She backed away and grabbed her purse off the floor reaching into it and digging around then stopped and sighed.

“Damn it, I must have forgotten to bring it.”

I sighed in relief, seeing this as my chance to get out of this unscathed with my butt-virginity still intact, safe and’ sound.

“Guess we can’t do it then,” I said trying to sound disappointed and waiting for her to back away from me so I could pull my pants up.

It didn’t’ happen though; she smiled and laughed before kissing my neck.

“Honey, you think that would stop me? It’s called improvising, I know how to do it don’t you worry.”

“Shit,” I thought. I wasn’t’ getting out of this I realized as she spit on her hand a couple of times and started rubbing her saliva all over her cock. She got down on her knees and spread my ass cheeks and I felt her tongue diving into my asshole. I jumped in shock; she was giving me a rim job. It felt surprisingly good but still very awkward and I wished there were a way out,

When she stopped, she stood up and spit on her hand again rubbing her cock again before pushing it against my hole again.


“Do I have a choice?”

“Now, now try to act like you’re interested; I’ll make it feel good I promise,”

With that, she slammed right into me and I bit my lip trying not to scream as I reached up over the top of the stall and grabbed the sides of it squeezing until my hands turned red and sore. My asshole felt as if it was on fire, burning as she pushed her entire length deep into me until I could feel her hips against me and I knew she was all the way in.

“Oh fuck,” I groaned in pain as she pulled about halfway out and then thrust right back into me again. What little preparation she had done had done me good, it still hurt though; real lubrication would have helped a lot more.

As she fucked my ass nice and hard I felt myself adjusting to the feeling of fullness and soon enough the pain had subsided enough that it was starting to actually feel really’ good. I felt my own dick beginning to rise, pushed between me and’ the wall and the head was starting to swell. I started moaning and breathing heavily as she continued ramming me harder and harder.

I felt my cock spasm and my entire body went into a fit of shakes as I started to cum, long ropes of semen spurting from my cock all over the wall and the floor. I was a bit surprised at how hard I had came but I had to admit it had probably been the most intense orgasm I had ever experienced in my life.

Leslie continued fucking me, grunting and’ moaning louder now and as she drove herself balls deep inside of me one last time I felt her explode as she began to pump he full of her thick hot semen. She leaned into me, breathing in my ear and resting her head on my shoulder as I remained pinned to the wall waiting for her to back off. We were both sweating very heavily,

She kissed me on the neck and pulled out and I could feel her semen running down the back of my legs. She fixed herself up a bit and I sat down on the toilet, trying to catch my own breath as she headed for the stall door. She stopped and turned around to face me, smiling at me.

“Thanks for the fuck sweetie,” she said before blowing me a kiss and then walking out of the bathroom, leaving me there feeling embarrassed and humiliated; but strangely relieved.

May 2018
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