My Days Being Forced

My Days Being Forced
At first she was only quiet when I got home. It didn't take a mental giant to realize something was wrong. She wasn't talking. She was throwing things around in the amy brett


When I went to the kitchen and asked if something was wrong, she threw me a withering look and continued her silent tirade, pursing her lips. I knew that was a very bad sign.

She glared at me through dinner. She answered my questions, that were quickly becoming shorter and less frequently asked, with monosyllables if at all. She frowned. I was getting worried and I was getting a headache from the tension. Christ, what had I done.

Linda and I have a happy marriage. We've been married for five wonderful years during which we have done virtually everything together. We love each other deeply. That's probably why the whole thing disconcerted me so much.

After dinner, she seemed to make a decision. She rose from the table and, a moment later, returned with a manila envelope. She put it under her left hand and only looked at me while drumming her fingers.

Then she looked as if she made a decision and slid the envelope to me. Wondering, I picked it up and opened it.

There was no way I could have anticipated this.

The top picture was of Tom Vasili and I, smiles on our faces and arms around each other's shoulders.

Tom Vasili. It had been a long time. A year before I met Linda, we had been best friends in college. She knew him too. And on the other side of me in the picture was Emily Van Horne. Oh, God, Emily!

The three of us had been inseparable for that one school year. We did homework together, we ate and drank together, and we discussed life and love and philosophy and God and ... everything.

It had been a wonderful time but had also been a frightening time. My ideas were challenged at every side. I tried grass and LSD. I spent the majority of that year high, mentally wild, and wonderfully alive and happy.

And I knew that I had tried almost everything that it was conceivable to try. And I didn't need the rest of the pictures to know, if not the particulars, the general thrust of what was being shown.

We had done it as a lark and as an experiment and ... I don't know. It was all stupid. But I didn't remember pictures being taken.

But here they were!

One picture showed me making love to Emily. Another showed me with my cock in her mouth. And, finally, the last showed me with my face almost buried between Emily's legs while Tom fucked me.

"Well, sweetie?" she said with a vicious edge to her voice.

"I don't remember this happening," I said honestly. It could have happened. Certainly the evidence of the pictures said it had happened but I didn't remember it.

"You're denying it?" she almost screamed.

"No," I said quietly. "I don't think these leave much doubt. I couldn't deny it if I wanted to. But I don't remember it. I must have been high on something."

"Christ, Buddy. Making love to HER? And letting her suck you?"

I could feel the blow coming.

"Eating her out?" I had done that once with Linda but I didn't really like it so didn't again. "You'll never do that with me."

Her rage frightened me. And the unspoken, as yet, reference I knew was coming.

"And you" she choked, "you with Tom."

I swallowed hard, trying to swallow the chunk of coal that seemed to have been stuffed into my throat.

"Where did these come from?" I asked.

"They were in the mailbox. About an hour later, somebody called and said the negatives are available for five thousand dollars."

"Five thousand! Good God!"

She was silent, looking at me, again for a long time. I could only squirm.

"Motherfucker!" she said with a quiet intensity.

"Honey, you've --"

"Shut up." I did. I knew anything I said couldn't help me. "We're not paying your buddies anything. Fuck them!"

"Good --"

"Shut UP! If they decide to go to the newspapers, what the hell," she continued. "None could print them. We don't have kids and both our parents are dead. Who the fuck are they going to show them to besides me?"

Again she glared.

"And I've seen them, haven't I?"

"I --"

"Shut up," she said again intensely.

She stood up then and hauled back with her right arm. I cringed in spite of knowing that her punch is nothing to worry about greatly. We're about the same size but I at least like to think that I pack more of a wallop than she.

"No, by God, that wouldn't do a damned thing. I can't hit hard enough."

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. It was before I even knew you," I streamed out before she could stop me.

"Doing things with her. The bitch. And worse with him. Good God. I'm so humiliated!"

"I'm --"

"Shut up."

"I'll do anything, baby --" I tried.

"You couldn't do anything."

"Anything, sweetheart. Just --"

"Okay. Then shut the fuck up! Now!" she screamed.

She paced the room, mumbling to herself and looking at the floor. I couldn't help but enjoy watching her as she moved in spite of her rage. Her short skirt flipped at the back of her knees as she walked, her high heels clicking on the tile of the floor. Her arms, crossed under her breasts, only held them up more firmly.

"Humiliated ..." I caught again along with another series of swear words.

"That's it," she said again to me. "I'm humiliated. Now it's your turn."

She walked across the room and grabbed hold of my shirtsleeve. "Come with me."

I went with her willingly since I wanted to do nothing else to infuriate her. She led me to our basement and I watched as she went through the trunks her mother had left her when she died. I didn't see what she was doing but she did it roughly, throwing things into a laundry basket, lifting it and leading the way back upstairs and into the bedroom.

As we crossed the doorway, she turned, still looking at me with that rage in her eyes.

"Strip. Now." I began taking my clothes off. After I took off my pants, she only gestured to take my underwear off and I did. I have rarely been as turned off and I was as soft as I have ever seen it.

"Poor baby," she said sarcastically. "You don't look excited. Shower," she said after looking at me for a while and, if possible, withering it still further with her look.

I did and, as I came out, found her standing with a straight razor in her hand. That really frightened me.

She knelt in front of me and began to shave the hair off my legs in long, almost careless strokes. The only thing she said to me as every leg hair was removed in the next 10 minutes was to stand still.

Then she smiled at me with an evil, mirthless smile and firmly grabbed my cock and balls in one hand, the other still filled with the razor. I held my breath as it came toward me.

In another five minutes she had trimmed off every pubic hair and, releasing me only then, stood back and admired her work. My balls hurt from the rough, tight hold she'd had on me.

Again I followed her to the bedroom. On the bed was a pile of women's clothes. I only looked at them.

Looking through the pile and moving things with her right hand, she held out a pair of black panties in her left. I only stood there with my mouth open.

"Put em on, sweetie," she said again sarcastically.

I did. I noticed that the front of the panties held me, although to one side and the high sides kept them up. She turned and guided her fingers along the leg holes at the front of the panties, nestling them as close to my cock as possible. Then she walked behind me and roughly pulled the thin material into the crack of my ass and the hips as high as she could get them.

Sitting me down, she efficiently painted my toenails with brilliant red nail polish and indicated I should do the same with my fingers. Tentatively, I did as told.

Turning, she held out a pair of stockings and indicated I should put them on as well. With a great deal of difficulty, I finally got them both on. The elastic at the tops held to my thighs. The material felt wild as it seemed to trigger every nerve on my naked legs.

She indicated I should stand then and, moving behind me, strapped a black brassiere around my chest, the straps across my shoulders and the tight elastic clasping at my skin.

Moving in front of me, she began stuffing strange pieces of latex into the cups of the bra. I remembered her mother had had a mastectomy and these, undoubtedly, were the mastectomy pads she had had. As I moved, I found they felt like I imagined breasts would feel, both for weight and movement.

Then she held out the filmiest blouse she owned. She refused to wear it because it was too revealing, she said. Black, it was simple to see through.

Then she handed me the shortest black skirt I have ever seen. It must have been a hold- over from the 60's since I hadn't seen one like it since those wonderful days. Black too, it fell to high on my nylon covered thighs.

She threw me a wide red belt and I quickly put it around my waist. I had to hold my breath to fasten its six inches of sparkling leather width around my stomach and waist.

Then she sat me down at her makeup table looking away from the mirror, and began to apply things to my face. I could feel them and smell their feminine smells, but I couldn't see the effect. I sneezed at powder, cringed at plucked eyebrows, closed my eyes for mascara.

Again she turned and dropped a wig on my head and straightened it. The long hair fell below my shoulders in blond rings. I had seen her wear it once several years before but, she said, it was too hot and now wore only her own short hair.

Then she handed me a pair of black patent leather shoes and, as I slipped them on, I saw long, thin straps that circled my ankles and fastened. They felt very tenuous since they were a little too small for my feet but the strap held them on.

Now she stood me up again and, for the first time since I had gotten home, smiled pleasantly. I towered above her since I am normally a little taller than she but with the very high heels, it added at least 4 inches.

She slipped a pair of gold colored bracelets on my wrist and, as I squirmed again, clipped on a pair of large gold colored earrings.

"Walk around," she said. "You're going to need a little practice."

I didn't know what she was talking about but walked around the room on the high heels anyway. They were not comfortable but I quickly saw that I could at least walk.

"Oh, one more thing," she turned again, unscrewed the cap of a jar I could not see, and walked behind me. "Bend over as far as you can."

I did, nearly falling over on my face but for catching the edge of the bed. I felt her throw the back of the skirt up over my back and touching my naked bottom. Then she pulled the material of the panties out of the crack of my ass.

I felt something between my legs, pressing at the skin of my asshole uncomfortably.

"Spread your legs," she said. I stepped outward. "Further." I spread my knees shakily.

Then I felt something insinuating itself between my legs, into my ass, roughly. In, in, inward in a rocking motion backward and forward until I felt it very deep inside me. Then I felt more motion there and movement outward.

She tossed the pink plastic tube of a Tampax on the bed then but I still felt filled. Then she pulled the string and I knew that it was embedded deep within me. I moaned in humiliation.

"Oh, yes, sweetie," she said again with that dripping sarcasm. "You have to know what it's like to be a woman. I only have to live with this a week each month." Then roughly, she pulled the material of the panties back into the crack of my ass and pulled the skirt down.

"Stand up. See how it feels," she said. I did and could hardly keep my legs from collapsing with the feeling of it. It was uncomfortable and, with every movement, I felt it move. But somehow it was also very sensual.

"Look at yourself," she said with a "shame on you" kind of inflection, her arms crossed over her chest.

I looked into the mirror and couldn't believe it. There was a woman in the mirror. And actually, not a bad looking woman. Certainly the woman was a sexily dressed one.

She walked around in front of me then, a smile playing on her lips. She put a hand on each of my false breasts, squeezing them sexily as she looked me up and down.

"Now you're going to do a favor for me," she said nastily. "I want a newspaper." I thought wildly. There was a newspaper in the kitchen from yesterday. But I thought I knew, with a groan, what she meant. She wanted a new newspaper. "Today's," she said in case I had missed the message.

I visualized the newspaper rack in the lobby of the Holiday Inn on the busiest street in town where I sometimes got one on the way from the office. It was a block south and three blocks east from our house. More often than picking one up myself, I usually asked her to go down and get a paper after I came home.

"Come with me." She led the way from the bedroom to the front door and pushed me toward it as she opened it. "If you don't get the newspaper," she said with that hard edge to her voice, "you might as well stay at the motel. You won't get back in here." The door closed after she put a quarter in my hand.

I thought about going through alleys or back yards but quickly decided I couldn't do it in high heels and a short skirt. I was going to have to brazen it out and walk down the sidewalks. The skin of my neck crawled with fear.

I put my chin up and started walking.

Walking in the high heels was a true experience. I stumbled and clacked as I walked. My ankles hurt with the new and quite different pressures placed on them by the shoes.

But I noticed too that, as if manufactured for the purpose, they forced my hips to sway back and forth, making the skirt sway in opposition.

A block away from the house, I saw our car pass me with Linda not even glancing at me from the driver's seat. Two blocks away, a carload of teenage boys passed, hanging out of the windows and showering me in catcalls and lewd invitations. I cringed but walked on, ignoring them. They kept going, thank God.

I got a lot of attention when I reached busy Concord Street a block from the motel but all I could do was swing my arms (and my hips in the high heels) and walk on.

Finally I got to the Holiday Inn and walked through the front door and into the lobby.

It was a busy place with dozens of people walking around the open space. Several people were checking in at the desk, three or four sat in chairs talking.

I intended to walk directly to the newspaper rack, get a paper and leave as quickly as possible. It didn't work.

"Ah, there she is now," her voice said across the large room. I saw Linda and three men walking toward me. "If you ask her real nice, I'm sure she'll have a drink with us."

"Rita," she said as she grabbed my arm. "This is Bob and Bill and ... I guess I didn't get your name."

"Roger," the man said, staring at my breasts unashamedly.

She leaned very close to me then and whispered, "You better find a woman's voice in there, sweetie."

I tried to think of what a woman's voice would sound like and pitched my normal voice slightly higher. "Nice to meet you. I hope you'll excuse me. I have to deliver a paper."

"Oh, you couldn't do that, Rita," Linda said brightly. "My friends want to buy us a drink and I told them all about you. How sexy you are."

I cringed again but nodded and accepted one of the men's arm, impossible to ignore or refuse. I smiled, trying to put on the best face I could with the terror climbing up and down my spine. She'd set me up.

They led me to a table in the bar and ordered drinks for all of us. I sat back, so nervous and frightened of discovery that I shook as if I were cold. One of the men noticed and gave me his coat that I gratefully draped across my shoulders. It covered up part of my almost uncovered upper body. It was also warm and a little sweaty.

Linda and the men did most of the talking. I only said something when a question was directed to me. I drank the foamy cream drink they had ordered for me and watched them.

Bob, I think it was, expended a lot of energy trying to hustle Linda. I seethed as I watched her lead him on. They danced and I watched her lean into him sexily, wrapping her arms around his neck. And I watched as he kissed her and she responded again.

It grated on me a lot as I watched her skirt ride up on the back of her legs as she stretched to drape herself on him. They barely moved around the floor. Really just an extended hug, their bodies moving slightly to the jukebox's music.

"Would you like to dance," Roger said near my ear. I was mad and decided she needed some of her own medicine.

"Yes," I said. "I would."

He smiled brightly and led me to the middle of the dance floor. I realized belatedly that I didn't know how to dance as a woman but Roger didn't really give me opportunity to worry about it as he grabbed my left hand and put his arm around my back to hold me close to his body roughly.

I looked at Linda then and saw her glaring at me but, seeing that I'd noticed, purposefully ignoring me and repositioning her body even closer to Bob.

When we all returned to the table, I carefully arranged the short skirt to avoid giving myself away, crossed my legs, and continued to drink and listen to the talk. Still another in a series of drinks arrived and the men paid for them. I could feel the cold emanating from Linda as she sat next to me.

"Linda," I said quietly. "Can we go home now?"

"No," she glared at me.

"I've got to go to the bathroom."

"Suffer," she said harshly.

I did for a while, watching as she danced two or three more times and refusing other offers myself. Obviously, my little attempt at revenge had backfired.

"Linda, I've got to go. I have to."

She looked at me fiercely then her look softened to a smile.

"You'll excuse us," she said to the men. "We have to adjourn to the powder room." She stood, even as my mouth dropped in disbelief, and grabbed my hand.

On the way through the lobby toward the restroom she leaned close to me again. "I'm going to check for that little string I put in before. It better still be there or I'll put in a new one myself."

I only nodded.

Still not believing it, I followed her as she led the way across the bar and into the lobby where the restrooms are. Knowing I couldn't go to the men's room, I followed her into the bathroom and, astonished, saw that three other women already occupied it.

She indicated the stall nearby and, not having a choice, I went to it, locked the door behind me, pulled down the black panties to my knees, and did what I had to do. Then I replaced the panties and unlocked the door.

The women combed their hair, freshened lipstick, and chattered. Finally they left, leaving Linda and I alone.

"You're doing very well," she said.

"I have to if I want to get out of here alive," I said, firmly believing it.

She giggled, I'm sure from the drinks and not from real mirth. "You're very pretty, sweetie. You've got nothing to worry about." I watched as she freshened her own makeup then turned and brushed my hair quickly where it had been mussed.

With a lewd movement, she reached around me, lifted the skirt slightly and searched until she found the string. She pulled it roughly, then, apparently satisfied, tucked it back into the back of the panties and roughly pulled them back between my ass cheeks.

"There," she said with a smile, looking at me. "As good as new." Then she lifted her skirt absently and pulled her blouse down. "No, wait," she said. Purposely, holding me with her look as a spider does a fly, she lifted the skirt high above her waist and pulled her own panties downward until she could step out of them. She wore the same kind of nylons she had forced on me.

"Now, what I'm going to do, my pretty girl, is put these in my purse. Then I'm going to go back to the table and get one of those guys to finger me to an orgasm. What do you think of that?"

I groaned again. "Linda, don't do this. I didn't do anything this bad. Please."

"Forget it, sweetie. At least, I'm not making you take your panties off. And I could, couldn't I?"

"It'd give me away pretty fast and then your little game would be over."

"Yes, that's why I'm not doing that. But you just watch and see what I can get these guys to do."

She turned quickly and left the restroom then. I knew there was nothing I could do about it. I only followed.

I watched her after we returned to the table.

She hadn't any more than sat down when she leaned close to Bob's ear. I watched her pull her skirt high on her legs and look down at the naked skin above the nylons. Very nearly, she showed him her naked midsection.

Maybe she didn't expect what happened next.

Bob tapped Bill on the knee and whispered something in his ear. Then he stood and changed positions with Linda, giving her little choice in the matter.

I watched as the two men stared into space, at the dancing couples, at the bar and, simultaneously, allowed their hands to rest on Linda's knees. Their fingers traced little shapes on her nylon covered legs and, I noticed, gently pulled her legs further apart until her legs were wide.

Then Bill's hand moved upward on her leg until it went under her short skirt and began more movement there. I saw her tense as, obviously, they contacted something connected to her nervous system.

Her hands clenched on the arms of the chair.

Her eyes closed as the two men, working in concert, found her most sensitive spots and began moving on and in them. It was obvious to anyone looking that Bob had found her cunt and his finger was buried deep within it.

Her head went back and her mouth opened as they continued. Then, I saw, her body went rigid, the muscles of her legs vibrating, as a climax racked her body.

Roger chose that inopportune moment to ask me to dance. Since I couldn't stand the sexual tension of watching Linda, I agreed and followed him to the floor.

He held me closer than he had before and, before I could react, turned my face and kissed me on the lips very hard. His tongue forcibly spread my lips and delved into my mouth. His hand held my hand and my shoulder at once pulling my upper body off balance and into his body. His other hand, I felt then, slipped from my back to my bottom and clasped it roughly.

As the kiss extended, I found myself far less resistant to it, actually falling into it completely. I was so involved, actually, that I didn't feel his hand move down to the hem of the skirt I wore, under it and back up until his hand clasped my naked bottom. I knew, if she looked, Linda would see that I was exposed as would everyone else who looked.

But I couldn't break off that wonderful kiss. And it continued through the dance.

He led me back to the table as the music stopped and I sat down. Immediately, I saw that Linda was still engaged. In fact, now she had a hand in each of the two men's laps as they unhesitatingly masturbated her. She was fully open to view from only slightly below her waist, down.

At once, as if my looking at them had keyed it, all three climaxed obviously and completely.

This time Linda recovered first and returned her hands to the arms of her chair. The two men only relaxed in theirs.

With a shock, I felt Roger's warm breath on my ear just before he kissed it.

"I'd do that for you, too," he said, his fingers touching my leg and moving upward. It was tantalizing for a moment and I was slow in reacting. But I quickly put my hand on the back of his, stopping his upward progress short of his goal, thankfully.

"I think you better help your friends," I said. "And then we'll talk about it when you get back."

He looked at the two men, the stains soaking through their pants, and with a frown stood and walked behind them. He whispered something to them that I was sure pointed out their conditions. They quickly stood and left for the bathroom.

Equally as quickly, I stood and walked to Linda.

"Linda, we've got to go right now, while they're gone. If we don't, you're going to get raped and ... I don't know what's going to happen to me but I don't really think you want that. Please, let's go."

She looked around and made a decision. She stood, crooked a finger at me, and walked toward the door. I followed, then caught up and nervously even pushed her forward toward the outside.

We made it safely to the car and into it. Perhaps she had forgotten why I had been sent out. I didn't have a newspaper and had no intention of going back for one. I didn't have to walk back home again. A little drunkenly, I thought, she started the car, backed into the lot, and drove home. Once there, she unlocked the door and led the way in.

Relieved at being home, I quickly went to the bathroom as she moved on down the hall to the bedroom. Only a minute later, I got to the bedroom.

"You thought I had forgotten, didn't you, sweetie," she said from the middle of the room. She stood with her feet wide apart in the most aggressive stance I had ever seen her take. Her hands were on her hips. "You've still got some making up to do."

I was very dejected. "All right. What now?"

"Come here and unbutton my blouse." I did as I was told. "Take off my bra." I did. "Now suck my tits. This one first." I did and felt her hands pulling my face close to her randy body. She forcefully lifted my head and fed me the other breast after a few moments then, after another few minutes, pulled me away from her.

"Take off my skirt, sweetie. I always wanted to have a lesbian eat me out." I did as I was told, though with a great deal more willingness than most of the things she had had me do. She sat down on the dressing table, indicated I should kneel in front of her, and spread her legs wide. Then she entwined her fingers in the long hair of the wig and pulled my face harshly into her cunt.

"Eat me bitch! Suck it up in your mouth. Put your tongue in my cunt. Suck on my clit until I come."

Amazingly fast, she came magnificently then pushed me away again. I lost my balance and fell backwards on the floor.

"Now get on your hands and knees." I did and felt the firm pull of the string and, eventually, the loss of the Tampax. The skirt was now above my waist. Her finger twisted and turned as it went in my asshole until I felt her knuckles against my ass. After a few long strokes, I felt a second then a third finger. Her other hand wrapped around my manhood, sheathed in the thin panties still and pumped at it.

I felt my come rising then. Suddenly, she stopped. "No," she said. "That's too good for you."

As if she had had it planned, she pulled a pair of nylons from her drawer and tied my hands behind my back. Then she tied one to my left leg and to a leg of the couch. Then the other to the leg of the bed, pulling powerfully until I felt like a wishbone my legs were spread so far.

She inspected my asshole under me with her fingers and moved the material of the panties until I stood free of them. Then she lowered her body onto my cock until it was all inside her.

"Now, I'm going to rape you, you fucking asshole." And for the next two hours, she did -- magnificently.


As I was put to bed that night, I thought that Linda's anger had run its course. She even kissed me goodnight gently. But I was wrong.

Oh, I say "put to bed" in a literal sense. After she was through taking her anger out on my body, she gave me a long, flannel nightgown to put on over the bra and the returned panties. Then she led me to the spare bedroom and directed me into the bed, shut the door, and locked it behind her.

For the rest of that long weekend, I did everything she asked of me. The uncomfortable Tampax was renewed in my ass each time I had to expel it to got to the bathroom, the string frequently checked. In the house, she didn't require my dick to be tied up between my legs and around my waist as on our trip out. But it was returned each time she insisted on my running an errand, as were the high heels.

I wore a variety of women's clothing that weekend along with the makeup and wig. Generally these clothes were less revealing and somewhat more comfortable for me. Flat shoes or small heeled sandals replaced the high heels in the house. When I was wearing the women's pants one afternoon without nylons, she even allowed me to go barefoot.

I did all the cooking that weekend after cleaning house throughout the days. It wasn't an enjoyable weekend for me. Of that there was no doubt.

I cringed at what I feared she had in mind for me on Monday morning when she woke me and wondered if I could appear at work in a dress but she relented without discussion. The clothes she laid out for me that morning were my normal slacks, socks, shoes, shirt, tie and sports coat. But she only allowed me to take the breast forms out of the bra, the bra remaining. And the Tampax and panties remained with a garter belt and nylons.

It wasn't an overly hot day, but the combination of pants and stockings was quite warm. The fear of being caught wearing the panties and bra were a constant concern for me during the day.

If I thought there might be some other relenting in her attitude during the day, I was wrong. At about 2 in the afternoon, she stopped by my office and, insisting I loosen my pants, checked for the Tampax string. I hadn't dared remove it. I went home after work with a great deal of trepidation.

When I arrived, she immediately guided me to my room, where I now found my clothing and an interesting variety of women's clothes in the closet but only filmy women's underwear and stockings in the drawers. I was directed to dress "pretty" for dinner. She led me to the car after I had dressed, made up, and returned the wig to my head, and we went out to dinner.

At dinner, she leaned across the table and asked how I liked being her little sweetheart. Of course, I told her I loved it. Then the revelations began.

She had been doing her research during the day, I learned.

First she told me of her talk with my secretary that resulted in her disclosure of the night I had spent with her a year before. I'd done it once and realized I couldn't do it to myself or to Linda. Linda didn't care about any "after the fact" thoughts. Only about the initial indiscretion.

Then she told me about tracking down and finding George Marshall, a salesman for a company mine works with occasionally. George is quite thoroughly gay and, after a night of drinking, had convinced me that sleeping with him would be a very exciting experience. It had been but the look on Linda's face told me she didn't like it.

"It seems," she finally said, "that you find it impossible to maintain fidelity and even to maintain masculinity. You'd fuck anything, wouldn't you?"

I didn't have a leg to stand on and in the busy restaurant, I didn't want to loudly defend my actions either. Before the cognac, she passed me a tiny pill that she insisted I swallow. I did. Every morning and evening in the six months since then, she has given me another of the pills. It took a month and a pharmaceutical dictionary for me to identify them -- Estrogen along with a complex of other female hormones and catalysts.

I noticed their result first as my sexual desire diminished to nothing almost immediately. During the first week, my nipples became sensitive and somewhat swollen along with being quite red. After a month, the swelling of my chest was obvious and the increased size of my nipples was notable. After the second month, I could easily form a cleavage of my own flesh with the breast forms to fill out my bras. After three months, I could have worn an A-cup bra without the breast forms and my nipples were as large as Linda's. Thankfully, my sex drive returned at about this time.

Conversely, my balls began to shrink and my production of semen tapered off to almost nothing. When Linda insisted on my tying back my dick, it no longer hurt where my testicles were pressed even when I sat with my legs crossed tightly.

I think that was about the time Linda made me climax for the first time by touching and sucking on my nipples.

After that Monday dinner out, her disdain for me grew steadily, particularly during the months when I couldn't get hard enough to satisfy her in her semi-rapes.

It's now been six months. At night, I can wear a C-cup bra without any breast forms and even went out one night with a low cut dress on that showed a considerable decolletage.

It is a strange existence. I spend the workday, my chest wrapped with an ace bandage, and my much longer hair tied in a hippie-like tail nearly too long to pass for male. On a good night, I am her plaything, her experiment. On a bad night, I'm almost her slave, doing all the work around the house and taking her verbal abuse. We've only been out of the house at night twice. Once, as I told you, in a low cut dress and once earlier in a more conservative blouse and skirt.

Both times, she engineered getting laid as I was forced to covertly watch.

Oh, yes, and last night. Friday night.

Last night, she had me dress very conservatively in a pair of women's slacks and blouse. High heels of course. We never leave the front door at night unless I'm wearing them. But no stockings, no low cut outfit. No outrageous jewelry. Even minimal makeup.

She took me to her hairdresser! That's right.

Her hairdresser lives in the back of her little two chair shop and Linda had made special arrangements with her to work on me. She told her it would be a challenge. Pam seemed to enjoy what challenge there was left after this six months of treatments of all sorts.

She started by giving me a permanent and styling my long hair into a series of soft waves. Then she did a complete manicure and pedicure. Now I know I can't have a traffic accident and end up in the hospital. Most embarrassing, Linda paid for me to have a wax job on my legs. It was unbelievably painful as the hot wax was put on them and then systematically torn off along with the remaining hair.

Luckily, since this girl sincerely believed me to be Linda's female cousin, Linda didn't let her do the bikini wax. That she saved for when we got home. Have you ever plucked a nose hair or a vagrant eyebrow? Or pulled a Band-Aid off a hairy part of your body? Imagine that times about a million and you get some idea of the pain.

The only repayment for that was that she showed me her own wax job, done a few days ago. That ended the evening when she allowed me to eat her completely naked slit while she had numerous orgasms.

I worked hard today to get the house looking perfect under her tight direction. The only enjoyable part being not having to wear the sweaty wig but, rather, enjoying my own nicely done hair.

She had me start a beautiful dinner for four about an hour ago after, of course, doing the shopping for it. Filets, baked potatoes, vegetables, green salads, the works. A few minutes ago, she took over, starting the potatoes, and sent me to shower and "get beautiful."

After my shower, I made up the best I know how and fixed my hair. The permanent makes that easy. It combs out beautifully and large, unruly waves surround my face and neck.

I put on my prettiest black lace bra, garter belt, and black nylons. I choose my A-line little black dress with the low cut in front and back and short skirt. I've lost three inches off my waist in the last six months and the A-line clings to it really nice. I'm proud.

I chose my nicest black panties and return to the bathroom. I've gotten used to inserting the Tampax myself now and it comes as naturally as the unnatural act of putting a bra on. As I get ready to do that, the door opens and Linda's smiling face peeks in. "That won't be necessary, sweetie," she says. "I think you've been on the rag for long enough. Don't you?"

I nod and smile. Though I've gotten used to having the plug in my ass all the time, I still haven't learned to like it and it is a constant and continual irritant. Now, as I make a final check of my looks in the mirror, it feels very strange and liberated to not be wearing the Tampax.

"Here," she says as I return to the bedroom to shut off the light and get my shoes. She holds up the bottle of her favorite perfume. "Just a touch behind each ear, the back of your knees and the creases of your thighs. Okay?" I smile. This must be some other recognition of her love for me.

I sit down, pull the nylons down and put a drop behind each knee before replacing the nylons and putting on my panties. I put a drop in the fold of my thighs and wipe my wetted finger across my tummy. When I stand up, I reorganize my dick so it is between my legs where it belongs, and pull up the panties tighter. This works just fine.

I touch more of the perfume behind each ear and then in the cleavage between my full breasts.

Coming back into the room, she hands me a pair of her sapphire earrings. They're beautiful. I put them in my pierced ears, a result of one night with an ice cube. As I look at them in the mirror, I'm glad she pierced them, though I didn't enjoy it at all at the time.

She puts her long gold chain necklace with the single large sapphire pendant on it around my neck so it settles in my cleavage. I turn to her with my appreciative smile broad on my face and she smiles back at me. I risk smearing both our lipsticks by kissing her softly.

"Mmmm," she says. "You smell nice. And you look just beautiful."

"Thank you," I say, feeling myself blush. Except for her mean, cynical times, she's never said that to me before. Those earlier times weren't meant as compliments and weren't taken that way.

"C'mon, now. We've got company coming."

"Company? Who?" I ask.

"Some friends of mine. I think you'll like them," she says as she turns to the door. "I know they'll like you."

I followed her downstairs and into the living room where we sat down. I enjoyed looking at her and the way her short dress showed the sides of her thighs. Looking down, I realized her view of me was much the same. It was very strange still, for me.

"Would you make me a drink, sweetheart?" she asks. She has only demanded for six months. I wonder at the change but leap to do it for her. "Actually, while you're there, why don't you make a pitcher of martinis." Changing direction from a single glass to the pitcher, I quickly make the drinks. "Please, have one yourself, baby."

I haven't had a drink for six months. Actually, I'm a little afraid it'll go to my head but it sounds so good, I get out two glasses and pour them on top of the speared olives. The doorbell rings and I start to answer it before she says, "I'll get it, my little lover."

I take the martinis to the living room and watch as she opens the door. A tall, very beautiful woman wraps her arms around Linda and exclaims. "Oh, Linda! You have such a wonderful house! And such a neighborhood!" They kiss on the lips, I notice but this isn't too unusual for women. It's the first time I've ever seen this woman. Of that, I'm sure.

"Hi, Linda. You look fantastic!" the man says as he holds her arms wide, his eyes traversing her from top to bottom as she twists from one side to the other to best show it off. He takes her in his arms and her leg lifts at the knee when he kisses her roughly and thoroughly. I don't know him either.

"That dress must have cost you a fortune, Francie," Linda says. I see that it is a very fashionable crisscross front blue dress in a light material. The hem is tuliped, I think it's called, splitting at the bottom in rounded corners. It's quite short. The top seems to only barely constrain her considerable breasts. Her long blond hair falls across her chest, the tips at the bottom of the low cut neckline.

"No, no," she says, waving off the compliment. "I've had it for months."

The man is wearing a casual leisure coat over white pants and white shoes. His pink shirt is unbuttoned to show the profuse hair of his chest and several gold chains. He looks very fit.

"And you look wonderful, Ivan," she says. "As usual."

They come into the living room, Linda and Francie with their arms around each others' backs.

Francie breaks away and rushes to me.

"This just has to be your Amy!" she exudes as she holds my arms out to my sides as well, looking me up and down as she did Linda. "Yes, yes! She's as pretty as you said she was!"

"I would say you understated," Ivan says. "Ivan Borosky at your service," he says as he kisses the back of my hand. It tickles with his mustache and sends a charge of feeling up my arm. Now I know why women like this little continental gesture.

"Nice to meet you both," I say as sweetly as I can. "Would you like a martini or can I make you something else.

"Definitely a martini, my dear," he says.

"Please," she says from behind him.

I turn to fill two more glasses. As I do, I listen to the conversation in the other room.

"She's as nice as you said she was, my dear," the woman's voice says.

"But you didn't tell us she was so pretty!" he adds. "How in the world have you done it?"

I feel uncomfortable being discussed so candidly. I wonder what Linda has told them.

"It really hasn't been too hard," Linda says. "We'll see tonight how well I've done."

"I'm sure," both the other voices say. I vow that I'll try my best at whatever Linda wants. I return with the drinks and find them all sitting down. I notice that Francie's skirt opens high onto her crossed thigh showing that she is wearing pantyhose. Otherwise the garter and top of her stockings would be showing. It is that high. She has beautiful long legs.

I put the drinks down in front of them and, looking up a little, see that Ivan is staring down my cleavage. Bent over like this, he can probably see my bellybutton. I straighten quickly and go to my chair where I carefully sit and cross my legs away from them to maintain some of my modesty at least. I've had enough instruction from Linda in how to behave as a lady.

"So, Linda tells us that this is kind of your coming out party, Amy," Francie says. I don't know how to answer. They have to know that I'm too old to be having any kind of coming out party unless they know more about me than I hope Linda has told them. I decide to speak to the best possibility.

"Yes. I'm trying my hand at being the good hostess tonight." Ivan chews on his olives as he continues to smile and stare at me disconcertingly. His eyes too often dwell on either my legs or my cleavage to be comfortable.

"I think you're doing beautifully, sweetheart," Francie says, leaning to pat the back of my hand and, in the process, showing me her assets down to her own bellybutton.

"You have a fine hand with a martini," Ivan says and I see that his glass is empty. Quickly, I go to the kitchen and get the pitcher, along with a large coaster to keep the dripping container from staining the table. I pour new drinks into each of their glasses, seeing each of their eyes looking down the front of my dress as I do it. I squat slightly to set the pitcher down in the middle of the table and see Ivan's eyes now on my legs.

I return to my chair and, flushed with embarrassment at the inspection I've been getting, drink my own martini, stand and pour myself another, and return to the chair.

"I think we need some more olives as well, Amy," Linda says. I see that she's right and go back to the kitchen. While I'm there, I check the potatoes and find them ready.

"Linda! It's just amazing!" Francie is saying in the other room. "She's just so perfect!"

"Not perfect, dear," Linda answers, "but getting much better."

"Oh, I think you're being too hard on yourself. I agree with Francie. Perfect." I return with a plate of olives on skewers and set it down on the table. Everyone's eyes are again on my chest. It makes me very nervous.

"So what have you been doing since the last time we saw you at the club?" Ivan says to Linda.

"Oh, I have my work cut out for me here," she says. That, for the last few months, has been telling me what to do next. I finish my martini and pour another for myself and for Ivan, who has also finished. As I stand back up, I realize I can feel the effects of the two drinks already. I sit down carefully and work to pull my skirt down to a reasonable level. When I look up, everyone's eyes are on me. I blush.

I watch them for a while then as they talk of mutual acquaintances at "the club." They must be talking about the place where Linda works out and plays racquetball a couple of times a week. It also includes a very nice lounge so any good done by the exercise is immediately destroyed by a few drinks. It's mostly a gathering place for the "beautiful" people.

"Amy," my wife says then. "It's time to put the steaks on." I nod and leave the room. I can hear them talking but I can't hear what they are saying now. I guess it doesn't matter. I really don't seem to have much to talk to these people about anyway.

I put the salads on the dining room table and return to move the finished steaks onto a plate to keep warm in the oven. The potatoes come out and into a bowl and the vegetables into a serving dish to join the steaks.

I return to the living room and call everyone to the table. Ivan brings my martini with his. I see the pitcher is empty. He sets the drinks down and then holds my chair for me before doing the same for the other two women. He sits on my right.

"Would you open the wine, Ivan?" Linda says. We all watch as he opens, pours a small amount, and swirls the wine before tasting it. Then he pours for each of the rest of us.

"Amy," Francie says. "You set a beautiful table. Are the flowers from the yard?"

"Yes," I answer. Another of my duties during the last six months has been planting and caring for the flower garden.

We eat and, for the first time since they arrived, they are paying attention to something besides me. It gives me a chance to let go of the abject terror I've been feeling since the doorbell rang. I loosen up somewhat but what I really feel is the butterflies in my stomach. My God, I think. What would they think of me if they knew? I close my eyes as I chew a succulent bite of steak, maybe enjoying the slight dizziness I feel from the martinis.

"This is just absolutely wonderful!" Francie says, speaking to me. I thank her quietly. "Perfectly done!"

"They say the way to a man's heart ..." Ivan says with a smile as he sits back from his empty plate. "You've certainly gotten to mine."

In a few moments, the rest of us catch up with him, our plates emptied.

"I'll get the cognac if you'll get the coffee, sweetheart," Linda says then. Knowing my duties, I stand and get the coffee pot and the warmer to set it on. I pour for each of them, noticing Linda's eyes sparkling with her pride in me. I like that. She has already poured the small amounts of cognac in the brandy snifters and Ivan swirls his and breathes in the released vapors. I can remember doing that sort of thing when I was more ostentatious. Now, I only savor the fiery liquid, washing it past my tongue with hot coffee.

The combination of martinis, wine, and cognac is going to my head. I can definitely feel it making me reel a little with their combined effects. It gives me a heady, giddy feeling that I like as long as I'm in control of it but I can sense the abyss that stretches fairly near by.

"Let's move to where it's softer," Linda says and leads the way into the living room. I start to pick up the dirty dishes in hopes that the effort, with the dishwashing, will clear my head. "No, no," she calls back to me. "I'll help you with that later, darling. Come and join us now."

I almost look at the dirty dishes with longing, partly because of the hope they hold out to me of sobering somewhat and partly because I can see them already when the meat juices have cooled and hardened onto their surfaces if put it off.

I'm a bit put out when I get to the living room. Linda is sitting in my chair and Francie is sitting in hers.

"Please," Ivan says, standing. "Come sit here beside me." Squeezing between him and the coffee table, uncomfortably close to him in the passage, I move to the open spot on the couch near him. Before I can sit down, Francie moves over to the end where I intended to sit, forcing me between the two of them. I think about moving to Linda's chair but the effort just seems too much. I sit down with my coffee and cognac. I'm not going to drink any more, I decide.

Francie turns on the couch toward me, her legs brushing against mine as her hand strokes my shoulder.

"You did an absolutely wonderful job with dinner! And the table! Beautiful! I just can't imagine a more well done meal. Like it was catered after all!" She turns to Linda, who is leaning her smiling face in her palm, relaxed. "You must be very very proud of her!"

I enjoyed the praise but somehow the profusion seems to smack false somehow. I notice, distinctly, Francie's hand resting on first the tip of my shoulder, then nearer my neck, then on my neck.

"I must say," Ivan says from my other side, "that I have honestly never seen a finer meal, better served." His hand rests in the small of my back as I sit poised on the edge of the couch's cushion.

I thank them but this is really getting to be a bit much. I was good. But not this good. My head is fuzzy and now the fuzzy is becoming more unpleasant. I sip at my coffee in an attempt to dull the buzz I'm feeling.

"Amy," Francie says then. "Would you tell us a little about yourself?"

My dulled brain seeks for an answer of some kind but it really isn't functioning at full potential at all. Any quick responses I might have been able to form a few hours ago are long gone. They've probably been gone since the first martini. I shrug, hoping this is enough.

"Tell them, Amy," Linda commands with a smile. I only look at her for a second, wondering what she wants me to say. She seems to understand and her look hardens. "Tell them the truth, Amy."

I gulp. I know now a little of what Linda has done tonight. The two people at my sides, when I look at them, each smile but now I know. It is another part of my "education." I wonder if I'm going to enjoy it. I somehow doubt it if it is anything like the last few months of my life. But I am resigned. I can't be otherwise.

"You know most of it, don't you?" I ask, looking into Ivan eyes. He smiles. "Don't you?" I ask Francie. She smiles and nods once.

"Please tell us what you are feeling, Amy," Ivan says with more sincerity than I've heard in a while. I take a deep breath and exhale slowly.

"What do you want to know?"

"What does it feel like, sweetheart?"

"Feel like? I don't think I know what you mean." I really don't.

"How is your life different now than a few months ago?" Ivan asks.

"About as different as possible," I answer. "Imagine, if you can't imagine my condition, what it would be like to be a normal, comfortable American one minute and the next a pygmy somewhere in the jungle. It couldn't be any more different."

"That unpleasant?" Francie asks with a bit of derision. After all, she is a woman.

"Maybe that's overstated," I say. "Maybe more like being stripped naked and left in the middle of downtown at rush hour, Francie."

"Oh!" she exclaims. "That much of a shock? Really?" I only look at her and smile.

"Except, perhaps you'd have a group of ready helpers," I say. "A group of women perhaps who would hide you and offer their coats. Or a group of men who would see that you got inside somewhere and taken care of."

"You mean Linda has been that hard?" Ivan asks, looking at Linda. I see her frown.

"I hurt her," I say. "I think I've deserved much of it. But it doesn't change the fact that I feel alone in a very strange situation. Or maybe a whole set of situations. Every situation, in fact."

"But Linda is here to guide you. Even to tell you what you need to do next." I nod.

"Yes, but I think I've lost her love. And that's what I need most. Particularly now."

"But what do you feel about wearing women's clothes?" Ivan asks.

I smile. "That's the nicest part. I love the feel, the sensuality of the clothes."

"Then the change?" Francie says. They have been thoroughly briefed.

"That's all right. I don't really mind. This stage. Constantly worrying about being caught. This is hard and frightening. The underthings at work. Answering the door here. There's fear all the time."

I wonder if I dare. I look at Linda and see her frown. I don't think she's happy with me. Then she surprises me and sits forward in her chair.

"You both know who Amy is. I've told you and I've told you what's going on. Maybe I didn't tell you how it all started for us a few months ago." Ivan's hand still rests in the small of my back, rubbing it. Francie's hand is still on my neck, under my hair in the sensitive short hair there. Occasionally they both move their fingers over me.

For the next 15 minutes, she tells them about my early infidelity and the anonymous letter that started this whole thing. Then she shares my more recent infidelities with my secretary and with George Marshall. She tells them that I have craved being a woman for a long time and I wonder if that's really true. Perhaps it is but I know I would never have gone this far if she hadn't insisted.

It is strange. Often in the last few months, I've thought that I deserved this punishment for my infidelities and for my more private thoughts and actions. Linda has forced me to tell her everything I've thought or done in my life at some time during the last six months.

As she recites these things back, I feel a tension in Ivan and Francie's hands and their movements on me. They don't like these things about me as I don't. Also, though, I feel their sexual excitement as some things are revealed. Francie sighs and squirms occasionally. Ivan smirks or maybe it's just a grin of appreciation. I'm not sure.

"You have been a little bitch, haven't you, Amy?" Ivan asks with that grin.

"She deserves the punishment," Linda concludes, obviously without requiring their agreement in the least. It's just a statement of fact.

"And the treatments are really taking?" Francie asks.

"Oh, yes. Very nicely," Linda answers. "Show them, baby." I look at her wondering what she wants of me. I really don't know if she means my domestication or my physical body.

"What do you want?" I ask softly, my head bowed to the inevitable.

"I want you to pull down the top of your dress and show them your beautiful breasts," she says rather too sweetly. I look at her for confirmation and the shine in her eyes tells me that is exactly what she wants. Now I'm very very nervous. I've never done this.

Slowly, I pull my dress off one shoulder and Francie shifts to a position where she can see better. Then I pull the other shoulder down. The shoulder straps hold my arms to my sides until Ivan pulls one below my elbow. His hand comes to my lace covered breast, rubbing the nipple through the thin material. Gasping slightly in surprise, I feel Francie undo the bra in back and then they both pull it down my arms until my breasts stand free of the material for their inspection.

I see Linda is sitting on the edge of her chair, a broad smile on her face. She seems very pleased.

I gasp again as Francie's fingers find my nipple and squeeze it softly, rolling it sensuously. Thus diverted, my attention is quickly drawn back when Ivan licks my other nipple and the nerves in it fire throughout my body. They have pushed the top of my dress and my bra off my arms altogether, the dress gathered about my waist.

"We're both going to take you, Amy," Francie breathes into my ear. "That's why Linda brought us here tonight."

"Oh, no," I moan, the feelings in my breasts beginning to overwhelm me now. "No, please."

"Yes," Ivan says as Francie sucks my other nipple. "I'm going to fuck your mouth. And then I'm going to fuck your ass." I moan and try to move away. His mouth lowers to my nipple.

"While Ivan fucks your ass, you're going to fuck me with your tongue until I come all over your face. And then I'm going to come again on that little boy pole of yours, before you lose it."

This is no longer even a little pleasant. I'm frightened and I'm trapped. But somehow I feel the anticipation of what's to come. It's tearing me apart. Their touches on my body are driving me wild, my dick hard and still stuck between my legs uncomfortably. My nerves are firing throughout my body but they don't seem to have a focus.

They continue to touch me but now guide me to my feet, taking me to the circular hassock at the end of the couch. They seat me on it, each holding my arm nearest them and, at the same time, my breasts -- my nipples. Linda slides in between Ivan and me almost as if he was being cut out.

The way she holds my biceps hurts, her fingers digging into my flesh. I wonder still again if what I've done was really this bad.

"Now, my sweet," she says. "Your initiation into real womanhood."

She is pushing me down onto my back with Francie's help and I can't free my hands to stop myself. I'm frightened and look from one to the other. I'm sure my fear is in my eyes.

They've laid me down on my back, my head back to the edge of the hassock. I close my eyes and feel, even more acutely, their hands play on my naked front. I try to twist, putting one leg over the other, but they won't allow it and they are strong enough to hold me where I am.

I hear myself moan when Francie's hand begins to stroke the inside of my thigh. I clasp them tightly together but it really doesn't help. I'm losing myself in this. In another circumstance, I think I could enjoy it. Being forced makes it less fun.

"Come, my darling," Linda hisses near my ear. "You might as well relax and enjoy it. It's going to happen with or without your help. Open your eyes now."

They are clenched tightly closed as if I can keep it all from happening if I don't look.

"Open your eyes now, Amy," Linda says more harshly. I don't. "Right now!" It's a command. I open my eyes and wish that I hadn't.

Ivan has stripped and stands above my face as I lift my head a little. My head now is almost between his knees. All I can really see is the look on his face. One of lust and enough of a grimace that I wonder if it is cruelty. But that is beyond my primary focus. His dick is between me and his face, standing out from his body at a 90 degree angle. It throbs with his excitement and appears to be very hard.

It's not overly big around, only a little more than my own now. But is very long. At least 9 inches with its wet head just peeking from the loose skin of the hood. He's uncircumcised. I've never seen anyone who wasn't circumcised.

Francie's hand is between my legs, rubbing the inside of my thigh. I gulp through my dry mouth but I can't take my eyes from it, like a cobra with a mesmerized rat. And I'm the rat.

"Ah, the perfect angle," he says as he lowers himself to his knees. Sitting back, he kisses me sensually on the lips, his tongue delving into my mouth, my view of his strong neck. Both his hands take my breasts roughly and knead them until it is almost painful before easing, then repeating the action.

God, I'm getting turned on and I can't. I just can't. It can't be possible. But I'm breathing hard and answering his probing tongue, circling it with my own.

"She's ready," he declares as he straightens from my mouth. Then he rises onto his knees and I see that his dick is lined up with my face.

His hands wrap in my long hair, pulling my head back around the edge of the hassock. It's almost impossible to keep my mouth shut.

"Now open, baby," he says softly. "Kiss it for me. Kiss it now." He's still whispering. When I open my eyes now, all I can see is his balls hanging beneath that long tool. It seems much shorter from this perspective. I know what he wants but I can't bring myself to it. "Please kiss it."

It touches my lips and I shudder. The other time, the guy I was with only wanted to suck me and then for me to fuck him. I remember those long years before to that picture that started this whole thing. But I don't really remember when I'd been fucked. This is different. Completely different. I know I've never sucked another man and I don't want to now.

"Kiss it, Amy," Linda urges. "Kiss it or you'll be punished. And if you cooperate, you will earn a lot from me. More than you can imagine."

I wonder what she could possibly be saying but for some reason the combination of threat and promise make the idea more palatable, more possible. I shape my lips and kiss it and Ivan shudders. I feel the wetness of it on my lips.

"Lick your lips, Amy. Lick your lips," she almost whispers. I do, as much to try to alleviate my dry mouth as to do her bidding. It tastes salty. Not unpleasant but still. I don't want to do more.

"Lick it, sweetheart," Ivan says softly. "Lick it nice for me." I shake my head. Then I feel Linda's hand on my nipple. She has it firmly in her grasp.

"Lick it like he says, Amy. Right now." She pinches my nipple until I clench my eyes with the pain. I shake my head with the pain and know I can't get out of this situation. I feel so totally helpless.

"All right!" I finally almost scream and immediately her fingers loosen. Opening my eyes again, I see that he is holding it close to my lips and I extend my tongue to lick the head now.

"Oh, yes," he moans as he moves it around on my tongue. I know what's to come and I know I can't fight it. Linda will just make it more painful for me if I resist.

"Good girl," she sighs. "Good girl." She says it as if I were a tiny youngster. "That's it. Keep it up."

I lick around the head, pausing at the little hole in the tip. His hand has skinned the cloak back from the tip and it flares like a mushroom. It's purple with his swollen need.

"Now take it in your mouth," he says in the same soft voice. "Just a little. Softly. Easy now." I let it slide past my teeth. It's not very big around but I can see that so much of it is still there. His hand is wrapped around it and still a couple of inches separates the hand from my lips. "That's it, baby. Just a little. Take it in."

I swallow hard from my dry mouth, my throat clenching tight in this unnatural position. Linda's fingers are still touching my nipple but they are very gentle and loving, inflaming it instead of hurting it. Francie's hand is between my thighs, softly kneading the skin.

"A little more, now," he says as he moves it further into my lips. "Shield your teeth with your lips. Yes. That's it. Nice. Good." His hand and my lips meet. My tongue can move around on the shaft and I see that it makes him shudder. He moves back out somewhat, then slowly back in to the fingers again.

"Now, Amy," he says and I can feel a change coming. "I want you to suck on it. Okay? Just suck."

I know that I must but it takes a second. I swallow again. Yes, I can do it. I suck gently.

"Ah, yes," he says louder, impassioned. "That's it. Yes. That feels so good." I shut my eyes and time my sucking to his in and out movements., mixing them from sucking on the in stroke to sucking on the out stroke. Yes, this is going to be all right, I think.

This time when I open my eyes I see that he's let go of it now. I feel his hands go instead to my breasts with loving movements. He's moaning with his movements.

More than half the long tool is going into my mouth on the in stroke now.

"Now more, baby," he says sweetly, softly squeezing my full breasts. "I won't keep it in for long so don't panic. Okay?"

This time when he pushes in, he keeps going until I feel the still dry skin past where it has been in my mouth before and I swallow again. When I do, I feel my throat clasp around the head at the back of my mouth. He immediately pulls back out as I start to gag. I control it.

This time I know what to expect and as his stroke extends into my mouth, I don't swallow. But I feel the still dry skin again and feel it enter the tighter space of my throat for a split second before withdrawing. It's all right. I CAN do it.

This time, when he comes in faster, I feel his pubic hair against my lips and his testicles against my nose before he pulls back out. I took it all! I suck it as it retreats to my lips and nearly slips out.

Immediately, it returns, the pubic hair is pushed hard against my lips and I can feel his cock well into my opened throat. He pulls out faster. I moan around it.

"You little cocksucker," Linda says rather sweetly, a smile in her words. "I knew it." I don't know whether it's a strange kind of praise or another in her endless string of sarcasms. But, without a doubt, I am a cocksucker now.

He speeds up his strokes, his hands moving more on my breasts, perhaps a little more roughly. I have to work very hard not to think of my own bent dick, bent and painful in its hardness.

"Oh, yes, yes, yes. Oh, fuck. You're so good. Yes. Yes." I can hear his climax in his voice.

I actually moan with the loss of it when he pulls free of my mouth.

"Now," Linda says as I feel her pull my arm roughly, turning me onto my stomach. I roll onto my other arm for a minute before I can get it out from under me. Francie immediately grabs it by the wrist as my legs fall off the side of the hassock.

In shock, I look behind me and see Ivan lift the back of my skirt and throw it above my ass. He grabs the side of my exposed panties and easily snaps the material at my hip. The rest of the destroyed article drops down my other leg. I can feel the material burned spot on my waist where it was ripped apart.

Clearing his throat grossly, he spits and I watch it fall onto my naked ass. He does it again and I feel it roll down the sensitive skin.

"No!" I exclaim but it doesn't matter. He aims his purple head between my legs and I feel it pushing between the cheeks of my ass. I try to straighten up and am held down by the two women at the same time that he roughly pushes my legs apart.

Then he presses harder and it feels like the worst shit I even had to take.

"Relax, sweetie," he says, the lust in his voice plain. He's not gentle now. I feel it press harder and try to relax my sphincter, knowing that it only hurts worse if I'm tight like this. But it doesn't slow him. He presses harder through the slippery mucus he's deposited there.

I'm going insane with the pain for a moment, tossing my hair wildly and silently screaming, not loading the scream with the breath I can't seem to gain. Then, as if that were all it was waiting for, I feel the head of his cock gain entry and the pain recedes to more manageable levels. It's still there but now it is like taking a shit you can't get rid of. I shift my legs as I might to help in ridding myself of this turd.

I hear him sigh. "God. Tight." He's moaning the words. "God. So tight."

He presses forward again and the pain returns somewhat but it's different. He begins to rock in and out. I can feel it gaining further entry to me. Further and further. Pressing against my prostate. Rubbing it. I'm breathing very hard now, searching for enough air to survive. My hands are tightly clasped to the edges of the hassock. The women aren't really holding me now.

I can feel his thighs against my cheeks now and know he is all the way inside me. His hands come to my shoulders, pulling himself tighter into me, massaging as he pulls out somewhat, then pulling hard again until his thighs again contact my skin.

It feels good. Oh, it feels wonderful. Oh.

My own dick is pointed toward the floor between my protecting thighs, held in this position because I'm pressed so firmly against the side of the hassock. Pumped into the side of it actually. Over and over. Wonderfully pressed into it.

God, I can feel him deep, deep in my insides. His cock fills me completely. Wonderfully. "Oh, yes," I scream now. This time it is aloud. "Yes!"

I feel his body lose coordination as his climax is pulled out of him. I thought it couldn't get any better than those last few minutes. But now I feel his hot seed shoot deep into my insides, far past where his hardness extends. That's all it takes. All I can stand.

My back arches and my eyesight loses coherence. My blood roars through my ears. And my orgasm wracks my body. I can feel it surging out of me in thick waves as my body clenches with it. I don't remember anything like it in my life.

He pulls out most of the way and plunges back in with a loud moan, then spews again inside me. He does it once more before his body relaxes around my back.

"Oh, my god," he moans through his quickened, deep breaths. "Unbelievable."

He pulls back then, still holding my shoulders, until I feel him slowly retreat from my asshole. My body responds to only the last inch, finally expelling him and letting me sink into the hassock. I think I'm going to pass out here with it.

"I can hardly believe it, ladies," Ivan says. "I really think that was the best fuck I ever had." He laughs. "I know it was the tightest."

"Come back around here, Ivan," Linda says. "I want that hard again."

"Oh, baby. I don't think that's possible. At least not for a while." Linda sighs, the displeasure cutting through my silky blue afterglow now.

"Then, dammit, help me out," Francie's voice says near my head. "C'mon, guys. Help me pull her down a little."

I feel Ivan's strong hands on my waist then, lifting a little and pulling me back until I am solidly on my knees and only my breasts and shoulders still rest on the hassock. I feel movement but I'm still in a haze.

"Okay, sweetheart. Time for your new girlfriend."

I open my eyes and see that Francie is sitting on the hassock in front of me now with her skirt pulled up around her waist. I can see the considerable wetness glistening in the thick mat of hair between her legs. When I lift my head, she slides her middle beneath it, her legs over my arms, trapping them.

Leaning on one elbow, she pushes my face down between her legs roughly, shifting and squirming until my mouth is in the folds of her labia. She is very strong smelling.

"Now stick that beautiful little tongue out there and lick up all that nice girl come." Though I'm exhausted, I can do nothing but hope that I can do it quickly so I can rest.

She leans back further, making herself more accessible, as my mouth lowers to her nether lips. Her center is bucking wildly by the time I finish licking her out, from deep inside her cunt to her asshole and back. When I press my tongue to the underside of her large clit and clamp it against my upper lip, she can hardly stay on the hassock. When I suck it into my lips and lick it with my tongue tip at the same time, she climaxes terrifically, almost falling off the hassock in her frenzy. It can't have taken 5 minutes.

Carefully now, wanting to get away from my continuing licks, she moves off my arms. I collapse back onto my butt on the floor, my head on the hassock.

I'd like to just sleep for about two days now.

"No, no, sweetie," Linda says. "We have to do some clean up and wake up now."

She guides Ivan into a sitting position under the place where my head had been lying only a second before she had Francie pull me back. I see that, though he is not hard, he is not completely soft either. He must have enjoyed my work with Francie. Sitting on the edge of the hassock now, he helps Linda guide my mouth back onto his cock. His hand on the back of my head, presses down each time he is almost completely out of my mouth. I try to make him come quickly so it will be over. He is very hard again.

"Now, my turn," Linda says. Pushing me back onto my haunches, she turns her back to Ivan and, her skirt hiked onto her hips and panties off, holds his hard dick as she sits down onto it. I watch as that length sinks into her until she is sitting fully on his lap. She lays back against him and kisses him over her shoulder before his hands cup her tits and his middle begins to pump into her cunt. He spreads her legs onto the outside of his, then spreads his own, even further splitting her. Francie nudges me from behind.

I lean forward and begin licking the widely opened stretch of her crack from the pumping dick that pulls her lubrication out with it, up to her clitoris. Each time I do that, her body seems to clench and stretch and cringe and clench again. It's as if she was trying very hard to get her legs back together. Then further separated. Then together. Ivan holds her wide open to my tongue.

I watch her body clench in an orgasm, bounding and bobbing and trying to escape its present fate.

But Ivan holds her breasts and, by them, her upper body. She's still pinned on his cock, pistoning in and out of her slowly. Francie urges me forward again.

This time I gently mouth her clitoris until she is again moaning and cringing. Her movements are driving Ivan closer to his climax.

Carefully, I take my manicured middle finger and press it into his asshole until my knuckle presses against his sphincter. Then I flutter my tongue on her clit while I suck it until it is in my mouth more than an inch. This orgasm overwhelms her.

She screams as if in agony but I don't let go or slow. Her body bounds and clenches but I don't let go.

"Oh, stop!" she screams. "Please, please, please, stop. Oh, god, stop." She's freed her hand enough to push at the top of my head but I still suck and flutter on her clit as Ivan's body clenches in the throes of its own climax. She stops breathing with the orgasm she experiences as he shoots deep into her.



I wake monday morning, trying to find the alarm clock. After I shut it off, I lay back on the pillow, smiling. It had been the first really good weekend I have had in six months.

Linda took me to her bed Friday night after Francie and Ivan left, both of us exhausted. The next morning, we slept in until after noon. She decided we didn't need to bother dressing so we spent the rest of the day talking quietly, reading, and listening to music in our nightgowns. Nice. I made the eggs for breakfast, but that night Linda decided to cook dinner and made one of my favorites. She laughed and talked with me all evening as she hadn't in the six months since ... Well, I never even mentioned that and she didn't either.

Again, she took me to her bed that night and we made love. Falling asleep in each others' arms, she told me she loves me.

We got up Sunday and dressed casually in shorts and tee-shirts for another leisurely day. When she told me we had to clean up, I thought I knew what was going to happen. Instead, though, she pitched in right beside me to wash the two days of dishes, to clean up after Friday night's dinner, and to straighten the house. Together we made beds, vacuumed and dusted. It was really pretty enjoyable.

Best, she seems to have forgotten her sarcasm or, at least, to have put it on hold for the weekend.

That's what I'm lying here thinking about now. Was it a dream or just a respite.

"Get up now and get in the shower," she says from the doorway. I see her smiling in the doorway, wearing one of her pink baby doll nightgowns. Then I realize. I've got a lot to do before I can go to work. I've got to get my hair combed as straight as I can get it and find a good way to hold it back. I have to get the fingernail polish off my fingers and trim the nails.

I leap out of bed and into the bathroom to shower. When I look in the mirror after I dry my hair, it is a frizz of curls around my face and neck.

"Come dress before you do anything else," she says from the other side of the door. I'm used to walking around the house nude, now. Linda's made me do it on and off for six months, particularly the last few weeks as my breasts blossomed. It still makes me nervous though and I really don't have time if I'm going to get to work on time. I rush back out of the bathroom.

I look at the bed where some clothes lay. I don't recognize them.

"I bought you a new suit, sweetheart," she says with a smile of anticipation. She loves to give presents. I see the garter belt, flesh colored panties, and stockings beside the tan suit. I pick up the suit coat and gulp. She's got other plans for me today. I can tell.

The suit coat has wide lapels that taper to two buttons. Normal so far but that's all. I see the tailored style at the waist and the deep darts in the front. It's a woman's suit.

And if I had any doubts, the other part is not a folded pair of pants, as I'd first thought. It's a skirt. I know that nothing I say will matter, realizing that it isn't over yet as I had hoped it might be during the weekend.

"Where are you taking me today, Linda?" I ask as nicely as I can. Work was sort of my break from the rest of my life these last months. Today she obviously had other plans for me.

"Nowhere," she says. I don't understand. She's still smiling. "Today's the day you can stop hiding what you are from the people at the office."

I feel very sad. She's not done with me yet. Now she's ready to extend my humiliation to my office. The last part of my life that's mine. The last cruelty. I hang my head.

"I thought you'd be happy, sweetheart," she says, coming to take me in her arms. "Aren't you?" She looks into my eyes and sees my sadness.

"I thought you liked being a woman now. Don't you."

"Yeah, I guess," I say softly.

"Well, now you're really a woman. I mean, look at you." She puts her hands under my breasts. "You're beautiful. You have bigger tits than I do. You have every bit as good a legs." Her hand goes to my hair. "With the permanent, your hair looks very nice. I'll bet if we just blow dry it and brush it a little, it'll be perfect for the day."

She steps away from me now, holding onto my arms and still looking in my eyes. I have to resolve myself to this. I'm going to my office today dressed in a skirt. No doubt about it.

"Put on your face first," she says, pushing me toward the makeup table. "Remember, daytime its lighter amounts of mascara, lighter colored lipstick, and just a little bit of eye shadow. Okay? I'll go down and make you some breakfast."

She really thinks this is something nice for me! I can't believe it. And she hasn't made breakfast for me since this all started.

With a sigh, I make up as she suggested and approve of the look. Much better than the tart look she has insisted on most of the time at night.

I put on the garter belt and sit on the edge of the bed to put the sheer stockings on. They come up much higher than most and the garter holds at the sides as well as front and back. The panties are french cut and such a light colored material that I can see through them in spite of their fairly substantial nature. I tuck my dick between my legs as I pull it into place.

I look around but don't see a bra. Come to think of it, I don't see a blouse either. I step into the skirt and zip the short zipper. It can't be a 20 inch skirt and shows as much thigh, no much more, than it covers. There are very sensible looking tan pumps that I put on, approving of the two or two and a half inch heels.

"There's no blouse with that suit, baby," I hear her say from downstairs and nod to myself. No use looking any more.

I slip my arms into the suit coat then find that I have to inhale to fasten the button on the inside before I can fasten the outside one. The tailoring pulls in my waist comfortably if a little tightly.

There's a little black ribbon still on the bed. I've seen these but never worn one. It just ties around your neck. Very Victorian. As I tie it, I move to the bathroom mirror to do my hair. First I take the blow dryer and, holding my hair off my neck, dry up under it. Leaning my head forward, I dry the top and front. Then the sides. It doesn't take much since it's been a while since my shower and I didn't wash it really. Just got it a little wet.

Using the brush, I sort of give the chaos of it a bit of order. But the order I establish is full of broad waves and a broad surround of curl. It looks good. I nod.

I start out of the room but remember one of the first things that Linda always insisted on of me when I was dressed as a woman. I push the bathroom door closed and look into the full length mirror. I actually catch my breath at the sight.

I noticed the tailoring of the waist when I put the coat on because I had to hold my breath to button it. And it is as sharply tailored to the waist as I thought. But I hadn't thought what it did to me higher. The front darts and the narrow tailoring pulls my breasts into a very serious cleavage. It doesn't even stop at just being a cleavage but is low enough that the tightly pressed together skin between them shows as a continuing cut. It's too tight to have to worry about a nipple falling out. But there sure as hell is no doubt that there is a female body in this coat.

And if that isn't bad enough, the tail of the coat is slightly long and with the very short skirt, all of about two inches of skirt falls below the bottom of the jacket. No, less than that. And from the skirt's hem, there's nothing but long, very shapely legs. I can't help but smile at the overall effect. This is really a woman!

That damned little ribbon necklace only makes it worse still.

I go down the stairs smiling and into the kitchen.

"Oh, honey," Linda says. "It looks wonderful on you!" Her hands sort of pick at the lapels where they cross each other as if she'd cover more of that deep cleavage for me then pulls at the hem of the skirt without really moving it at all. "You look absolutely devastating!"

Finally, she turns to the stove and pours eggs out of a pan onto a plate. I watch the way her buns, under the baby doll nightgown and around the panties, make a little crease over her thighs. Cute, I think. She puts the plate in front of me with a grin and sits down opposite. My coffee and some toast is already there. I eat as she smiles and watches me, drinking her coffee.

"I wish I could go with you today," she sighs as I eat. "You are absolutely going to knock them dead! I'd love to see the reactions. Just love it!" She's getting all excited. "You'll have to remember every detail and tell me all about it tonight. Okay?" I nod and finish up the last of the toast. I sit still, my heart fluttering with anticipation and dread, as I finish my coffee.

* * *

Now's when it's really scary. I made it through the rush hour traffic with no problem. It's not even hard to drive in high heels. Then I put the car in the parking structure and walked to the door to the office. My key card worked on the front door.

Samantha, the receptionist in the lobby, looked at me the whole time I walked through and into the hallway but she never said anything. That's when I really noticed the way my ass wags when I walk in heels like this. I could feel her eyes on my ass all the way down the hall.

Then I walk past the bullpen where the secretaries all sit. Only Phillis is at her desk so far. She stares at me while I unlock my office door and round my desk. When I do, I see her get up and follow me in. I take a deep breath.

Her eyes are on my cleavage as she speaks to me. "Ah, can I help you?" she asks.

"Hi, Phillis," I say. She's worked right outside my door for the last five years. She knows me as well as anyone in the building. She's flustered.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. But this is Mr. Brewster's office. And I don't know you."

"Sure you do, Phillis," I say, trying to bluster through it. Now she's staring at me. At my face as I try to smile at her.

"Ah," she begins. She doesn't want to make a mistake. "Mike?"

"Yeah, of course, Phillis," I say as if this is the way I look every day.

"My god!" she whispers. She looks around. "My god!" she says more loudly. "Mike! Christ Jesus!" She looks back into the bullpen and takes another step into the room before she closes the door. "Shit, Mike! What are you doing?"

I can only sit there under her intense inspection. Her eyes go to my cleavage and I can't help but squirm.

"Oh, shit, Mike! What ...?" She's staring. "You've got ..." She chokes on the words.

"I've got tits, huh?" I ask. That's obviously what she's looking at. She giggles nervously.

"Boy, I'll say!" Give her points for honesty at least. As if it were deniable. I look down at that marvelous cleavage, sort of picking at the crossover as Linda did earlier with no more result. "Mike? What the hell's going on?"

I shrug. I'd think it was obvious. "Sit down," I finally say. Slowly she approaches my desk and sits down in the chair. She's none too careful with the hem of her dress either. I'm conscious of that sort of thing now. "Call me Amy, okay?" She shakes her head.

For the next few minutes, I tell her a kind of boiled down version of what's been happening to me for the last few months. At least the functional part. Of course, I don't tell her about what caused it or that Linda has forced everything that's happened to me. Just the part about slowly changing my dress and my body with the estrogen. I realize I might as well get this down pat. I'm going to be repeating it several times today, I can see now.

She exclaims some more and shakes her head and mumbles. Then finally she makes her way back to the bullpen. During the next few minutes, I hear a buzz of conversation between Phillis and some of the other secretaries who have arrived now. I hear "Mike" spoken several times. Grinning, I also hear "gorgeous" and "tits" and "skirt" and "hair" as part of exclamations.

One of the girls walks by my office door and almost falls trying to look at me without being too obvious. I sort of enjoy it. When I look up from my calendar, I see two of the other girls on the other side of the bullpen somewhere near their desks, staring at me with open mouths.

At that moment, Carol rounds the corner into my office door with a cup of coffee in her hand. She does a kind of unnerved double take and nearly spills the coffee. Then she sets it down, never taking her eyes off my face and my cleavage. I have her sit down and go through the whole thing again.

I can hardly wait until the guys start to arrive. Carol is in shock as she leaves and I see the other girls giggle and look very strangely at her when she meets their eyes on the way out. She shrugs.

The guys are starting to arrive now and I can hear the girls intercepting them at the edge of the bullpen with whispered, "You're never going to believe ..." and "Mike's ..."

"What the fuck's this I hear ..." Vic says as he turns into my office door and freezes. He stops as if turned into a statue when he sees me. Then he looks at the name on the door. Then he looks at me again. "Hey, I'm sorry. I thought ..." He repeats the whole process. His stare definitely has an object. It's about a foot lower than my eyes. I'm suddenly very glad I don't have one of those trendy glass topped desks or his stare would be much lower than it already is.

"Morning, Vic. What's new?" I say with a smile. I'm starting to sort of get a kick out of this.

"Ahhhh," he begins. I'm starting to think this is the statement of the day. Then he frowns. "Mike?"

I smile. "Of course."

He looks behind himself into the hallway as if he's afraid of being caught talking to me. Like Phillis before, he quickly closes the door. "Mike?"

"Yes, Vic. Mike," I say. "Actually, call me Amy. Please."

"Amy," he states. Then I watch him lose his cool altogether. "Mike, what the fuck's going on? Shit, man. Fuck."

"Just what you see. Do you want the whole story?"

Looking behind him again to ensure the door is closed, he comes and sits down in my visitor's chair. His eyes flash to mine before they drop back down to my chest. Then back again to immediately return. It makes me nervous.

"I gotta hear the whole story." I change the story a little bit for Vic. He is one of my best friends. I tell him a little more of the why's and wherefore's.. When I get through the guts of the situation, he suddenly has a thought, sits back in the chair, throws his head back, and laughs uproariously.

"What?" I say.

"What?" he asks through the tears of laughter he's wiping off. "What? Think about Bledsoe's reaction to this."

For the first time, I do. His laughter continues. Then the intensity of it changes.

"Shit," he almost moans through the laughter. "Now you'll be able to talk to the old lady while you take a piss." God, I hadn't thought of that. Exactly where do I take a piss. I've got to think about that some.

Mrs. Bernice Bledsoe, the owner and founder of our company, is not going to like this, I think. Only our long history together in the company will save me, I'm afraid. I'm still not looking forward to the confrontation.

Finally, Vic's satisfied and, shaking his head, laughs his way out the door and down the hall to his own office.

For the next hour, I try to do my morning things that usually take five minutes while a steady stream of co-workers come in to "see" me and laugh, curse, and leave shaking their heads. Now it's getting old. The explanation is getting perfected and shortened considerably.

Now, each of the secretaries seems to find an excuse to come into my office to ask a question or bring me something or something. They each want a close look. The buzz continues in the bullpen, joined now by the guys. Even Maxine Tarlow, who usually doesn't talk to anyone on an average day, is in the bullpen chattering with the best of them. They've all got theories.

There's a lot of talk about transsexuals and transvestites and gays and what is and what isn't. The atmosphere is highly sexually charged all around me. Talking sex, turns you on. It's a proven fact.

My telephone rings and I answer it.

"Mike?" Bernice's recognizable voice says. "I need to see you before the staff meeting. I've been hearing rather disturbing things this morning. Well, anyway. Can you come in?"

"Of course," I say before I hang up. I get my note pad and a pen before I get up and head for my door. Now I take a double take. This is the first time they're really going to see me today. This ought to be interesting.

I take a deep breath and march into the bullpen aisle. I've got to walk the length of it exposed completely. It's not too bad, I think, nearly at the end of the aisle. Every eye is either on my front as I approach or on my ass as I walk by. The eyes are quite big and the mouths are invariably open. I think I'm going to make it.

"Fuck me, Mike!" I hear Vic from halfway back down the aisle where I passed him a minute before. "You've got gorgeous legs and a great ass, too."

The girls giggle nervously and several of the guys add similar comments, complete with wolf whistles. I decide I better not be sensitive about the whole thing. I turn around at the end of the aisle and flip Vic the bird with a smile. Then I turn around and flip the back of the short skirt at him and go on. Everyone bursts into laughter now.

I knock on Bernice's big office door. Not for the first time, I think this is ridiculous. A four foot double door, 10 feet tall and about three inches thick. An intimidating door if there ever was one. You really expect someone important to be behind it and, I guess in this case, there is. At least as important as our office gets. I hear her "come in" barely, from the other side of the door. I open it.

I look at her diminutive person behind the very large desk. I know, from experience, that she has to have a little six inch footrest under the desk so her feet can touch down from the overly high chair, the back of which towers over her. She rarely stands up to talk to anyone unless, for some reason, she's trapped into it.

Towering at about 5 feet tall or less, she is still perfectly proportioned and as well appointed -- clothing, makeup and hair -- as money can make possible.

Now, she is concentrating on something on her desk. I walk toward the desk through the thick carpet without her head lifting. She is, as I'm constantly reminded, always completely self- possessed. Finally, as I stand before the desk, she looks up at me, her mouth open with her welcome or comment or whatever it had started out to be.

Her first focus is at her eye level. My chest. It trails down to the short skirt and then slowly back up to my face. I try to smile but it really is a little hard.

She shuts her mouth. Then nods. "That's what I heard," she says.

"I'd be a bit surprised if anyone in the surrounding 10 blocks hadn't heard," I say, trying to make the best of it.

"I can understand why." She smiles and, like many others this morning, shakes her head. "I don't know whether to applaud or be very upset. God damn it, Mike! You're prettier than I am. And that really pisses me off."

I laugh out loud. It's the first time I've ever heard her cuss when she hadn't been drinking hot toddies or martinis for several hours. She does that at the annual Christmas party and that's it.

"I doubt that, Bernice."

"Well stop doubting. I couldn't any more wear that outfit than stand on my head for the morning. For one thing, I don't have enough up here," she pushes up her bosom, "to keep that jacket closed. And the skirt wouldn't do a thing for me."

She gets more serious and gets up from the high chair to round the desk to me, really looking me up and down thoroughly. I feel like I should turn and do, to her approval.

She takes my hand then and leads me to the deep leather couch against one wall of the office. I've never seen anyone sit on it before. I sort of perch on the front edge, careful to keep my knees tightly together.

"So tell me about it," she says leaning her head against her hand and relaxing into the couch. "I mean everything. The real skinny."

I do for the next 45 minutes without losing her interest for a moment.

"Where to from here, Mike?" she finally asks.

I shake my head for a moment. "I don't know, Bernice." I think about this and realize what Linda is thinking. "I don't know how, but I think Linda wants it to last. I'll go along with her in whatever she wants."

She nods then. "For what it's worth, Mike ... I mean, Amy -- I'm going to have to get used to that, I see -- For what it's worth, I don't particularly like Linda's methods but I do like the results." She looks at me hard for several minutes. "And I think you do, too."

She stands up then and watches as I get up with her.

"Amy." She's got it now. "I'm going to be watching how you handle this very carefully. There's good and bad in that. Don't disappoint me. Okay?"

I smile weakly and nod.

"Tell everybody staff meeting in 15 minutes, okay?" I am dismissed. She stands with her arms crossed under her breasts, watching me as I go to the door and leave.

As I pull the big door closed and make my way down the center aisle again, I stop. Everyone is here, smiling and looking at me.

"Staff meeting in 15 minutes." Everyone begins to scramble for the materials they'll need for the meeting. Finally, it's broken up and people aren't just staring at me.

In the next 15 minutes, I put together my reports before going to the conference room. Most everyone but Bernice is already in the room and greeting me in various ways. Several are downright obnoxious. Then the door closes solidly and Bernice, in her no nonsense manner, walks to her place at the side of the table. She motions to me.

"Sit next to me, Amy," she says. "First item of business," she announces. "If anyone hadn't noticed before, our friend Mike is now a very thorough-going woman. Her name is Amy.

"I'll expect everyone at this table to address her as Amy and to treat her as a lady. If I hear any different, you can start packing some boxes because sex discrimination and harassment is not tolerated in this company and never will be. Is that understood?" She looks around the room at everyone in the way she has perfected to do that. Only Vic, who can get away with it, looks other than contrite and compliant.

"Vic," she says with a grin. "I really should have fired you five years ago."

He looks totally taken back. "What did I do?" he says in a stage innocence.

"Just see that you don't," Bernice says into the laughter.

I sit back into the soft conference chair, making sure my legs are crossed and my skirt is as low as I can get it, and get ready for the meeting. That takes up the rest of the morning, as usual on Monday.

By the end of the meeting, it's as if there was nothing unusual.

And then I feel the need to visit the bathroom. Immediately, I turn around and return to the conference room and just catch Bernice.

"What should I do about a bathroom, Bernice?" I ask.

"I don't see the problem," she says.

"I'm biologically a man but I'm dressed as a woman and feel like a woman. If I go in the men's room, it's hard to tell what the outcome might be."

"I see," she says. Then she thinks for a minute. "Tell you what.

"First, you're a woman. You use the women's room. But everyone knows about before. How about you just make it real obvious where you're going and then if the girls don't want to go in there while you're there, they have the choice. Okay?"

"That's fine with me. Thank you." I turn and head for the girl's room, walking through the middle of the bullpen to get there.

When I go into the room, I see that one of the girls is in front of the mirror with a lipstick but it doesn't look like anyone is in the stalls. She knows me and doesn't seem affected. I go in the first stall, pull up my skirt and down my panties and relieve myself. I reverse the procedure before I flush and leave the stall.

As I wash my hands, I look critically into the mirror and straighten some curls. Later I'll have to replace the lipstick I've worn off. I fix a small spot that's crept over my lipline a bit. As I stand there, four of the secretaries come into the room chattering. They see me but they don't slow. Two go straight to the stalls and the other two to the mirror beside me.

One asks me where I bought my suit and I have to tell her Linda bought it and I'll have to ask. They understand. One of the girls coming out of a stall, still has her skirt up to her hips, pulling her blouse down, as she walks to the mirror.

I think I'm accepted.

* * *

When I return to my office, Vic is sitting in the visitor's chair doodling in his notebook. I shut the door behind me.

"Went to the little girls' room, huh?" he says with a silly grin. I nod. "How was it? I mean, was Phillis in there with her skirt over her head or something? Maybe Sam. Shit, that'd be something. I'll bet she's got a cute little ass."

"Just a couple of the other secretaries," I answer. "Sorry."

"Hey, I know," he says in a confidential voice. "You can tell me which of the girls aren't wearing panties. Then I'll know which ones to watch, okay?"

I just laugh. "You'll never grow up, will you Vic?"

"Hey! That's grown up."

I walk to the side of my desk in front of him and look down. "Besides this adolescent need for knowledge, what can I do for you?"

"You're doing it right now," he says as his eyes rove up and down my body. "God, I can't believe it. One day my funny little buddy. The next day, a beautiful chick with a set of knockers to die for." I look down at the cleavage the jacket forms.

"Yeah. This coat is outrageous, isn't it?"

"Outrageous!" he agrees. "Come here a second." He motions me toward him and leans forward in the chair. I take a step forward and his hand comes out and snags the single button of the front of the jacket.

"Vic! What are you doing?" I whisper, not wanting the whole office to hear.

"I've got to see what that coat is covering up." He unbuttons the button. Luckily the other, interior button holds it closed still.

"Vic! Good god!" I don't react fast enough and he undoes the interior button as well. I just catch it before he can open it.

"Ah, c'mon, Mike. Christ. How many times have we sat around in some little dive and looked at the chicks. Speculating on what they were wearing or trying to get a peek up their skirts or whatever. Now you've got it and aren't going to show your old buddy?"

I just look at him, my arms holding the jacket closed.

"Are they real, Mike? I mean, are they like silicone implants or fake or what?"

"No. They're real. Linda's been giving me estrogen for months and they grew."

"Nipples and everything?" I nod and smile as his dirty grin broadens. "Are they sensitive? Like a girl's?"

"Yeah. They are."

He looks around. His bargaining look. Searching for a trade.

"Listen. I'll give you the Barnes deal if I can look at them. Okay?"

"The Barnes deal?" He barely aced me out of the deal in the first place. "You'd give it to me for just that? No strings?"

"Yeah. You got it."

"You'll have the file on my desk this morning?" He looks through the papers he's holding under his pad on his lap and pulls one out. He drops it on the near edge of my desk. There it is.

"Barnes will like working with you a lot better than me anyway," he says. "Actually, I was going to give it to you before. But now it's a deal." He smiles at me and I can only sigh. I put my hands down to my sides.

His lewd smile fills his face as he reaches out to me and, as if he's opening a Christmas present, lifts one side of the jacket. Then he lifts the other side and slowly spreads them until I feel the cool air of the room on the outsides of my breasts where they have sweat under the jacket's material.

"Fuck me, Charlie," he sighs. "You've got the best set of tits I ever saw." It makes me smile. My nipples have hardened to little knots under his scrutiny. One hand pushes the coat out and finds my naked side. Then the other does the same thing.

"Vic, I don't think ..." I start but I stop when his fingers close over my distended nipples. "Vic," I whisper as my hands go to his arms to push him away. I can't get a good angle though. He just looks into my eyes and my open mouth where I am trying to draw enough air to sustain me now. "Vic."

His hands quickly return to my side and he pulls me toward him. I catch myself before I fall over him, by putting one knee in the chair between him and the arm. His tongue licks my left nipple. It's like fire and though it burns brightly in the one spot, remnants of it stream through my body.

"God, you do like that, don't you?" I can only nod. He kisses the skin between my breasts and then presses them to the sides of his face. I can hear him mumble but the sound is buried in the skin. He moves to the other nipple and sucks it hard into his mouth for a moment, his tongue playing on it inside his mouth. It feels wonderful and I'm breathing very hard now.

He sits back away from me then and I blush at the way he's looking at me, his smile spreading.

"Just one more thing I've got to know," he says. His hands slide down my hips until he reaches the hem of my short skirt. I start to step away as his hand lifts it but he catches me with one hand and pulls it up to my waist. "Cute panties," he says softly.

He holds onto the waistband and hem of the skirt with one hand while the other touches the silky front of the panties. His fingers move down to my tummy through the material and then to the junction of my legs. His fingers trace the bent top of my dick down between my legs. Low, between my legs, he pulls the material aside and my partially hardened dick falls out in his hand.

"There he is!" he exclaims. "I was afraid there for a minute that there was nothing at all left of the old Mike." He laughs.

There are two taps on my door that attract our attention to it as it starts to open. Thank god for those two taps. I stand free of him and turn my back to the door. I clasp the front of the jacket together and quickly button the outside button, covering myself. The skirt has fallen back into place as I walked around the end of my desk and quickly slide into my chair under it.

"Amy?" a voice says before I round my desk. I know I'm blushing as I sit and turn to look at her. "Oh, Vic! I'm glad you're both here."

He quickly stood up to allow her to sit in the chair. Then he pulled the other chair from its place behind the door and sat down as well.

"I see you've already given her the Barnes file as I asked," she said. I looked at Vic and saw his coy grin. Hell of a deal he gave me. He didn't even have the grace to look embarrassed. "Fill us in, Vic."

"Okay. First, you both know that William Barnes is one of the biggest publishing houses in the country. Seventy plus titles a year. And now he's getting into audio, CD-ROM, on-line services, and all the other popular areas of publishing. A few weeks ago, he began working on some ties with several newspapers for use on the on-line services. We're helping in that." He grinned.

"What you may not know is that Barnes, while being among several large publishers, is easily the biggest pornographer in the country. Five magazines, video tapes, adult stores, and an assortment of other activities. Now he's spreading these activities to the computer networks and direct sales on CD's through the computer magazines. I know of three bulletin board systems he operates that specialize in this form of entertainment. But I'm sure that's just the tip of the iceberg.

"The contract to help him with the 'legitimate' enterprises is fairly good. Nothing particularly outstanding, of course. What I think we can help with more is this other, more secret area of his interests." He shifts uncomfortably.

"Unfortunately, he is not much affected by anything I've said to him. He's not the least interested in anything a guy has to say to him." He looks at me now. "And the point of this trade in the file. He is greatly affected by women. The more exotic and exciting, the better."

Now he's looking at me with that grin again.

"There is no woman in my experience as exotic and exciting as Amy," he says. "You're a natural."

"I agree," Bernice says. "Amy? Anything you need to help with this, just tell Phillis. If there's any problem, tell me and I'll smooth the ways. Okay?"

I can only nod.

She stands and goes back to the door. "You two be careful," she says. "You never know who might come in the door."

I know she saw at least a little of what was going on now. I wasn't sure before. I blush as she closes the door behind her.

"Deal, huh," I say to Vic.

"Hey! It worked didn't it." He laughs.



I spent the rest of the day going over the Barnes file until I knew every detail. Then I called and made an appointment for the next day -- actually night since the only time he had available is tomorrow night. But I'll get a free dinner out of it anyway.

I did get an invitation to tour his facilities during the day though he won't be available. His special assistant will take me around.

I have the feeling that I am very much going to be on display all tomorrow so I'll see what Linda has that I can wear during the day tomorrow and I made a date with Phillis to go shopping in the afternoon so I'll have something for the evening.

As I pull into the driveway, I'm just glad to have made it through the day and that I'm home at last.

"Linda?" I call as I go through the front door.

"In here," she calls from the living room. When I walk through the door, I'm startled. She smiles as I see her. She's been busy.

Her hair is newly done and looks wonderful. I tell her that. She's also dressed in what has to be a new outfit. It's a lightweight blue chiffon material with puffy sheer long sleeves and a very low cut front that shows her off beautifully. The flounced skirt is the same material and short as all the things she likes seem to be. Blue eye shadow makes her blue eyes even bluer.

"Shopping?" She nods.

"And wait until you see what I bought for you." She doesn't even let me sit down but leads me upstairs by one hand. She leads me into her room -- what used to be our room and I see a white dress and some other material on the bed but she shoos me into the shower.

When I come out, she's sitting on the edge of the bed waiting for me.

"You're going to love this," she says. She indicates I should sit down on the other side of her and then starts feeding me pieces of clothing. First a lace garter belt and very light colored stockings. I put them on.

Then she hands me the white, lacy teddy and I get into it. It has spaghetti straps and really doesn't hold my breasts at all well. Really they're loose inside the lightweight material. It does have a little elastic in the waist and snaps firmly between my legs. As I start to tuck my dick back, she tells me it probably isn't necessary and that the front is firm enough to hold me tightly. It does look okay.

Then she gives me a fairly sheer half slip that's almost useless. It barely covers my lap. Then she bunches the dress so she can guide it over my head and helps me find the long sleeves. After my head comes back out, I see that it is pure white lace from top to hem. The lace is in little rose patterns about two inches across and all intricately connected. Only the neck seems to be any thicker and this only to allow the few buttons up the back to have some place to be. The high, frilled collar stands up high under my chin. The frilled cuffs fall over the back of my hands.

I can't help but laugh. The dress has the longest skirt I've seen Linda pick out. To the top of my knees. But, of course, the entire thing is completely see-through lace. No lining, no nothing. If I weren't wearing the half slip, I would practically be naked. And without the teddy, I WOULD be naked.

She hands me the white patent shoes that are pointed toed but, behind the toe part, only a pair of thin leather thongs that go around my foot. A tiny gold slide tightens them across the instep. They are actually delicate. The heel is normal at the top but as it tapers down quickly until it almost disappears. The point of it can't be more than a quarter of an inch across. They're about four or four and a half inches tall, making them the highest I've ever worn.

She takes me to the makeup table and I see just how Victorian beautiful the dress really is with the high lace making my neck look like it is about a foot long. She says she got the idea when she saw me with the little black neck ribbon this morning.

She applies a heavy coat of green eye shadow, dark mascara and pencil. My eyes absolutely leap out of my face. Dark red lipstick does the same for my lips and blush brings out my cheek bones. Darker brownish blush hollows my cheeks.

A cameo pin at my throat seemed to top the outfit. But then she brought out a small gold chain and I knew this would make it perfect. An ankle bracelet with a tiny cameo on it. I'd never felt so feminine.

A quick brush of my hair and we walked to the car.

Linda drove and tonight, I knew, was going to be different. She drove directly to the club.

The club is where all our personal friends go and most of my business contacts. Bernice belongs as does Vic and most of the other people in the office above secretaries.

"Another coming out party," I sigh when we arrive.

"No, no. Friday was your coming out party. And today was truth day at work. Now it's truth time for the rest of the people we know. I can hardly wait to hear about your day at work," she held up her hand, "but wait until dinner. We can talk all we want then."

She leans over and gently kisses me on the lips and then backs away to open her door. I get out as well.

Negotiating my way across the parking lot, up the stairs at the front of the club, and through the lobby is more than a little difficult on the high heels but I made it. She guided me toward the dining room.

Morris leads us to a table by the windows overlooking the tennis courts and almost bursts with excitement as he holds our chairs for us. We order drinks and look at the menu for a few minutes.

When Morris brings back the drinks and introduces Dave, our waiter, we order. Linda asks him to hold off until we are almost finished with our second drink and he agrees.

"Now," Linda says with a broad smile. "Tell me all about your day."

"Wait," I say. "First I have to clear some things up. Linda, what's going on?"

She looks at me like she couldn't possibly understand. "Going on? Nothing. We're just going out to eat."

"No, I mean Friday night you set me up. You invited two people I'd never met to the house and systematically raped me for four hours. It was just the culmination of what's been going on for six months.

"All during the weekend, you treated me like you did before the pictures came in the mail. I felt like we were equals and, at least, friends again. Almost like we were husband and wife again." Looking down at the dress I'm wearing I think how silly that statement is. "At least like college roommates or something.

"Then, today you give me no alternative but to go to work dressed as a woman. I didn't know whether I was going to get fired, cause a riot, or what."

"Did you get fired?"


"Then that was all right. And didn't you enjoy the weekend?"

"Yes. I did."

"Now the big one. Did you enjoy Friday night?"

I hesitated for quite a while. "Yeah," I sighed. "Most of it. Yeah."

"So what's the problem?"

"Linda?" I say exasperated now. "For the last six months you've treated me like your worst enemy. You've treated me worse than you would a dog. I feel off balance. I don't know what to expect next. It's driving me crazy."

She looks at me with a funny smile on her face. She looks for a long time, even taking a long drink of her martini and giving me a chance to do the same thing. Then she starts to talk to me.

"Amy," she says pointedly, using my new name. "Six months ago, I was married to a guy named Mike. And suddenly I realized I didn't know him and from what I found out in those days, I didn't like him either.

"So I set out to make some changes. I loved you enough to make the effort. To make some basic changes in you that I thought would make it right again. I know I was hard on you. The Tampax," she looks at her hands. "Maybe that was a little too rough. But I succeeded.

"Amy, I remade you both mentally and physically into something we could both understand and control."

I can't keep from feeling resentment. And I certainly don't feel safe and secure though the way I'm dressed now gives me less concern than it would have a week ago.

"What's next, Linda? Do we go back to the Tampax and the made up housework and the little humiliations?"

"No, sweetheart. That's over now. I've done what I intended and it wouldn't serve any purpose. It also had the value of getting me over my anger. I was very very angry six months ago."

"I noticed," I say. She laughs.

"At least now you know how it feels to be cheated on and what it feels like to work for someone all day without their even noticing or caring. You know what it feels like to be walked on and humiliated." She grins. "You even know what it feels like to get fucked. Literally."

"And what about this, Linda," I ask, gesturing toward myself, my clothes.

"I think you make a much nicer woman than you did a man," she says. "And I think you know it as well as I do."

I think about it then. I'm not sure yet. But I think maybe she's right. I do like being a woman. It just feels good.

"So tell me about your day," she says. For the next hour and two more drinks, I tell her about everything that happened. It's almost as much fun in the telling as in the doing.

When I notice Vic come through the door into the dining room, I cringe, remembering one thing I didn't tell Linda and that I don't intend to tell her either. Of course, he immediately sees us and comes to the table.

"I don't believe it," he says. "I thought the suit you were wearing today was the most fantastic thing I'd ever seen on a woman. Now I see you in this!"

I grin. Linda says, "You're making me feel very inferior, Vic."

"Never, my sweet," he says as he leans down and kisses her. "You're as gorgeous as always."

He looks back at me. "Who picks out your clothes, Amy? My god that is a sexy thing."

"Linda picked out both the suit and this outfit," I say and he tips a non-existent hat to her. "But you ought to see it all!"

"All? Oh. Oh no. Is this another of those skirts?" I just smile. "Okay, I give up. I've got to see it all. Stand up."

He offers me his hands and raises me to my feet. Then, standing back as far as he can while still holding my hand, looks me up and down with special interest in the skirt and the half slip under it. He keeps shaking his head and his hand has gone weak.

"My god! It's unbelievable!" he exclaims. "Oh and that fucking ankle bracelet turns me on so bad ... I think I'll just have to throw you down on the floor right here."

"I could hear Vic from the lobby," Bernice's voice says from behind him. When she sees me and looks me up and down once, she looks as if she might faint. "My god. I see why he was exclaiming in his typical patois. That dress is absolutely magnificent. Where did you get it?"

"I didn't. Linda got it for me." Bernice notices her then for the first time.

"Oh, darling Linda. How are you tonight? You really must tell me where you are shopping. I understand you bought the suit Amy was wearing today as well." Linda looks pleased.

"I knew that if I came to the club tonight, there'd be at least one beautiful woman I could snuggle up to," Vic says. "Bernice, would you join me?"

She nods. "Safer, Bernice," I say. "Why don't you both join us?"

"Fine. This'll be great! I can play footsy with Bernice like I intended all along, I can look at that fantastic lace dress, and I can hug my favorite girl." He puts his arm around Linda as he sits down at the table next to her. Morris holds the chairs for Bernice and I before asking for drink orders and leaving.

"So, celebrating?" Bernice asks.

"Yes," Linda says. "Amy's first day at work. She's been telling me about it all."

"Quite a shock for us," Bernice says.

"Yeah, to say the least. You go to work on a Monday morning and find that your best buddy has turned into a gorgeous woman overnight. Hell of a deal! And now all the secretaries are jealous when they aren't too busy chattering to get any work done." Everyone laughs.

"And what's worst. My buddy spends half the day in the little girls' room and won't even take pictures for me."

Bernice just shakes her head in disbelief.

"Speaking of the little girls' room, would you excuse me?" she says then. I feel a little silly but her statement reminds me that I have been putting that off as well.

"Would you mind if I went with you?" I ask.

"Here, honey," Linda says, handing me her purse. I know it has some lipstick and a brush in it.

"See what I mean?" Vic says loudly as we walk across the increasingly more crowded room. I shake my head as well, now.

As I walk into the restroom, I look around. I've never been in the women's room here, of course. The men's room is fairly spectacular as bathrooms go. It has a stone wall, washed in water like a waterfall, for a urinal and a couple of kingly seats along with the huge sinks with their gold handles. A king's room in a way. And if that's the king's room, this has to be the queen's.

I don't slow much to look at the accommodations on the way to a stall and neither does Bernice. The stall is very large and completely enclosed rather than simple metal stalls. The plumbing is imbedded in the same kind of stonework that makes up the urinal in the men's. Very comfortable and private.

I do what's necessary and get my teddy, slip and skirt back in place before opening the door. The wall in front of me is a series of inlaid sinks with room beside each for makeup and other necessities. One area is low and has a makeup stool in front of it for major repairs, I'd guess.

The indirect lighting is very bright to allow you to see yourself though it is a combination of fluorescent and incandescent so it seems like daylight. The mirrors extend from the sink level to the ceiling. The end wall, between the stalls and sinks, is all mirror to let you check everything out from top to bottom.

I open the purse and run the brush through my hair a few times to take care of some of the more unruly strands. Just a touch of lipstick takes care of the smears from my drinks. I put the things back in the purse as Bernice comes out of the stall and steps to the sink beside me. She repeats my actions.

"That is one of the prettiest dresses I've ever seen, Amy," she says.

"Thank you," I reply. "Linda's very good at picking out sexy women's clothing."

"Yes. That jacket you were wearing today was spectacular. Very complimentary to someone with the right assets and you certainly seem to have those." She finished her touchups and was looking at me solidly now. "Those are real, I guess. Hard to fake, I know."

"Yes," I assent. "Estrogen pills for the last six months."

"It's odd. I hadn't really noticed. I mean when you were dressing as a man last week."

I nod. "It was getting very uncomfortable to tie them up that tightly though. Particularly during the warm weather."

"My god, I can imagine." She puts her hand to her own ample bosom. "I'd certainly hate to be tied up that way for very long."

The way she is studying me, I know she has another question but I can't guess what it might be. I just wait since she isn't moving to leave.

"I was wondering," she begins. She looks slightly embarrassed. Something I haven't seen from her. I touch the back of her hand and smile. "Okay. I was wondering if you've, you know, had surgery or what?"

"Oh. No. I haven't. I haven't even thought about it."

"Doesn't the estrogen have an affect?"

"Yeah, it did for a while. Really, I guess a long term effect, too." Now I'm embarrassed. I don't know how deeply to get into this.

"I know. This is really none of my business."

"Of course it is. I work for you and you have a right to know." I think though what it is I want to say. "The estrogen," I begin. "First it did away with my sex drive for a while but that seems to have returned. The longer term result may be that my testicles have shrunken and my body doesn't seem to produce very much semen. And, well, my penis is smaller, too."

"Really?" she almost states, surprised. I nod. "Does that make you uncomfortable? I mean, are you worried about it?"

"No," I shake my head slowly. I hadn't really thought about it much but it doesn't bother me now that I do. "No. That's all right. Maybe sort of a small price to pay for all the benefits.

"Benefits. Really? How interesting. What benefits do you see?"

"Well, to an extent, being taken care of. Linda's been doing that. And the clothes. I really like the clothes." I blush for a second at my next thought. "And I like the attention. A lot."

She leans close to me and smiles broadly as she touches the back of my hand softly. "So do I. It's my favorite part of being a woman. Having men look at me and want me."

I smile. She really does understand and doesn't think it's conceited or silly.

"You're a very pretty woman. I'm just a little surprised that ... well, before ... I never noticed that you even had the potential. You weren't a particularly effeminate man." She shifts now and looks a little uncomfortable. "I'm still curious, I'm afraid. And I'll certainly understand if this is too much to ask but ..." She takes a deep breath and presses on. "Would you mind very much if I asked to ... see it? I mean, under your skirt. You know."

"See?" I ask, a bit flabbergasted. I've got to think whether I care or not. Finally, I decide that I don't really care. "No, I guess that would be all right."

"Here, then. Just step back into this stall," she holds my arm and guides me back into the stall. Then she pushes the door shut behind her and sits down on the toilet seat with the lid down. She reaches for the hem of my skirt and lifts it far enough that I can catch it without bending. The half slip is already at the tips of my fingers.

"What nice lace!" she says. "It's not hard and rough like most but it still looks crisp."

I pull the skirt and slip to my waist.

"Oh, you're wearing a teddy. I see. Does that hold you firmly enough?"

"Yes, it seems to and it's much more comfortable than usual. Usually, I have to tuck it back between my legs with panties because the fronts aren't strong enough or big enough to hold me right. This was a special new thing tonight."

"Really? You've worn women's clothing before today?"

"Yes. Of course. All the time but when I'm at work for the last six months."

"Really?" she says, startled. "And all that time with it tucked between your legs?" I nod.

"At first, Linda had me tie it back with a cloth strap."


"Yeah, it wrapped around it a couple of times, went between my legs and then tied around my waist. But then I got used to not getting turned on very often and she decided to try some more revealing clothes that would have showed the strap."

"May I see?" she asks. She seems to be really anticipating this.

I simply spread my legs a little and unsnap the teddy between my legs. The elastic and its natural stretchiness pulls it up. I fall loose.

"Oh!" she exclaims. "It is quite small. Was it always that small when soft?"

"Maybe a little bigger," I say. She touches it and it loses some of its softness. She looks at it in her fingers, turning it from side to side. It's not making it any softer. With a start, I realize that it's quickly getting hard.

"Amazing," she says, looking up at me. "Your nipples are getting hard as fast as this. I guess that's reasonable though. It's the same process." Her other hand comes to my left breast.

"Bernice?" I say tentatively.

"Yeah, I wanted to do this in my office today. But, at the same time, I didn't want anything work related to it. I mean, that would be like sexual harassment. Something I won't put up with in the least in the office."

Now I am hard. In both places. I shut my eyes to feel the feelings of it. Then I feel something else. Her lips on my cock and, at the same time, her fingers tightening on my nipple. Both feel wonderful.

"I just have to do it, Amy. I can't help myself." Her mouth closes over me, sucking it into the depths of it and her tongue moving about on it in a frenzy.

"Oh, Bernice!" I hear myself exclaim. "Oh." The hand that is not holding up my skirt and slip, strokes the top of her head as her head moves in and out. She moves out until it drops from her lips and smiles up at me.

"It's pretty good sized when it's hard," she notes. Her mouth drops back over it and sucks it up as far as possible, sucking hard and moving in and out. Her suction alone would pull my body forward and back. But then she reaches around and puts her hand on my butt and pulls me into her mouth completely. I can feel myself at the back of her throat.

"Oh, Bernice!" I moan. "Look ... ah ... look out. I'm ..." But I don't get it out. The come is pulled from my body, almost as if it is being turned inside out by her suction. And she's squeezing my nipple very hard now and that feels wonderful, too. I can only put my head back with my mouth open wide to try to draw in breath.

There might not be too much, but she swallows every drop before it stops and she sits upright again. She strokes the inside of my stocking covered thighs as she apparently watches it diminish back toward its normal size again. It may have recovered, but I haven't quite yet. I can still just catch my breath.

I put my hand on the back of hers where it still plays distractedly with my nipple, stopping her.

"Thank you, Bernice," I say.

"I had to see for myself," she says. I only nod. I'm not quite sure I know what she had to see but I'm glad she did. "Let me help you with this."

She reaches between my legs, forcing me to spread them somewhat, and gets the back of the teddy. Then she snaps the front and back together between my legs. Finally, she seats my dick in the pouch it forms at the front. Now soft again, it's quite comfortable. And satisfied, I think.

Then she helps me pull down the half slip and skirt, rubbing it where it falls over my stomach and thighs, admiring it.

"I really like that dress," she says. "I'll have to ask Linda where she got it."

When she stands, I bend a little and kiss her lips. "Thank you, Bernice. I liked that a lot."

"Well, maybe it'll make getting through the rest of the evening a little easier anyway." I smile at her thought. I don't really think that's why she did it.

On the way past the mirror, she repairs her lipstick quickly. Then we leave the restroom.

The End

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Once again I would like to deeply thank all the Staff of Sissify for just being there for me and others like me. As I am more or less confined to my house (physical problems), and this service is one of… Read more “justina”

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