A Change of Life

by Paula Mortenson

  

 Chapter One  

I thought that after the life I've led over the past year or so that little would shock me. But after tonight I don't think I'll ever be surprised by anything again. Gramps, my grandfather, my mother's father is a TV!!

Don't get me wrong, he has been fantastic with all of us, especially me but it's hard to imagine how he looks, as a woman, I mean. Mum and Dad, well more particularly Dad were really rough on me when they discovered what I'd been up to and just didn't understand. But Gramps, that's what we call him (or should it be her, now?) sat down with me last night and listened to me. It's the first time that I've talked to anyone else who's a TV but my Grandfather, it's just beyond belief. He was so calm about it. It was as though he already knew, or suspected but I'm certain Mum and Dad have said nothing.

It was just typical of my luck that the fire alarm went off and he came into my bedroom. I was in an absolute panic. I was trying to get my new pink nightshirt off to get out of the hotel but my clothes were on the floor and I couldn't get the buttons undone. Hell, it was gorgeous that pink silky nightshirt and it looked great with my boobs though when Gramps asked whether I was wearing a bra I just couldn't believe it.

I always thought of him as being very moral and judgemental about people, I didn't dare tell him about George, my lover and what we had done together, nor about how my flat mates, Sandra and Melanie have let us use one of the rooms at their flat.

Thank God Mum and Dad didn't find out about that. Mind you, it's their fault, the girls I mean, for introducing me to George in the first place and they did encourage me to flirt with him. Then they plied both of us with drink and they made me wear that outfit which inflamed both of us. No, I shouldn't blame them, I wanted to and that first night was some experience, the first of quite a few nights and I wouldn't have been found out if we hadn't had that lovers' tiff.

It was strange living with two girls but I have two sisters so it wasn't too bad. You learn, they want their privacy and despite my fascination with girls' underwear and clothing I had learned the hard way not to show it. I learnt that lesson after Sam, that's my older sister, caught me borrowing some of Mum 's and her clothing. She laughed to start with but she made sure I did more than my share of chores at home in return for not saying anything to Mum. I am grateful though I had to wash and iron all I borrowed so I've always been smartly turned out. But it got to the stage at home when I was doing all the ironing, both my sisters hated doing it.

Sandra and Melanie were funny at first about taking a male flatmate but they were desperate and my allowance from Dad meant that I was able to offer a bit more than a third of the expenses. I had to, I had been let down on a flat I had planned to share for my second year at university. I needed somewhere to live so we came to an arrangement.

It all started with the Ladies' Night out. I'd been for a drink at one of the local pubs and was feeling a bit sorry for myself. It was the start of a new term and they were piling work on us already. Sandra and Melanie were sat in the kitchen chatting about some great night out they'd had last year and how the girl they'd shared with then had gone berserk, leaping up on stage and pawing the male performers. To be fair she had not been the only one. But the girls were commenting that it was a shame since they couldn't drive they couldn't go this year. Now, of course, I realise they were winding me up to take them. I bit. Then they asked that if I was taking them why I didn't go to the show.

"Well, what would people say about a guy that went to watch male strippers?"

The trap was set.

"No, you could pass easily as a girl. You've got a good figure, you're not too tall and your skin's clearer than most of the girls around here. We could lend you the clothes and things." My indecision was more about the fear of being set up than anything else.

"I wouldn't look good enough to pass."

"I'll show you, now. Sandra, you're about the same size as Paul, sorry Paula, see if you can find what will be needed. I'll see what I can do with his hair. Don't worry. It'll be just a bit of tidying up. No one will notice. When was the last time you washed your hair?"

The next few minutes passed in a whirl. My hair was rinsed, rubbed dry and then combed this way and that before Melanie seemed satisfied. There was a snip here, a snip there, more combing and snipping before she finally stepped back to admire her handiwork.

"Good. That's fine. What have you got there, Sandra? No, Paul, stay where you are. It will spoil the effect if you see before it's finished. Look, we're going to have to undress you. So if you put this scarf over your eyes, it'll make us feel safer."

The girls seemed very adroit when it came to undressing me, so before long I stood in the middle of our kitchen stark naked except for the blindfold. Even without seeing I knew exactly what they were doing, as I had (at home) been wearing some of Mum's underwear. They slipped bikini briefs on me, amidst giggles and some very personal remarks. They quickly worked out that the knickers had more control if worn back to front.

I felt a bra being slipped over my shoulders and there was more giggling as they padded the cups. Next came polo knecked sleeveless top over which was fitted a T Shirt. Suddenly there was a sharp, painful blow to my manhood as my uncontrolled manhood began to grow.

"Nice girls don't do things like that. It will be more painful next time if you can't keep yourself under control. Step into this skirt but you'll have to put the tights on yourself."

The skirt was full and calf length. It had to be brutally belted before the rear fastening could be buttoned. I was guided back to the stool, before what I recognised as a new pair of tights were placed in my hands. My previous experience had taught me the correct way to slip them on. Thumbs down into the toes and draw upward.

"You've done that before. Even I can't get a pair on that easily." Said Sandra as I stood to ease them over my thighs and hips.

"I was in a school play, we all had to wear them. I just remembered, that's all."

"That's a likely story. Now your hair needs blow drying and then just a touch of makeup to finish everything off."

The scarf was whipped from my eyes as I was sat down again and Melanie began to work on my hair. Fifteen minutes of being pulled and blown this way and that followed. When things were to her satisfaction my feet were forced into low-heeled shoes, which had been left by a visitor to a party last term. Sandra attended to lipstick and eye shadow. My out fit was all black, almost a compulsory uniform for female undergrads. The T-shirt had, to my horror, 'GAY FRONT' emblazoned across it, it was only later I found that it had 'GAY BACK' across the rear.

They took me by the arm and led me through to their bedroom, where there was a full-length mirror. I was longing to be permitted that precious peep at the new me but Sandra whipped out a camera to take snap after snap. Firstly on my own, then with Melanie and then even more with Sandra handing the camera to her friend. I was pushed down on their bed to pose for even more pictures and partly ordered and partly cajoled into smiling. All the time I was increasingly desperately trying to catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. The girls were shouting, giggling, laughing, trying to encourage me and enjoying themselves by preventing me from catching sight of myself and into this mayhem there came the sound of the front doorbell.

Everyone froze. They went off to answer the door with the instruction that I was not to leave the bedroom. I listened guiltily at the door, trying to make out who had disturbed us but all the time the mirror was beckoning. My previous, very amateur excursions into femininity hadn't prepared me for the reflection in the mirror. My long hair had been arranged in a fetching 'page boy' style and I simply loved the way my hair flicked as I turned my head. Then horror as I realised the bitches had coloured it. It was blonde. It had been blonde before but now it was several shades lighter. Mind you, it did suit me. They must have used one of those wash in toners with the shampoo. How on earth was I going to be able to go to lectures, tomorrow?

The door opened.

"You like it, then? It's OK now, you can come through."

I stepped forward, ready to blast away at both of them for what they'd done when I realised were weren't alone.

"This is Paula, who's visiting us."

The figure standing there was one of the post grad students who lived up the road. I particularly disliked him partly because he had the confidence with girls that I had always lacked. No, he had the success with girls that I never seemed to have. They always seemed to treat me like an older or younger brother. Girls would chat with me but it never got any further, they went off with other blokes. And then they came back to cry on my shoulder about how they'd been treated and then it would start all over again. NO, Paul definitely disliked George. He was cocky, arrogant and absolutely confident he could get into a girl's knickers.

He smiled at me and continued talking to Sandra. He took no notice of me. Actually, I wasn't sure whether I was pleased or annoyed about that so when Melanie hissed at me from the kitchen it took a moment or two before I reacted.

"He'll be going in a minute. He is a cocky sod, I'd like to see him get his comeuppance."

George left, leaving the three of us together.

"You look super, Paul.er…Paula. There are a few things to work on but there's a fortnight before our girls' night out. I'm sure we can get everything right by then."

There was a silence. I just didn't know what to say. I had questions that I kept to myself but I felt and thought I looked great. But what needed 'working on'? And what was meant by 'working on'.

Over the next two weeks I found out exactly what they had meant. Each evening, after lectures, I had to change to Paula as soon as I got in. At first they helped me with my hair and make up but there was a suggestion here and there and I was a quick study and I was doing everything for myself. To my surprise I found I was looking forward to getting home. Indeed I led a very domestic life and I almost became a TV Cinderella, doing most of the cleaning and cooking. They spent most of their evenings with me, advising and chivvying me towards greater femininity.

 

Chapter Two

Over those two weeks there were several distinctly odd events. It's only now, thinking back that I realise how peculiar and coincidental they were. After a few days Melanie produced a brochure. It had pages and pages of clothes, underwear and other aids for boys who wanted to be girls.

The subject of my shape came up one evening as we were eating dinner. It was "suggested" that I ought to have proper breasts, the experiments with tights, tennis balls and various other things not having been successful. Of course the brochure had just the thing, beautiful silicon boobs and I was subjected to an absolute bombardment until I agreed that I would send for them. There were expensive but it was the beginning of term and my father paid my allowance up front. I left my credit card for one of them to phone through the order. The package arrived during the day and I only got it when it had already been opened so I didn't realise that other things had been ordered, but more about that later. A couple of pairs of shoes turned up, bought by Sandra at a second hand shop in the city and I think couple of skirts and tops came from the same place..

Another strange thing was that George kept on turning up over that fortnight. I was never left on my own with him, for which I was very grateful. But just before the great night out my flatmates disappeared into their bedroom when George was visiting. I was washing up (yet again) and he offered to help with the drying up. He was friendly enough and I had the chance to see him from a different point of view, if you see what I mean. His conversation with me, as Paula, was entertaining and I found myself quite enjoying his company. But how naive I was. I had no sooner turned my back to pick up a dirty dish than there he was, right behind me! Dropping the dish brought Melanie and Sandra dashing from their room, to find us behaving like a pair of guilty teenagers, caught holding hands. I scuttled off to my room so had no idea what was said but Sandra and Melanie gave me a real grilling once I reappeared after George left. I don't know what was worse, the grilling, the beetroot blush that I came out in when he had touched me or the tingly feeling that had made me drop the dish. They went on and on until I confessed that yes, I did now find him attractive ( from an entirely objective point of view, of course) and the electrifying effect of his touch.

The great day eventually arrived. It was a Saturday so no boring lectures or studying. We were going to the early evening performance which started at 6 o'clock. To get there in good time we had to leave just after four.

You could feel the buzz of excitement in the car as I drove us to the theatre. It was only as I was driving in splendid isolation at the front that the penny dropped. My two friends were sat in the back, holding hands. What a fool I'd been. They were a pair! Somehow the fact that they shared a bedroom with only a double bed had never got through to me. They were giggling and laughing together touching each other as only lovers can I felt jealous, left out. Not that I wanted to join them, they certainly wouldn't want me but I didn't have someone to laugh and giggle with.

We parked the car and joined the stream of women and girls heading for the theatre. My initial fears of stepping out for the first time left me as I thought tingly things about George. It must have been a reaction to Sandra and Melanie's mood. We took our seats and then that fear came back as we waited. Surely someone from amongst this mass of females would read that there was a male here. I found it strange that now Mel and Sandy sat either side of me.

"Are you OK, PAULA?" Yes, those words were almost shouted. I did my trick with the beetroot cheeks again. There was a comforting glance from either side of me and suddenly I found my hands being gripped into my lap as my friends each held my hands but each others, too. There was no way that I could escape and as my panic subsided the house lights went down.

The show began with a roll of the drums, loud beaty music blared out and then the stage lit up to reveal six hunky men wearing what I can only describe as G strings. Nothing else and there was very little left to the imagination. They danced in formation and then separately, showing themselves off in a confident cocky way. The noise from the audience was deafening and their behaviour, well, I had never imagined that women could and would behave that way. There were quite a few housewife, middle aged types. They just went wild. They screamed, pointed and made the lewdest comments about what was only just tucked away in those brief G Strings. One by one the dancers made their exit, encouraged by the shouts from the audience and turned their backs (nice bums) and removing and then waving those G strings as they left. It was most frustrating , you never got to see anything as they turned artfully away as they whipped off their covering. As the performance progressed my frustration increased at not getting one single peek.

Each set came and went. After the opening three cowboy look a like came on and their chaps soon disappeared. Following that there were three Elvis' and I am convinced that if it hadn't been for those guitars that sighting that just everyone was longing for would have sent the entire audience over the top. The audience and ME. My excitement was growing and I was totally absorbed, longing for a glimpse of what the performers were so adroitly not showing. I was standing up and shouting and screaming with the best of them. The whole performance was so exciting, so much better that the female strip shows I had ever seen.

The end came only too soon. I stood with Sandy and Mel, yelling and screaming for just one more chance to catch a sight of what had been promised but so artfully never delivered. The irony was that my two friends stood there so as not to appear out of place but I meant every scream, catcall and whistle.

As I drove home, still high and still chattering endlessly about which dancer did what I realised that what I had worked for over the past weeks was over. A sadness enveloped me as I revelled in the events of the evening and I recognized that that I didn't want to leave my new found femininity behind.

I didn't want to go into and face the prospect of returning to boring Paul so I suggested we went out for a drink. There was a pub just down the road from our flat that was not generally frequented by students but was always crowded with our age group but from the town. I don't know how many drinks I had but I was used to drinking beer and that was out so the drinks were ladylike ones that just went straight down. Our conversation was steered towards me, almost like a cross examination in court. It just all came out. How my sister had caught me in Mum's clothes and all the other bits about enjoying wearing women's things. Somehow George was introduced into the conversation and that cross examination started again. What did I think of him. What did I feel about when he touched me at the flat.

Then the direction of the conversation took another bewildering turn as a bit of a party was suggested. They obviously didn't need anyone else but I couldn't be on my own and they were certain that George would be only too delighted to pop round. They were sure he wasn't doing anything else tonight and before I could even think of any objections Melanie went off to find George.

Sandy and I went back to the flat.

"If it's a party you should be dressed for it, especially as it's your first as Paula."

Only much later did I realise that everything must have been planned by my flatmates long before that evening in the expectation that the Girls' Night Out would affect me so profoundly.

 

Chapter Three

"Right, go and run your bath, there's no time to wash your hair."

"But they will be here in five minutes, George only lives down the road."

"They won't be here until ten thirty, we've got three quarters of an hour."

Do you know I just accepted what she said, my brain was still in overdrive from the events and experiences of the evening. How did she know exactly when George would arrive? I was so slow and befuddled. I was in and out of that bath so fast that I surprised Sandra laying out my party clothes on the bed.

There was a black silky cami top, with delicate straps and a matching long jacket in a heavier satiny material. But it was the skirt or rather the lack of it that made my eyes pop. It was a wrap over kilt, only about 18 inches from waist to he. My knees, my thighs would be so exposed! Everything that I had worn to date had covered my knees, making me feel safe but this outfit was the stuff of fantasies. To wear it in front of someone you didn't know, that was different.

As I began to plead with Sandra my eyes focused on the other things laid out on the bed. There was a bra, the like of which I had never seen before but could have dreamed about. It was a basque bra. Strapless, delicately decorated with lace and with boned panels extending below the cups that were to reach to the bottom of my rib cage. A beautiful but biting mistress. Beckoning to me, tempting me were panties similar to those I had recently discarded but now a matching black. Especially made for men like me, giving the appearance of French knickers but with an insert that prevented unsightly bulges. To complete my ensemble there was a garter belt and stockings in American Tan.

"But, but…."

"There's no time to argue. You've left your boobs in the bathroom. Go and get them quickly, you silly girl, we've got to do your make and nails yet."

I dashed off, just like the silly but excited girl I felt. That bra was a tight fit but the effect was stunning and well worth the minor discomfort. Everything fitted perfectly and why that should be, never crossed my mind. I sat on the bed, bare legged while Sandy painted my toe nails and she then moved on to my already shaped finger nails covering them in a pretty shade of pink. They had spent half that morning manicuring and shaping my nails which was strange when you looked at their untidy hands. I had never argued just accepting their argument that everything had to look spot on. I also realised as I finally drew on my stockings why my legs had been shaved and pampered the night before. The colour combined with the flimsiness now covering my legs meant they had a gorgeous tan but any hair or blemish would spoil the effect. Smart new 2 inch heel patent leather shoes combined with a tiny clutch bag to finish off the new me. Sandy was clucking over me like a mother hen when the doorbell rang.

"Pop this into your bag, you'll probably need to touch your lips up during the evening and please remember to keep your shoulders back. You know what we've been telling you, it spoils the effect if you slouch. Be proud."

She fussed and bustled around me as we headed for the door, a mother letting her daughter out on her first date. What was I thinking about? But I was as nervous as a daughter on her first date. This was it. This was a new world. I remember getting a goose bumpy tingle as I thought about the men tonight and I wondered whether George's body was as good and whether? Never mind I am ashamed to admit that I wondered whether I would catch sight of you know what. My girlish dreams were interrupted by Mel demanding to be let in.

"You know George, don't you Paula?" Mel smiled as I opened the door. I must have looked a complete fool standing there just visually devouring a smartly turned out George. It was not the usual grubby wild haired post grad but a smart, and good looking young man that any girl could take home to meet her Mum.

As we arrived in our living area Sandy appeared with a tray holding four glasses.

"It's a celebration. Today is Paula's coming out party. She' joining us." Sandy smirked as she made the announcement. I didn't understand at first but then I did, or at least I thought I did. She was letting George think I was coming out as a lesbian and allowing them to toast their achievements in creating me. But what was I to drink to? I was uncertain and a little disappointed.

We all sat, at little uneasily. I had to concentrate on balancing my glass, keeping hold of my bag and ensuring my skirt didn't reveal all. When I stood it sat a good six inches above my knee but when I sat it darn near disappeared. I saw George's eyebrows shoot up as he caught a flash of my stocking tops. After the third bottle of wine we began to relax and the conversation began to flow. I found myself, inevitably I suppose, chatting with George, perched on the edge of the sofa. I assumed the girls had gone to open another bottle of wine when the lights dimmed and soft slow dance music began. Looking over our shoulders George and I saw Mel and Sandy smooching behind us.

"Well, those two seem to be enjoying themselves." Smiled George. A flash of anger at my two flat mates burned inside me. They had queered my patch with George by implying that I wasn't interested in men. Well, I'd show the, I'd make them laugh on the other side of their faces. I smiled the sweetest smile I could summon at my companion and whispered, "I'd love to dance, shall we?"

George was over six feet tall so I fitted nicely into his arms as we, in turn began to smooch. He had already taken off his jacket, as I ha, so my head seemed to naturally rest against his pristine white shirt. He seemed to be more careful this time where he put his hands, resting them just below my waist line in what I regarded as a safe area. I had never realised how exposed and vulnerable a girl could be, dressed in flimsy, man inflaming clothes. His hands moved up slightly and the caress of his fingers through my silk cami felt comforting. As we danced Mel danced up and smiled enquiringly at me. I nodded to her unspoken question. I was enjoying myself and Sandy and her announcement gave me options to call a halt to the proceedings at any time. That's what I thought.

It was my choice whether to go to the next stage. George's caressing fingers had now moved to my bare shoulders and were producing an exciting sensitivity over my neck and shoulders.

As my body wanted more my mind began to worry. What if he wanted to kiss me? Did I open my mouth immediately or was it more ladylike to invite him to prise his way forwards? What was the right thing to do? His head moved sideward and then downwards. He reached forward and I firmly closed my eyes.

The first kiss, when it came was a gentle brush across my lips. I knew it was an invitation, an invitation to another kiss. In a flash I made up my mind, I wanted to feel his lips pressing against mine and hang the consequences. I turned my face towards his and gently puckered my lips. His touched mine, pressed forwards and then forcibly took mine. There was no question of invitation, I bowed to the inevitable as his searching tongue brushed my lips aside to take me with passion. His arms crushed me and I was in heaven.

After what seemed just a moment of bliss I found that my hands were exploring his hair and then moving over his body. His hands, in turn, began to do the same and I began to welcome his searching fingers as they moved towards my already revealing skirt.

Suddenly the insanity of my situation struck me like a thunderbolt. What would happen when he discovered to his disappointment more than he bargained for under my skirt?

I could bear it no longer. I broke away from him, mumbling about needing the toilet and dashed to lock myself and my confusion in the bathroom.

"Paula, Paula. Are you alright? What's the matter? Let me in and we can talk about it."

Melanie hugged me as I sobbed out the conflicts within me, explaining my fears about the deception upon George and how my new found desires were surely doomed to failure and worse.

"We broke it to George, the other night. He was shocked but he wouldn't have come along tonight if he hadn't wanted to. We've been watching the two of you. You were so sweet. It was so romantic, both of you being so shy and nervous. We thought you'd never get it together. I'm sorry, we should have told you but we weren't certain and you had to make your mind up for yourself. You had to find the real you. We've always thought you were so naturally feminine but if we'd told you, it would have frightened you off. You are Paula. It obvious that you want him and he certainly wants you. Come on don't keep him waiting."

My spirits lifted and Mel helped repair my make up and assured me that in the dimness of the room he would not see the redness of my eyes. She whispered an outrageous suggestion in my ear and though I at first refused I eventually returned to face George minus my bra and the silicon breasts. I was shaking so much that Mel had to support me as I came face to face with George.

He stepped forward me to envelop me in his arms and whispered, "I knew you were special from the moment that I first saw you."

There was only one way to answer him. I reached upwards and thrust my demanding

Lips against his, making sure they were just far enough apart to hint that I longed for his tongue. Soon his enquiring hands discovered that I wore no bra and his tongue transferred its affection to my still undeveloped breasts. What exquisite pleasure and pain as first his tongue and then his teeth played with my nipples. I now wanted to return the pleasure and he eased himself so that I could reach for his zipper. I gently reached inside and gasped as I felt his engorged member. It was rock hard and oozing and frightening big but such were my feeling that I longed to be impaled upon his masculinity.

As I glanced down I spied his throbbing, blue veined, gorgeous manhood for the first time. Instinct told me exactly what I had to do. I placed a hand on his chest and pushed. My needs demanded and I could not and did not want to resist them. I slipped his trousers to his ankles and leaned over him. I tasted the salty dampness of a man for the first time. His hands moved to hold my head in position. Now I could not go back as it filled my whole mouth. But I managed to ease back a fraction, allowing me to lick and tease him, Within moments he shuddered and thrust himself even deeper and I heard his screams as he came in a thundering rush. I knew then that my satisfaction was to come from his penetration of me and that moment was not far away.

His warmth flooded my mouth and I had to swallow or it would have spilled out of the corners of my mouth. My thoughts were now in turmoil as I knew I had crossed a defining line in my sexuality. What was I?

My thoughts were interrupted as George kicked off his trousers from his ankles and in one movement scooped me into his arms. He held me to his body, forcing me to wrap my legs around his waist. My arms slipped naturally and easily around his neck as he leaned forwards to kiss the dampness from my face.

Suddenly his hands changed position forcing me to tilt backwards and slide tantalisingly down his partly naked torso. With one arm around my waist he still had the strength to slip his other hand under my skirt and I welcomed his initial exploration. His fingers first gently and then more urgently stroked the tops of my thighs, sending a cold goosy chill though my whole being, As he became bolder I felt the elastic of my knickers stretch and our mutual excitement grow.

I sensed rather than heard the girls telling George to use their room and that inviting double bed. As he stepped forward he allowed me to slip a little lower and the shock of his rampant masculinity pressing urgently at my silky underwear sent shivers of anticipation through my whole body.

I kept my eyes firmly shut as he strode towards the bedroom. My panties seemed to grip ever tighter under the combined stress of my growing excitement and the sliding inquisitiveness of his manhood now firmly pressing at my rear slit. I heard him kick the door shut behind us and then I was thrown onto the bed.

The events of the next half hour confirmed the vulnerability in the presence of a powerful, demanding and sex crazed male. Hardly had my back touched the bed before he ripped my panties off by pulling upwards leaving my legs high in the air. He grasped my ankles forcing them onto his shoulders and thrust forwards with his whole body. My legs were forced back towards my chest as his massive flaming manhood demanded entry. I was helpless against his strength. His brutal onslaught stretched and tore at my virginity and the shock brought screams to my lips as his flaming poker rammed into me, again and again.

After what seemed an endless age of pain he withdrew and then like a sack of coal he turn me over onto my front. By this time I had no strength or will to resist him. He set me on my knees and entered me again, doggy style. As he rammed home with ever increasing frenzy he tore and pinched at my nascent breasts leaving them sore and bruised. BY this time my cami top was torn to shreds, gone like my sexual excitement, I just wanted everything to finish.

His breathing became a panting as his orgasm rose and finally he slumped over me trapping me against the bed. At long last the pressure within my battered buttocks eased as his manhood deflated like a balloon. There was an embarrassed silence as he surveyed the effects of his frenzied passion. I lay quietly sobbing at the pain and the degradation but I strangely felt elated at having given myself as a woman. Finally I drifted off into a fitful doze.

I awoke with a start. There was a smell of disinfectant and as I opened my eyes I saw Mel and Sandy anxiously watching over me.

"George has gone. We told him never to come back, not after what he did."

"No. No. I wanted him to, he just got carried away a bit, that's all. It was fantastic, the whole evening but I got frightened. I feel sore, I suppose that's to be expected."

"Men are like that but that's your choice, women are far more considerate. The trouble with virgins being deflowered is that it's so messy. Here, you'll need to wear one of these for a couple of days." Sandra held up a packet of tampons and the showed me how to insert one.

The loving caring attention I got from the girls made it apparent they considered me an honorary female and over the following days I learnt a new way of life. Not only in the way I dressed but in my whole outlook.

That night their loving care concluded with drying me and producing a white full length chiffon nightdress for me to sleep in. As the tucked me up in my own bed Sandra kissed me on the cheek, smiled and whispered, " We got the nightie for our little virgin's first night. It's a bit late but good things are wasted on men, anyway."

So I once again dozed off to sleep in complete confusion. Had I reached the heights of ecstasy or degradation?

To be continued

  

    

  

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