BE FOREWARNED. The following story contains sexually explicit material not suited for those who have not yet achieved the age of maturity. If you should fall into this category, do not read further. Consult the laws of your community to clarify if you are eligible to read adult sexual material. The theme is transsexual. If this type of reading matter offends you, read no further. Go do something else. Standard disclaimer applies. Any association with real people, places, events, or entities is purely coincidental.

  

The Guest House

by Virginia Kane

Copyright 2002. All rights reserved.

  

Chapter One.

"Damn!" Once again, I was fearfully running for my life. Two toughs were after me in hot pursuit for what little money I had on me. They were determined to get it, too, or they would have let me go, once I threw my overloaded knapsack at them and took off running in the opposite direction. It was my own damned fault. I shouldn't have ventured into a seedy looking part of a big city so late in the evening. It was totally dumb of me, but that's how I am. I don't take the time to think things out too well in advance, so I end up in one sorry jam after another.

My total lack of courage got me into another fine mess. Why couldn't I be brave like my older brother? I don't know. I got beaten up too many times while growing up. I was afraid to defend myself. All throughout my school years, I was the local punching bag for any self-proclaimed hero that wanted to show he was my better. Instead of fighting one, defending myself to discourage other bullies, I depended on adrenaline to beat a hasty retreat from incurring physical harm.

I must admit that I had no reason to be such an avowed coward, because I was fairly hefty and in fairly good shape. Running from trouble required me to stay fit. I avoided bad habits like smoking, drinking and drugs, too. So, I could run fast from confrontations. The effort required to catch up with me to beat me to a pulp deterred many an aggressor. I figured it was my best defense, as I lack the will power to stand and fight. My tormentors figured correctly that I wasn't worth the bother. I didn't care, so long as they'd let me run off with my tail between my legs. Once again, I was depending on fleet of foot to prevent my getting beaten up. I hate suffering the pain of a beating! I'll do anything to avoid it.

Cutting through a yard, across an alley and into a gangway between two houses, I found myself out on a busy street. I could still hear the rapid footfalls of the wannabe thieves, so, dodging between passing cars, I kept a sharp lookout over my shoulder for my pursuers. Hastily rounding a corner in front of a retail store, I bumped smack into someone huge standing right in my path. The impact sent me sprawling across the sidewalk on my hands and knees.

"Whoa there, my man! Watch where you're going!" I figured I was done for. My pursuers wouldn't have trouble catching up to me. I cringed in horror at the sharp pain in my twisted left ankle, as I crouched, waiting for them to pounce on me. Instead, when I looked I saw the huge guy still looming over me.

Then I heard him shout at the two thugs: "Get lost, assholes!"

Great! Somehow, knowing that this guy scared off my assailants felt good, even though he was probably going to take their place. At least, I wasn't alone in recognizing when my odds for success in a street brawl were slim to none. This towering lug was immense. He could easily pick me up to tuck me under one arm to haul my ass to hell if he so desired, even though I weigh close to two hundred pounds. His bulging, long arm reached down to help me up.

"Sorry I didn't see you coming 'round the corner in time to dodge clear of you. Can you get up? Let me help. Wait. Maybe you shouldn't try it yet."

Go figure. I sent a Goliath of a man reeling across the sidewalk to keep his equilibrium, and he responded by acting worried about me, over whether or not I'm hurt. Someone else in his place might have kicked me while I was down. "No, don't. I think I'll be fine in a minute or so. Thanks for the offer, and thanks a lot for scaring off the two thieves that were chasing after me. They were out to rob me."

I took a look at my throbbing ankle. "Shit!" It was starting to swell already.

"You'd better let me take you to a doctor. That ankle looks sprained and should get wrapped. I doubt if you should walk on it much for a few days."

"No, no! I think it'll be okay in a minute or so. Just help me up on my feet."

"Well, okay, as you say, but I have warned you." He took my arms and lifted me up like I was a five-pound sack of potatoes onto my right leg. He didn't even strain a little in spite of my weight. "Well, at least your other leg seems to be working properly, other than that strawberry bruise on the knee. You'd better let me take you to the nearest health service clinic to have some antiseptic applied to it against an infection, just to be sure."

"No, but thanks again. I'll be fine. I really appreciate what you did for me."

Just then, I reeled in agony as I tried to transfer weight to my left foot. The searing pain was far more intense than I thought it would be. I saw shooting stars and slumped like a lump into the waiting arms of my odd sounding hero.

++++

Something strange assailed my nostrils. I inhaled, deep. "Where am I?"

"Take it easy, Mr. Fain. You're at St. Bethany hospital's ER. You suffered a bad sprain to your left ankle, a lump on your head and a few minor contusions: on your right knee, and the others on both elbows. You're lucky that you didn't break any bones, or fracture your skull. Why in God's world were you running in such haste as to run right into someone walking by on a busy sidewalk?"

"That's simple. Evasion adrenalin. Two muggers were after me."

"I see. Well, you're quite safe now. Your big friend arranged for you to stay overnight for observation, in case something shows up on your x-rays. The x-ray technician took them while you were still out cold. A diagnostician reviewed them, but still wants a staff trauma specialist to confirm his findings tomorrow morning. Someone will be along shortly to escort you up to a private room by wheelchair, soon as you feel that you're strong enough to sit up and take a ride."

"My friend? No. I can't, not to a private room. Please. Place me in a ward. I don't have the kind of money needed for a private room, and no insurance."

"It's all been arranged by the man who brought you in, so don't look a gift horse in the mouth. Just be polite to him tomorrow. He had to leave. Said that he had to get back to running the errand he was on when you bumped into him, but he'll be back to check in on you tomorrow. You were lucky. Otto works for a very affluent gent. His employer authorized full payment for your little stay with us."

"He did? Well, at least I'll get a chance to thank him again. His name is Otto, you say? I'd have been dead meat if he hadn't shown up when he did. How bad is my ankle injury? Is it broken, or just sprained?"

"I already mentioned that a specialist will advise you of your condition fully in the morning, after he examines the x-rays. Now, you just stay right where you are until a hospital orderly arrives for you. I hate to be curt, but I have to return to my other duties. We're always a bit short-handed. You understand, don't you?"

"Oh, yeah. Sure. Sure. Thanks, uh,,,"

"Cynthia."

"Thanks, Cynthia.

She disappeared from inside the cubicle, that fast. I closed my eyes and thanked my stars that I was safe from harm. I must have dosed off, because I awoke to a hospital orderly shaking my arm. "Hey pal. Think you can shimmy over from on that bed into this fancy chariot without my needing to carry you?"

I silently nodded, and tried to stand up, to turn and sit in the wheelchair. It took me a minute for my head to clear from rising up so fast. "Ooh, I feel woozy." I said, slumping back down onto the bed. I shook the cobwebs off, not wanting to seem so helpless. I held up my arm to fend him off. "Give me a second or two. I'll make it. I just woke up, that's all." My left foot was throbbing mercilessly.

"Sure, but watch yourself. Give it some time. Don't rush."

His words sunk in slowly. I guess the knock on my head still had an effect on my sense of balance. "Wow. Why am I so dizzy all of a sudden?"

"That's how it goes in accidents. You think that you're okay at first, but later on, you find out different. Are you sure you don't want me to call a nurse?"

"No, I don't think so. I just woke up from a sound sleep, that's all."

The switch to the wheelchair was easy enough, once I got my bearings. The ride up in the elevator made me dizzy a little again, but other than that, I was okay physically, as far as I could tell. The orderly insisted that I get into bed, and not sit in a chair in the room, like I wanted to. He then put on the TV and left.

++++

I woke up the next day, feeling spoiled by the comfort of a real bed. I had been touring the country for a few months to rid me of a bug that plagued me since I graduated high school. I hustled my butt on a loading dock for three years to save up the money for a year of carefree traveling, seeing sights all around the greater Forty-Eight. I planned to travel frugally and make every cent count. One unanticipated calamity like getting mugged would nip my careful plans in the bud. Being rescued in the nick of time by a total stranger was sheer good fortune.

A hospital resident doctor came by to render his expert opinion about my swollen ankle. He told me not to worry about the dizziness the hospital orderly reported to the floor nurse after he brought me up to the room. It was from meds.

The doctor assured me I'd recover, and said it was common for patients to experience disorientation from painkillers like the ones given to me on my arrival. He also told me my brain scan revealed no serious lesions. I'd feel fine soon after my release, if I would remain in bed for a week or so, to heal my ankle injury, not the lump I took on the noggin. Nice. Where was I to find a warm bed for a week?

I didn't let on to the doctor. I decided to work on where to go after leaving the hospital. I didn't have to worry for too long. Otto, my hero, arrived about ten in the morning to see how I was coming along, as predicted by the admitting nurse. I told him a doctor told me I would be released after lunch. "No sense wasting a meal that someone already bought and paid for." I laughed, and he joined in.

He seemed to be a jovial sort, nice to hear him laughing. "Don't worry over skipping a hospital lunch. My employer insists you stay at his guesthouse until you're fit enough to resume your travels. We can have lunch far more appetizing somewhere along the way, at my employer's expense."

"I wouldn't think of imposing. Say! Mind if I call you Otto?"

"I wish that you do. It's my given name. Please do me a kindness, though. My 'boss', as you call him, will be very upset with me if you refuse his hospitality. He feels I should have been more careful where I was walking. He's already very upset with me that my errand was delayed by several hours yesterday. If you refuse him, he'll give me more grief over our mishap. He has a gorgeous estate-."

"Mishap, my foot. I almost knocked you down in my haste. It was my fault, entirely. I can straighten your boss out about that with ease. Lead the way. I may be cowardly when it comes to fighting someone, but a misunderstanding doesn't involve that kind of risk on my part. I'm happy to oblige. Will you take me to him?"

"Of course, only---."

"Yes?"

"Please refer to him as my employer, not my 'boss', and address him: 'sir'.

"Oh. Sure thing, Otto. He likes to keep things sort of formal. Does he?"

"Not really, but you're a total stranger. You don't know him well like I do. He prefers that I address him by first name when we're alone, and formally when others are present. He's quite a congenial person when in private, but he likes to maintain a proper decorum whenever he is unsure of whom he's talking to."

"Got it. Seems like you've a great employer, Otto. I promise that I won't screw things up for you. I didn't know that I got you in a jam by running into you. I'll do anything to clear up the matter with your employer for you. How's that?"

"I was hoping that you'd understand. Now, let's find out if I can arrange for your release at this time. If we're lucky, I'll be able to pick up Mr. Higgins directly at his office and thereby save his chauffer a second motor trip into town. Not that I mind returning for you later, but this way, I'll be able to introduce my employer to you here in town. If he changes his mind, you can proceed on your merry way."

"I hate hospitals anyway, Otto. Tell the floor nurse I want to go dancing, if you have to, but tell her anything that will get me out of here right away."

Funny thing. I didn't recall mentioning to Otto that I was taking a year long vacation to see the American dream? When did I? Must have slipped my mind.

"I most assuredly will. By the way, sir, how shall I address you?"

"The way that you're built, Otto, you can call anyone anything you'd like. My given name is Clarence Fain, but Claire works fine." I held out my hand to him, and he shook it, but somewhat coolly, as if he didn't want to.

"Pleased to meet you, sir. That's just how I'd like you to respond to my employer, if you don't mind, Mr. Fain. Please. I'd consider this as a great favor."

"Well, I owe you one Otto, for sure. By the way, what's your last name?"

"Oh, my. It's Hastings, but it's more proper to address me as 'Otto', sir. I'm in the employ of a gentleman. If you refer to me while addressing my employer, be sure not to add a title to my surname. Just 'Hastings', when I'm being referred to when you address him. Thus, we avoid complications regarding stature, etc."

"English?"

"Originally. Been stateside over ten years. Does it still show that much?"

"I can't say. You're the first English butler that I've ever met. Cool."

"Oh, technically I'm not a butler, sir. I'm a squire, gentleman's gentleman, his valet, or a liaison, but I definitely do not 'butler'!"

I couldn't help but snicker. "Okay, okay. I'm sorry I offended you."

"A butler's duties are normally restricted to maintaining the proficiency of a household's staff. In contrast, a squire's primary duties are specific to fulfilling the personal needs of his employer. Yet, single gentlemen often can get by quite well with only a valet to see to all of their needs, as does my employer, Mr. Higgins.

I manage and arrange Mr. Higgins' personal comforts for him. Oh, please, forgive me. I'm tutoring you without cause. Few Americans find need for a squire or valet. You'd have no reason to know the subtle distinction. I apologize"

"Don't sweat it, Otto. I'm curious to learn more about it. Like you say, I've never needed either one, so I didn't knew the diff. Now, I do. Very interesting."

We mustered out of the hospital quickly. By the time I reached the door via a wheelchair, Otto had a limo waiting. He hastily explained to me that we were to proceed directly to pick up his "master" at his office. Good. I was anxious to meet someone that needed a valet to conduct his personal affairs.

The chauffer parked in a no-parking zone under the watchful eye of a cop. The two of them tipped hats to one another, as Otto scurried from out of the front passenger seat to open the curbside rear door. In steps someone much younger than I expected. He couldn't have been a day over forty. Otto returned to the front right seat and off we went, while he introduced Mr. Higgins, and vice-versa.

"Do you go around bumping into valets often, young man?"

"I'm sorry if I spoiled whatever task Otto was doing for you at the time, sir. I was so intent on making my getaway from two robbers that I almost knocked Otto down. He wasn't to blame at all, in any way. It was entirely my fault."

"Yes, I'm aware of that, but the incident resulted in injury to you, and not to him. If the reverse of your collision had taken place, I'd find no fault whatsoever in how he conducted himself. Were he injured and not you, I'd be tempted to reward him for his valor. Did he really chase those two off with his very British umbrella?"

He broke into uproarious laughter. "Damn it to hell! I knew I should have accompanied him on that errand. I would have given a king's ransom to see Otto giving two street toughs what for with his stoic umbrella. Young man, you'll have to tell me everything, every insignificant detail. Don't leave out a single word."

I glanced at Otto, who was breathing a sigh of relief. "Well, sir, there isn't honestly very much to tell. I was dashing around the corner with two thieves right on my tail. Suddenly, I ran into what I thought must have been a brick wall: Otto."

Mr. Higgins' laughing interrupted me. The chauffeur and Otto also began to laugh, but guardedly. "Brick wall, Otto? Ha, oh, ha, ha, ho, ho, ho. That is such an unbelievable description. A brick wall, you say! Hardly, I'd say. Oh, ha, ha, ha. Oh, Otto, my friend, you must forgive me. We must have this entertaining young man join us for lunch. Steve, head for Counselor's Row. Otto. Call on ahead. If the usual private room is taken already, we'll settle for a quiet table in the rear.

++++

At lunch inside the crowded restaurant, Mr. Higgins cordially repeated his invitation to use his guesthouse to recuperate. I declined, feigning that I wanted to see more of this great city on the southwest shore of Lake Michigan.

"All the more reason you should accept. I'll arrange a full schedule for you to take in a variety of the sights the city has to offer. Otto or Steve can drive you around in my limo after dropping me off at my office, or Steve can use my BMW, if you prefer. We can meet for lunch here in town together whenever you'd like, so you can relate exploits of your travels around the country so far to me.

You see; I wish I could take leave for a year to roam as a vagabond. I truly envy you. If I have need of Steve or Otto's services during your visit with us, I'll advise them of things I want done for me. They can incorporate them into your tours. Trust me, you visiting with us for a short time won't be an imposition at all."

"In that case, I accept." At least I'd not need a hotel room to recuperate.

"Tell you what we'll do. I'll have Otto purchase two maps, a smaller map onto which you can plot your journeys so far. Otto can transfer your trail onto a larger wall map we'll hang up in my study while your ankle mends. Later on, you can send us updates of your further excursions to us regularly to be posted on the larger wall map. In a way, we will accompany you on your worthy adventure. If you'd like, I'll buy you a lightweight digital camera to carry along with you to record a pictorial account. Think of it, Claire. You won't have to rely solely on your memory to treasure the many details of your adventurous trip. Interested?"

"Why? What's in it for you?"

"Why? I face awesome business responsibilities. I simply can't take off a whole year away from them. If Otto and I can sneak off for a few days, now and then, we can meet up with you as you progress. You can share your stories with us. You'll provide a marvelous distraction from my burdensome schedule."

"Oh. I see. Didn't think of that. I suppose it could work."

"Wanderlust. Oh, how I envy you. To be free as a bird must be thrilling."

++++

The long drive out to his estate in a far northern suburb of Chicago was an experience and a half. Traffic was horrendous on the busy freeways. By the time we arrived at our final destination, my nerve endings were frazzled.

"You do this every day? The trip, I mean. It must be Hell in winter."

Otto silently recovered my empty knapsack from inside the limo's trunk, while Steve spotted me, trying to negotiate the steep stairs up to the Mr. Higgins' house. He stopped us. "Hold it, Steve. This won't do. Otto, please help Claire up these stairs before he has another fall and injures his other ankle."

Otto handed Steve my knapsack and picked me up like a rag doll. I felt more than a helpless fool. He carried me up the flight of stairs effortlessly.

The mansion was far more elegant than I had anticipated. "Lucky me. I'm glad that I bumped into you, Otto. I've never been inside a house this fancy. If I ever get into a jam again, try to be on hand. Will you?"

Otto hushed me. "It's impolite to gawk. You might embarrass Mr. Higgins. By the way, you need to watch what kind food you eat more, Claire. I may be one and a half times your weight, but I'm much taller. You're soft as a marshmallow."

"I can still run circles around you. I don't smoke, use drugs or drink heavy."

"Think of how much more appealing you'd look if you took off the excess."

"What's the big idea, Otto? Why the lecture? To whom should I appeal?"

"Never mind." He whispered. "As a guest in Mr. Higgins' home, you're apt to be seen by some of his important colleagues. You wouldn't honor him well by portraying an unkempt street urchin. Might I be so bold as to suggest you excuse yourself to take further stock of yourself, clean up and, at least, remove those filthy grime-laden clothes you're wearing? Those pants have a gaping hole where your injured knee shows. I was surprised at your lack of concern during lunch. "

"Sure. I'd have changed if I could. But, my knapsack, which I appreciate your recovering, is now empty. Luckily, I keep my wallet in my pants. Those two thieves would have gotten my credit cards as well as my checkbook. I called my bank and froze the account while I was in the hospital. I'll buy some new clothes, first chance I get. In the meantime, what you see me wearing now are the only clothes I own. I have to wear this stuff until I can get to a department store."

Mr. Higgins interrupted. "No problem, at all. Please go up to my bedroom suite and bring down a full set of clothes for Master Fain, Otto, something new that I've never worn before. I'm sure he can make do with a few of my things for one evening, even if they may be a bit too tight to fit him properly.

Be sure the pants you bring him have an elastic waist band."

"You, too? Hey, I'm sorry I'm not a lean, mean machine, Mr. Higgins, but I really don't consider myself portly." The silent routine I got said otherwise. "Okay, you guys win. I'll skip dinner tonight and go on a diet, starting right now. Show me to a bathroom, Otto. Good thing that my ankle doesn't have a cast on it. I'll sit in a tub of scalding hot water all evening. We'll see how much blubber melts off."

I felt they weren't intentionally being nasty about my being overweight, but when it came to my appearance, they seemed to mean business. I couldn't complain too much. Mr. Higgins was providing me with new clothes. Why should I be upset? Otto bowed and swept his arm to indicate the way to a bathroom, so I followed behind him on my crutches, limping along.

++++

I could easily get used to living in such splendor. The tub had built-in water jets that made my swollen ankle feel terrific. While relaxing in the tub for close to an hour, Otto came in carrying a full set of clothes for me. "I'm afraid this is the best that I can do on the spur of the moment, sir."

"Otto, please call me 'Claire'. I cringe when you use that 'sir' routine."

"As you wish, Claire. Shall I advise the household to do likewise?"

"I wish you would. I feel that I'm deeply in your boss's debt for taking me in. What do you think would be most proper? 'Master Fain' sounds far out of step with my stature as an unscheduled visitor. Does he usually treat guests so well?"

"Yes, I'm afraid he does, Claire. However, I'm sure he'll comply with your wishes. It's proper for you to allow him the opportunity to see fit how you are to address him. So, I'll not advise you of his first name as of yet. He may, however, if he wishes you to address him with it. In the meantime, please, kindly remember not to use that 'boss' expression that you used, from now on."

"Sure. No problem. Still, I can't keep calling him 'your employer'."

"Try 'Mr. Higgins'. It will do very nicely, for now. These clothes should fit you, Claire. I'm afraid that the only type of pants he has with an elastic waistband are designed for snow skiing. They allow him the use of heavy underwear, unlike the flimsy ones you wore under your jeans. Do you usually prefer wearing such lightweight pastel briefs? I couldn't help but notice them Claire, when I took them to the laundry room."

"They wear better and take up a lot less room inside of my knapsack than the cotton variety. Besides, they dry faster. They all have a cotton lining where it counts the most. Lugging around a knapsack all the time requires ingenuity and some compromise. For your information, they're not panties, if that's what you're hinting at. I bought them in the men's department of a major chain store."

"I just thought, -- never mind. I happen to have noticed them right off when we first met, as you were bent over on your hands and knees. I thought it was a pair of women's underwear. I must apologize to you for my incorrect assessment. I mean no disrespect. Many men prefer to wear --- unmentionables"

I laughed. "Some erroneous assessment! You were being awfully nosey, if you ask me. Yet, I guess that I do prefer nylon to cotton briefs or the bulky type of boxers in vogue these days, at that. I even wear them when not traveling. Was there a point to why you're bringing up what kind of underwear I prefer to wear?"

"Well, Mr. Higgins doesn't have anything like them, so I procured a similar pair from the guest house for you to wear. I'm afraid the only ones I could find are meant for a woman, Claire. If they don't fit you properly, I'll have to make a trip to a local chain store. I don't mind going, but ---"

"No need to bother. Wearing women's panties for one day won't kill me. Wait until we know whether or not I'll need you to go get me a pair of pants, first. Now, if you'll excuse me, the bathwater is getting cold, and my ankle feels much better, so be off with you, Otto!" I declared, mimicking his polite form of English

"Yes sir -- uh, Claire." He smiled at my announcing that the damn panties didn't force him to make a special trip to the local clothing store. I got the distinct impression he got a charge out of knowing that I didn't mind wearing them. What difference would it make? Who'd see them?

After he bowed and left the bathroom, I got out of the tub, dried off and put the damn panties on. Whew! They were femmy, alright! Lace panels at the sides with frilly trimmings at the waistband and leg holes definitely proved they were a woman's pair of panties. My manhood took notice, right away. I wondered if Otto was thinking what I was thinking about at that moment. I looked into the mirror and smiled. That devil! If he got them from the guesthouse, and these were the most unisex pair he could find, what else to explore was out there. Then again, maybe these were the frilliest pair there, and he wanted to drop a hint?

Could my host be gay? And if he is, so what? What should I do about it? Should I beg off and leave suddenly? What kind of errand was Otto running when we bumped into each other in a seedy part of town? I stood for a moment in front of the mirror and asked myself---"Hey, good-looking? Are you into some new and exciting fun this week? -- My ankle suddenly reminded me why I was there.

I shook the idea off, thinking my situation was nothing more than the result of some coincidental circumstances. Still, my reflection did look highly erotic to me. I retained a degree of rigidity from what I noticed, and "Rupert" surged in my panties from the thought of looking 'attractive' wearing the scanty panties. "This bears further investigation, Watson," I mumbled to myself.

I horsed around with a few buddies while growing up. Being fondled and groped wasn't entirely foreign to me. Still, did I want to dabble in a bit of rampant homosexuality now? I was on the road, far away from home. My past reputation for being liberal-minded wouldn't cause a big stir out here, like it did back home. Took me well over a year of total abstinence to convince everyone. I knew that I wasn't a "flaming faggot". Even then, guys that I worked with on the docks hinted at my being "queer" a few times, I got used to being needled about it, to shrug off innuendos made with smart remarks about them "wishing" that it was true.

Was it? My engaging in a little gay hanky-panky in a safe, far from home, environment wouldn't make life difficult for me, as it had back home. The travel adventure was the best darn idea I ever had. The guys all thought I had balls by my packing up to go out and see the country. Living in a straight community, with friends knowing about my early exposure to a deviant sex life was tough enough. Getting over the abuse that I had to face for venturing away from heterosexuality was another matter. Still, the folks back would never know what I did here.

I slid the polyester ski pants up my legs, after winding the ace bandage on my ankle tightly. Sure enough, the leg holes had stirrups and were skintight. The waistband was tight, too, forcing me to take a deep breath to close the clip and zip up the fly. I had to stand up and dance around on my good leg to manage it.

The image of me in the hazy mirror caused "Rupert" to spring back to life, showing off alongside the pants' zipper. "This won't do." I opened the zipper and rinsed my cock in cold water. "There. That's better. Go back to sleep, you errant little devil. Don't give me away to these nice people." A gentle rap on the door alerted me to my host's waiting on me to resume our earlier conversation. "Did you call out for my assistance, Mr. Fain?"

"No, Otto, I was just talking to myself. Be out in a sec." I checked again to make sure I wasn't presenting an obscene gesture in this outfit. I chose to wear the shirt outside my pants, as it was made of flashy nylon, another small hint at the kind of clothes I was wearing. I'd never buy such a flagrant looking shirt. If the buttons buttoned up on the wrong side, I wouldn't be a bit surprised, but it was a definitely man's shirt. On second thought, the shirt looked wrong outside of the pants, so I undid the fly, and redid the little dance after tucking the shirt inside.

Better, but I was still femmy looking. Oh, well. My host was in for it, now.

As I exited the bathroom, Otto was waiting. "I say! That's quite a charming outfit, Claire. Mr. Higgins will be pleased that you manage to fit into it. Allow me. The shirt needs to be tucked in a bit more in back" I had no choice but to let him tuck it in. His hands carefully pulled the wide waistband up higher, displaying the tautness of the pants on my legs to a greater degree. "There! Very charming. Are the pants' tightness tolerable? "

"Yes, yes! And, they'll me fit much better in a day or two, thank you, after I stretch them out more with my voluminous obesity! Honestly, Otto!"

"Quite to the contrary, Claire. These tight fitting polyester pants make you look quite stunning. You should always wear clothes tight. It flatters you. Will you follow me, please? Mr. Higgins is relaxing in the lounge, awaiting you; wishing to discuss your ventures to date. He advised me to tell you that has taken the liberty of checking your background, from the information that you gave me."

"The information I gave you?"

"Oh, yes. You entrusted me with possession of your wallet for safekeeping when you gave me your torn pants to be discarded. The information enabled us to swiftly inquire and confirm that you are who you claim to be, and not someone intent on pilfering the household's silver or other treasures.

I do hope you don't mind our snooping into your identity and screen your history. One must be very careful these days. Treacherous villains can be so sly and so cunning. I'm very pleased to know you don't fall into that category."

"That wasn't very nice, Otto. You could have asked me for my permission, first. What would happen if I didn't meet the standards your master requires of his guests? Would he throw me out into the street?"

"Not likely, but if a warrant for your arrest was pending, he might have told the police and held you here, unawares, until the proper authorities come for you. You must consider my master's position. All sorts of characters make attempts to find reason to file lawsuits against him, claiming civil damages. For all we know, you might have been part of a complicated plot to wrest financial gain from him."

"Well, thanks for your vote of confidence. I assure you that I have no such plans in mind. After sneaking around my back, I'm not sure I should accept any more of this 'hospitality' of his. What kinds of people go around snooping into a person's background, like that? It's a violation of personal sanctity, I'd say."

"I assure you Claire, that his inquiry was discreet, especially in regards to your choice of personal apparel. Nothing was mentioned about that issue, at all."

"Oh! Sure, but he now thinks I'm some kind of weirdo pervert. Right?"

"I can assure you that Mr. Higgins is not judgmental about how you prefer to dress. In fact, he advised me that he'd be interested in exploring deeper into how unconventional you can become, if you are interested in the idea. He'd be happy to supply you with any type of clothes you have in mind. Does that satisfy your curiosity about his attitude?"

"I'll bet! I'm sure he would be, but this is as far as I'd like to venture into the absurd. Get it? You can advise Mr. Higgins for me that my past indiscretions still haunt me to this very day, and I've completely grown out of that horrid nonsense. If you'll kindly retrieve my knapsack for me, I'll be on my way. Tell him whatever you'd like, but tell him that I no longer have any inclination to remain his guest."

"Horrid nonsense? Whatever do you mean? Our discreet inquiry into your background has revealed nothing at all he considers untoward. Please, Claire. It would be most unkind of you to depart, now. Mr. Higgins will assuredly wreak his vengeance on me. I've already aired out the guesthouse for your visit. Please. Do reconsider. I promise not to say a single word about what you just told me."

"Nothing?"

"Absolutely nothing. Is there something sinister or devious that we should know about you that might alter Mr. Higgins' decision to offer you respite for you to mend your current affliction? If there is, I suggest you come forward about it."

"You talk awfully funny, Otto. Look. I've nothing to hide from either of you. If I tell you that I spent a few years being interested in other guys sexually, would it make any difference to him? I doubt it. That's over and done with, history, as far as I'm concerned. I prefer women, exclusively. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"

"Of course. I don't think your past sexual preferences has any bearing on his willingness to have you stay in his guesthouse. My employer is a confirmed bachelor, true. However, he never engages in sexual trysts of any kind with men. Since you've been open and forthright to me about your past, I can only be frank and honest with you about him in return. He's taken an interest in your plans to tour the country, and nothing more that I'm aware of. Take it from there."

"Look, I'll try to make this as simple as I can. I don't care to be used as a convenient way for him to get away from his humdrum, boring life. He can take some time off from his important responsibilities. Can't he? What's so hard about that? If he can waste hours every day in traveling the freeway, he can leave his worries behind for a week or two at a spell, like most other people do."

I argued with Otto in the hallway long enough to cause Mr. Higgins to come looking for us. He politely asked me to join him in his study, to talk, away from the prying ears of the other members of his household staff.

I should have left right then, but pain in my sore ankle kept me.

"I normally don't take in guests anymore, Claire. I keep to myself at home. I like these pleasant surroundings away from the city's noise. I come out here as often as I can, to be alone. The hustle in the city, its crowds, all of that is more than annoying. People there are self-centered. I suppose that I'm as bad as they are, in my own way.

Out here, I can do whatever pleases me. Otto and Steve manage all of my needs for me. I wish that I could live out here all of the time, but I simply can't. I'll bet think I commute back and forth daily. Well, I most certainly don't, although I wish that I could. No, I maintain an apartment in the heart of the city, and venture out on I-90 on the weekends only. This week, I'm happily taking an extra day off for a well-deserved extended weekend. I'm sorry for prying into your personal life, but I've had a few bad experiences that warrant me to exercize due caution."

"You should have asked me first, sir. It wasn't kind of you to pry, like that."

"Well, if I promise you that I won't do anything further to anger you in that way, will you agree to stay? I'll be very pleased if you say yes."

"Well, I really thought that you'd uncover something I don't want known by your secretly prying into my personal life. That's all. I'm willing to set it aside."

"Thank you, Claire. By the way, I discreetly notified the police about your unfortunate encounter in town. They have investigated it and found your missing checkbook and a few pieces of your missing clothing. There wasn't much else to be recovered, I'm afraid. They've agreed to hold on your checkbook and clothes for you. You can retrieve your things after your ankle has healed.

Our checking into your background was really for your protection. As long as you weren't a habitual criminal, I didn't want to cause you further grief with the police over some minor past infraction the law, you see. I wasn't prying to infringe on your privacy. I merely waned to prevent any further difficulty for you."

"All the same, I have very little in my past to hide, as you now must know."

"Well then, let us consider the matter closed. I'd rather talk about your plan to see the whole country in a year. I don't think it's possible to see everything that there is to see in one year? What things interest you the most, Claire?"

Well, I went into some detail for the next few hours, describing the things that I felt were most important to see, and what things held no interest for me. He seemed to be excited, on the edge of his chair, so to speak. He kept repeating his impossible wish that he could take my place or accompany me.

++++

We discussed my itinerary until late in the evening. When I finally finished giving him my full, intended route, we started to list the sights I had already seen. He'd seen some of them, and we compared notes. Near midnight, we agreed that we had a lot in common, when it comes to sights to see that are most important.

We were both yawning. He summoned Otto to carry me to the guesthouse for the night. I was too tired to argue with them over being carried again, but I'd have much preferred to make the short trip under my own steam to test my leg.

I didn't even notice our leaving my crutches behind at the main house until Otto set me down onto the bed in the guesthouse bedroom. I should have known better. Mr. Higgins was sharp, sly and ever so smooth. I guess a person doesn't get to become rich by being an easy pushover, like me. I'd have to hobble away on one leg if I decided to sneak off into the night. I didn't even know which police station was keeping my missing checkbook and clothes. I would obviously be at a distinct disadvantage if I chose to cut out prematurely.

Otto bid me goodnight, and left. I had to use the bathroom, so I managed to hop over to it on one leg, using the bed and wall to manage it by myself. It was easier to do than I thought. A flash of a male dog crossed my mind as I stood on one leg to take a pee. Finished, I dropped the toilet's lid to sit down on the throne to remove the too tight ski pants. Then, wondering mischievously, I got up and hopped over to the mirror to look at my reflection with the nylon shirt tucked into the wide waistband of the ski pants. My reflection revealed a high waistline, much too high for a guy. Leaning forward to allow my shirt to slacken somewhat, the reflection resembled a woman's breasts, well, not really, but maybe that's what I was hoping to see. The idea of it wasn't threatening, and "Rupert" suddenly let me know that he liked the idea, too. Interesting. I let the pant's zipper down.

The clip at the waistband of the pants popped off like I was taking the cork out of a bottle of champagne. Wow, those pants were way too tight for me. I rubbed the reddened skin at my aching waistline to regain circulation. I had to roll the tight pant legs down off my legs. They felt so confining, like a sheath.

Hopping back into the bedroom on one leg, I rested, using a stool in front of the dresser. I checked a few drawers, hoping to find something suitable to sleep in. A few drawers were partially full, but not with something appropriate for a guy. Obviously, a woman guest had used the cottage last and left some things behind. Maybe she was one of Mr. Higgins' former lovers. He seemed to be too young for me to consider him a totally asexual old bachelor, as Otto claimed.

Or, maybe a female relative of his leaves her things here for occasional visits. Whoever it was, she had a nice body and excellent taste in lingerie. They were clean, folded and smelled wonderfully fresh, like they'd just been washed.

Otto must know how to launder things of this sort properly. It seemed to me he knew quite a bit about examining other people's underwear and all about doing the household chores, like the laundry, for example. None of the three men I met so far mentioned that anything about a woman being employed to do the chores. I wondered why a woman didn't do them.

One drawer was filled with panties, alone. This must be place where Otto found the ornate pair that I was wearing. I picked up a few neatly folded ones to compare them. They were feminine looking, but not ornate as the pair he brought to me. I silently wondered why he selected a pair so provocative. "The slimy old coot", I thought. Just like an old lecher, he intentionally wanted to embarrass me by bringing me these. The other dresser drawers I ignored for the moment.

The dresser had a mirror of its own, so I stood up to admire how I looked in a silky pair of women's panties, knowing Otto, the old fart, was probably busy wanking his wiener to his mental impression of me wearing them. So, let him. That's probably all the fun the huge guy ever gets to have.

Then a new peril occurred to me. What if Otto tries to pull something funny with me? With only one ankle to support me, I'd have no chance at escaping him. He could rape me easily, without my having a prayer of a chance to successfully fending him off. I wasn't too keen on having that happen to me.

I looked to the door. Even if I locked it from the inside, he might still be able to get in and at me if he had a key. Surely he had one. How could I bar the door? Not one piece of furniture I saw would do the trick. Then it dawned on me. I saw a wedge-shaped doorstop lying on the floor next to the door. I got down on my hands and knees, crawled over and inserted it securely in place at the bottom of the doorjamb. No one, not even Otto, was about to break in to surprise me in the middle of this night!

I giggled at my foolhardiness. The closest window to the door was open. Anyone could enter the room by it. Anyone except for Otto, that is. He'd never fit through the window. His immense body was way too big. I had to admit: anyone that was determined could enter the guesthouse, one way or another. That goes for any house. If someone is determined, they'll get in. Locks on doors only keep out honest people. I decided that I was letting my fertile imagination get the best of me. I crawled back beside the bed and shut off the light, then got into the bed. Before long, I fell fast asleep, dreaming about Otto having gay sex, with me in the passive role. What a stupid dream that was. Sometime during the night, I felt a chill, got up, closed the open window and crawled back to bed, with my scuffed knee in pain.

The coverlet didn't dispel the chill in my bones, so I thought I'd check out the other dresser drawers for something warm. I guess fall nights in Chicago can get cold. One drawer was full of lacy bras, one with slips, and one held the pretty nightgowns ladies wear. Didn't the unknown woman ever wear warm underwear? I was hoping she had left a flannel nightgown behind. Beggars aren't choosers.

I took out a long nightgown. I didn't think they'd mind my wearing one. This thing would reach all the way down to my toes. Otto might get a big charge out of seeing me in it in the morning, I thought. I could have cared less. I was in need of something to cover my body completely. The coverlet on the bed was warm, but it was woolen. I itched all over from it, giving me Goosebumps.

Between the chills and my throbbing, sore ankle, getting any measurable sleep didn't seem too promising. I let the sleek gown fall over my body. If I could ignore its intended wearer, I could get used to it. It felt like I put on a super-long, nylon polo shirt, not some exotic, forbidden, taboo, lady's nightgown. At least the wool blanket didn't bother me anymore, just the sore leg.

I must have slept very late. I could hear birds chirping and the sounds of a lawnmower or something humming far off in the distance. Some people have the nerve, I thought, initially, making such a racket so early in the morning. Then by the angle of the sun's shadow cast upon the wall, I realized that it was long past sunrise. I sat up, shocked initially over how I was dressed, forgetful of what had transpired, late in the night to urge me to put the nightgown on. Then, it made me smile. The window next to the door was open again. Had Otto been by? Did he see what I was wearing? Did it give him a "woodie"? Wouldn't surprise me. It was giving me a boner, just thinking about his catching me dressed like this.

I got out of bed. Well, I sat up, anyway. Another pair of ski pants awaited me, and another silky nylon shirt, as well. Otto must have seen that I found my way into the dresser drawers, so he left the choice of underwear up to me. Why be a spoilsport? I picked out another fancy pair with lots and lots of ruffles across the back. "That ought to get the old goat's motor running." I said aloud. It would be purring fiercely like the lawnmower I could still hear. Why not? With a naughty grin, I stepped into the pair and stood up before the mirror, holding up my sheer nightgown to expose the panties. Nice. Very nice! Downright sexy! I turned around and peeked over my shoulder. The fluffy ruffles across my backside were too much. He'd piss right in his pants if he saw these, for sure.

In he walked. I turned around so the ruffles faced him. "This what you like, Otto? I hope it pleases you. I wore this gown all night long and put these on just now, especially for you!" I pulled up the sheer nightgown higher to show off the frilliest panties I'd ever worn.

"You need to lose weight, Claire. However, what pleases Mr. Higgins is what's important. I'm sure he'll enjoy what you selected to wear for the day. Ask him yourself. He's on his way here to suggest your having lunch out on the patio with him. The grounds are secluded, but that nightgown is hardly suitable for the occasion. I brought you a gentleman's dressing gown and a pair of heavy socks. We don't have any shoes in your size on hand. However, you can wear what you have on. I'm sure that Mr. Higgins will get as big a thrill as you, if you do. "

"Me? Thrilled by my wearing something like this? You were the one who made the offhand comment about my black nylon underwear, not him, nor me. He hasn't said one word to suggest he has an affinity for boys doing drag! Only you did, Otto. Don't go trying to pass off your interest in me wearing femmy stuff!"

"I sir, made an objective observation to you last night, and nothing more.

"Bull! You picked out the pair of lacy undies you wanted me to wear, so you'd get to see me in them. Mr. Higgins only saw me fully dressed. Don't try to tell me you didn't pick out the scantiest pair in the drawer. I checked."

"Perhaps. I thought it was the best way to determine whether your interest swayed to wearing lacy things. Obviously, you prefer ruffles much more, Claire. Henceforth, when I go out shopping for you, I shall keep your fashion tastes in mind. I must say, the pair that you chose to wear for today is very flattering. Your derriere looks very appealing in them, more than the lacy panties that I chose."

"That's better! You know damn well you got a kick out of seeing them on me. What's your boss's motive, Otto? Does he get his jollies the same way?"

"Sir, I give you my word, as a gentleman. I have little personal interest in your mode of attire. Further, I resent your inferences that I do. I merely followed Mr. Higgins' instructions last night. He's awaiting you on the patio. Address your inquiries to him; thank you. If you don't mind my saying so, you might put on the male dressing robe if you insist on feigning reluctance to wearing lingerie."

"I'll do that, Otto! I most certainly will. I'll also find out what this is all about, right away. All the stuff inside the dresser drawers in here didn't find it's way here by mistake. You put them here on purpose for me to find it."

"That, I freely admit, but I did so at my employer's request. Please address your accusations to him, directly. I'm sure he has a plausible explanation for the presence of those items. Further, if you'll ask him politely, I believe you'll receive honest answers to all of your questions."

Otto held the luxurious satin-lapelled robe for me. I pulled the nightgown off over my head, hopped around half way, and pointed my arms out toward the robe's smooth armholes. I then drew the sash cord tightly around my body.

"Lead the way. I want to find out what goes here."

"I brought your crutches. They're right outside the door, Claire. Shall I get them, or would you prefer to have me carry you to the patio."

"The crutches, please. My sore ankle feels much better this morning, so I'd like to give putting a little weight on it a try."

I was able to take a few guarded steps. Then, I felt a sharp pain. "This isn't such a good idea after all, Otto." Before I finished saying it, Otto put my arm over his shoulder, and told me to double up the crutches. Leaning into him, I was able to manage the fifty-yard walk to where Mr. Higgins was reading a morning paper. He stood up when he heard us approach.

"Ah, good morning, Claire, Otto. How's the game ankle faring, Claire?"

"It's not, thanks, but that's not very important right now, Mr. Higgins."

"Oh? Now then, what would take precedence over your recovery?"

"Well, I'd like to know just what you're up to, if you don't mind. What's the female stuff planted in the guesthouse dresser for? What precisely do you know about my past that would prompt you to have Otto put all that stuff there? Don't try to give me any malarkey about some woman guest leaving it behind, either. It's all brand new stuff, never been worn. I can tell."

"Oh, I see. Well now. You were offended by finding those being put there for you to find when you went poking around. No doubt. I understand how you might feel at discovering a full array of feminine undergarments at your disposal, placed there as if on purpose, to tempt you. You're right, you know. I did have Otto put them there on purpose. If you let me try to explain without interrupting, I'll give you as thorough an explanation as you'd like. If you continue to rant and rave, like you seem to wish to do at the moment, you're free to assume whatever you'd like. You'll not believe what I have to say, anyways.

What will be your pleasure, Claire? Do you want the whole truth? Or shall we play cat and mouse for a while. I'm sure that you're harboring more than idle curiosity and are very upset at what you think I've learned about your past, so far. Shall I continue?"

Please do. It's got to be good."

Please sit down and have a cup of coffee, at least, and I'll do my best to clarify why they were put there. Otto, please assist Claire.

Otto adjusted the chair at the table for me and poured the coffee. I wasn't sure I should have any. It might have been drugged. Mr. Higgins seemed intent on getting me to relax and lower my guard. Finally, I lifted the coffee cup to my lips and took a sniff, unsure of what it contained. I took a sip. It tasted okay, so I took another sip. They watched me intently. Then, Mr. Higgins poured himself a cup from the same pot, and took a long, deep swallow, surely to make a point. He must have known I still didn't trust him.

"Ahem. Believe it or not, those things weren't intended for you. We came to meet you by accident, if you recall, Claire. No, they were meant for somebody else, someone very much like you, though; young, pleasant, and adventurous."

"And gay. You think I'm gay. Well, I'm not."

"Perhaps not, but it's really not a critical issue for what I have in mind. You see; I'm interested in locating someone who'd like to pose as a woman, full-time for a while, perhaps for an entire year. Otto was on his way to interview a young lad under consideration. When you bumped into Otto, he thought that you were the lad he was to meet on that same street corner. Your being chased by the pair of cads, out to rob you, only supported his incorrect assumption that you and the applicant were one and the same.

When he took you to the hospital, he still thought you were the lad he was to meet. From the hospital, he called to advise me how you accidentally tripped over him and injured your ankle. I was outright furious with him, of course. My careful plan to assist a young man in transitioning into womanhood would bring me embarrassment and a financial disaster if the public became aware.

Do you have any idea what kind of financial mayhem might result in my business affairs if the aggressive news media learns of what I'm planning?"

"Just what sort of game are you playing? You have some sort of scheme to physically alter a guy; make a real woman out him? Sounds sort of sinister to me. Besides, just how did I screw up the plan? Send Otto out after the real guy that he was supposed to interview now, and I'll be on my merry way out of your hair as soon as that. You don't owe me anything. "

"Please, Claire. Allow me to continue. When investing in highly technical business ventures, you become a target for con artists and unscrupulous people who will try to uncover and then sell evolving research information regarding your business to your competitors. One of my many holdings recently has discovered a new technique that can be of immense help to people with gender dysphoria."

"Oh, so you think I'm still a transsexual. Look Mr. Higgins, what happened to me as a teenager happened a long time ago, see, and it cured me completely.

I haven't the least inclination to crossdress anymore. Forget about me. I'm not the least bit interested in transitioning or any new techniques that would help someone change, like that. I told Otto that, yesterday."

"Then, how do you explain your actions, last night? No one asked you to put on a nightgown to sleep in."

"The window was open, so I was getting cold, even after I closed it, and the woolen blanket on the bed made me itch. I had to put something on to stop the itching, or I'd freeze."

"There were two sheets on the bed. Why didn't you sleep between them, so the woolen blanket didn't interfere?"

"Oh. I guess I didn't notice. That's beside the point. The point is: you went behind my back to check into my past and found out that I was once arrested for being dressed up as a woman a few years back, performing a lewd sexual act on another youth. Naturally, you think that I'm a gay crossdresser, and you put those things in the guesthouse to find out if I'd take the bait.

Sure, I admit that I was curious and went out a few times, wearing a sexy feminine outfit that I bought at a resale store. I got a kick out of wearing a dress. I've regretted every moment for being so naive, ever since."

"A few times, you say? Describe your first homosexual activity, in detail."

"I was spotted by three schoolmates while out walking through a park near my house late one evening. They didn't seem to recognize me at first, so I kept on walking. Trying to run in high heels would only have made them bold enough, to chase after me, so I kept walking slowly until I reached the far end of the park

I thought that they were ignoring me until I was out of the park, entirely. They followed me, closing the distance between us and then told me to get into a parked car with them. They threatened to expose me at school if I refused. They recognized me and called me by name. They coerced me into the car by saying they were only curious about why I was all dolled up and out walking alone. The biggest one said that he'd have accompanied me, if I had asked, to protect me.

When I didn't respond, he opened the car's rear door and pushed me right into the back seat and got in beside me. The other two got into the front seat and were facing the back seat, watching us. I was scared out of my head. If they had wanted to, they could have beaten me to a pulp, but they didn't. Instead, they just sat there and waited for me to say something.

I tried to make an excuse for my odd attire, but they laughed at me, telling me they knew why I was wearing a dress. I wasn't sure why, myself.

The one in the back seat with me put his hand on top of my knee and told me not to be afraid, that he wouldn't hurt me. He said that he thought I was cute, cute enough to kiss. The other two egged him on, as if he didn't have the nerve. He kissed me. The other two cheered. He kissed me again, and I realized that he was enjoying our kiss. The other two quieted down and continued to watch, as he moved his hand up my leg and lifted my skirt along with it. I shivered at his touch.

I was on fire with excitement. His hand touched my groin, and I squirmed. He reached across with his other hand, took my hand into his and led it down to the zipper of his pants, and set it on top of the huge bulge behind his zipper. He told me that I was having the same effect on him; that I got him so excited, I'd have to relieve his tension. Then he kissed me again. I didn't resist. He put his arms around me as his tongue snaked between my open lips. I didn't tell him I had dreams about being seduced by a man in this way, being watched.

He put one hand behind my head and applied pressure, lowering my head to the bulge in his pants. The other two watched silently, as he lowered his zipper and took out his raging hard on. His hot, pulsing dick mesmerized me. His hand on the back of my head forced my lips closer to it. I swooned. He then told me to open my mouth. I tried to shake my head. He insisted. Then, without warning, he pushed my head down over the head of his cock.

He set the pace and depth. I was too afraid to do anything. He got harder as my mouth slipped slowly up and down his shaft. Soon, his cock erupted and he leaned back in the car seat and told me to wait where I was, with his cock still filling my mouth. I didn't move. It took a while for him to go soft, but I kept it inside of my mouth, afraid of what he'd do to me if I didn't do exactly as he instructed.

He told me that I gave good head, but it was obvious to him that I lacked a lot of experience. He suggested I get it then, and his friends would help. On his cue, one of the two guys in the front seat switched places with him. The second guy acted crude to me, and called me a cocksucker, but the first guy slapped him on the side of his head and told him to be nicer to me, so I'd want to be nicer to him in return. He stopped taunting me, but roughly pulled me by the hair, down to his raging boner. He didn't bother to kiss me, like the first guy did.

I finished the second guy as fast as I could. Again, he made me wait until he was soft again.

The third guy was nicer then either of the other two. He stroked my cock in tempo with my pleasing his dick. His other hand gently directed the depth of my strokes. He preferred to have me to lavish the wide head of his dick with kisses, telling me to slurp on it, wetly. His first sperm blast covered my tongue with thick goo, that wasn't as pungent at the other two's. He stayed hard a long time inside my mouth. By this time, I didn't mind waiting.

I had done all that they wanted of me, so they silently drove, dropping me off at the end of my block, by the alley. As I was leaving the car, the first guy told me to look for him at school, to arrange when we'd meet again. They said they'd keep our little meeting a secret, just between us, if I did what they asked.

For some reason, I just nodded silently, and then said: "Sure". That's how it started. After I gave them my phone number, the leader called me at home to tell me when to meet with the three of them at the entrance to the park. They told me not to dress up, but to wear women's underwear under my street clothes.

They even were cordial toward me when they saw me at school, after the second meeting at the park, but weren't too friendly with me at school, so others wouldn't figure out what I was doing for them on a regular basis. They even gave me some nice things to wear when we'd meet. I'd change my clothes in the back seat while my three friends drew lots to decide who would be first to enjoy my lips surrounding their cocks. I considered that my continued compliance was a form of sexual blackmail, and not really an indication of my being gay."

"How were you 'outed', Claire?"

"We had a minor auto accident when we were seniors. I was dressed up in a sexy sundress, wearing full makeup, down on the floor of the back seat, doing what I was getting very good at doing by then.

The driver was paying too much attention to me instead of watching where he was going. He sideswiped a light post. The police arrested all four of us teens because we had an open bottle of beer in the car, even though the driver wasn't drinking. The papers made a big thing out the way I was dressed. We all were expelled from high school, so our hopes of going to college were gone. None of us were planning to go to college, anyway."

"So. You were put on a list of sexual deviants."

"Yes. My folks had to move. The neighbors weren't happy about my living in the same neighborhood as their growing children. The clamor died down, but my reputation was ruined. I got mysterious phone calls late at night, offering me dates with other guys for oral sex after the news broke, but I never did.

Still, no one believes I did what I did to keep the three guys from beating me up and exposing me for being a crossdresser. Why should they? Treating me as a sex pervert was simpler. The whole town saw pictures of what I was wearing that night. I made the front page headline."

"Well, my checking up on you didn't divulge why you were added to a list of local sex offenders, Claire. Thank you for providing me the details."

"You mean, you didn't know why I was a social outcast back home?"

"I was advised that you were on the list, but not why. Now that I know, I'd like to tell you what I want you to consider, once your ankle heals."

"No thanks. I'll be on my way, soon as I can. I don't want repeat the same mistake again."

"Alright, Claire. I won't pressure you to change your mind. However, aren't you even mildly intrigued by what I've told you thus far?"

"I suppose, but I have no desire whatsoever to face ridicule like that again. I'll keep out of dresses from now on. If a girl asked me to wear one to please her, I wouldn't do it. Why should I put one on for you? Never mind. Don't tell me. I'm sure that you have a good reason."

"I do. Don't you want to hear it?"

"I'm sure that if I say yes, you'll try to talk me into it. I'm right, am I not?"

"Well, not if you're dead set against doing it. My reason requires someone who is willing to change dramatically, to the extent that his former identity would be undetectable. For all purposes and intents, the rest of the entire world would readily assume that he is a woman. Not a trace of the past would show, nothing to haunt the person, ever."

"You still have the prospect that Otto was going to meet. Ask him."

"Unfortunately, the lad is nowhere to be found. People who like to dabble in transvestism suffer periods of remorse for a host of reasons. You're in one at the moment, yourself. I guess the other lad is presently unable to face the grip of his compulsions. You seem to be able to control your desires very well, Claire, even if you don't care to dabble in dressing differently than other men at present. While in private, you didn't hesitate to don a lady's nightgown. Obviously, such clothes aren't repulsive to you, only the thought of further public exposure.

Why don't you let me explain more to you about what I have in mind? After I tell you a bit more about it, you can stop me, if you feel it can't possibly apply to you. If you think it might apply, I'll continue. Then I'm sure you'll be able to clearly understand why I think you can benefit from my pending business plan."

"Suppose I agree, for now. At the first sign you have an ulterior motive for my listening, I want you to stop. I'm not being needlessly cautious. I simply don't wish to be a public target again for agreeing to something that ends up with me in deep trouble, with others involved sneaking away, leaving me to be the culprit."

"Is that what happened to you back home, the last time?"

"Yes. The three guys I was seeing regularly claimed that I enticed them to follow me from the park. They hired a lawyer that prompted them to tell their story to implicate me as the aggressor, promising them oral sexual favors if only they'd meet me at the park entrance. In court, they filed depositions and sang like birds; plead being innocent of anything more than yielding to my promiscuity. They said that they thought I was a real girl, willing to sexually entertain three young boys."

"They stressed the point that they were young and innocent, not hot to trot for pleasures from a girl who liked to play three on one. Their lawyer even tried to say that I could have left them, any time I wanted to, as all three honestly testified that they never threatened me with violence. They were even willing to submit to taking lie tests to prove they weren't ever aggressive toward me."

"Well, I can assure you that I have far more at risk than you do, that would prevent me from taking advantage of you in any way. I give you my solemn word of honor that you can walk away at any time, and never have to look back. Does this suitably express my sincerity?"

"It would, if I knew what you expect of me, and what your plans are."

 

++++ The Plan.

 "Fine. To begin, I want to provide some background why I sought help with my idea. I've had my pants sued off in the past by women for breach of promise, alienation of affection, and a number of other socially frowned on misdemeanors. In all, these leaches took me for over three million, not counting my legal costs.

Gold diggers come well camouflaged, you see. I no longer have any wish to socialize with women. They cured me of ever seeking affection from a woman by squeezing me out dry, time and again. Still, I have a public image to maintain.

In some social circles, single men aren't trusted too far. In others, having a wife and a normal family life generates far greater respect. You can probably see where this is leading. I wished to locate a transvestite who would be willing to act as my wife, whenever I needed one socially, someone genuine enough to portray a proper wifely image for me, without flaw. So far, I've failed.

A few years back, a medical research team that I employ had successfully created a culture of human cells, blending fatty tissue with a complex polymer.

The process results in a foreign tissue formation that resists being rejected by the body's immune system. It can be incorporated into a living person's body to replace defective normal tissue except for active muscles or bone structure.

We recently received approval by the FDA to apply a polymer enhanced fatty tissue to reconstructing breast tissue removed due to cancerous tumors. The results we've achieved so far are splendid, promising the ability to expand the new tissue's widespread utilization for strengthening the vascular walls of the human heart; the aorta, or for hernias, to list a few primary examples. The most promising aspect of this new tissue compound is its ability to be assimilated into the body with negligible side effects. We can now construct veins and arteries with it and larger masses of fatty deposits, such as hips and flanks."

"Or breasts! You want to give me breasts. No thank you. I'm out of here!"

"Not unless you'd like a set. You're not giving me a chance to explain. The important feature is that we can facilitate moving fatty tissue around inside of a body at will, directing it through tubing made of our compound polymer. Not only that, but we can give a flat-chested lady a lovely looking bosom, to show off when she desires, and later her breasts can adjust, so they otherwise won't be in her way much when she's doing the dishes or hanging out the clothes to dry."

"You'll make a fortune with something like that. Every girl born with a small bosom will want it enhanced."

"That's done with existing technology. Using our polymer, a girl with small hips and an ample waistline could have excess fatty tissue incorporated into the polymer to be directed to places in her body to look more charming, permanently. Properly treated tissue can resist significant changes to its shape, so a woman can retain her youthful figure, well into her sixties, yet her body is able to replace the human element in each fat cell as if she was born with the compound in place within her body.

Now, let me explain what I have in mind for you. I guarantee that it will be totally safe, and you'll have no negative residual side effects."

"Go on. I'm listening. I don't like what it infers, but I'm willing to listen."

"Suppose that I tell you that I can offer you a brand new identity, with the proper papers and all, in a way that you can live two completely separate lives, simultaneously: the one you had since the day you were born, and another one, that you personally can reveal at will with no risk to the other. Wait! Don't answer yet. Just think about it. How would you like to fit perfectly into the clothes hanging inside the guesthouse closet on one day, and then wear men's clothing the next? Would you like to see a very pretty face one morning, looking back from a mirror, and have your own face there, the very next day. It's quite possible, you know."

"Come on. Sounds like a closet transvestite's favorite dream come true."

"Is that what you really are, Claire, a closet transvestite?"

"No, not any more. I've given that up, to get on with my life. I don't need a monkey on my back, not no more. Being exposed publicly cured me forever. I'll never be put into a position of defending a socially unacceptable fetish again."

"That's precisely my point, Claire. You'd never have to fear being exposed by anyone. A trained physician wouldn't be able to detect your secret, our secret. You could dress in whatever manner pleases you. You'd fill out all of your pretty clothes magnificently, beautifully. If that isn't enough for you to consider potential possibilities available to you, think about this. The extra flab hanging at the sides around your waste will evaporate just as if it has disappeared into thin air with no effort on your part to adhere to a strict diet. Your body fat will be used to develop a living tissue culture. Your excess flab can be refrigerated and stored for future use, if you want your figure to be enhanced further, later on. Now tell, me, Claire? Does the prospect sound more enticing, now?"

"Impossible. There's no such thing as a living polymer."

"Why not, Claire? Our compound is composed entirely from organic matter that has been modified with another very complex organic compound. The secret was to find the key to altering one natural material with others, without losing its original organic integrity. Our complex process unlocked the key step in altering a living human cell into becoming a new compound without destroying life within it. We're talking about something never even thought about a few years back.

We can take a living plant organism and integrate parts of it with human fatty tissue we'll extract from your own body. Your own body won't recognize the change, because it will still bear the DNA signature of your original fatty tissue."

"I don't understand that kind of scientific parlance. Talk more plainly."

"The new tissue, all of it, including a miniscule network of new veins and arteries all becomes a real part of you, Claire. No one will be able to detect that it was not there all along, ever since you were born, to then embarrass you."

"I still don't understand how I could suddenly change from being one kind of person one day to some entirely different person, at will, as you claim."

"How it works will remain a secret to you. All that you need to know is that by applying gentle, but continuous pressure overnight to specific areas of your body, you'll urge them to change how they will look outwardly to others.

Would you care to see a sample demonstration?"

"Is it painful?"

"Not in the least. Take your thumb and place it on the front of your foreleg. Keep it there for at least a minute. Yes, like that."

I did as he asked. After a minute or so he told me to take away my thumb. My leg looked as if I had an indentation in it. After a while, the color changed and the flesh went back to the way it looked before, none-the-less for wear.

"See what I mean? The fatty tissue in your leg is quite flexible and can be made to look differently, for a short period of time, but it has a definite shape and density it will resume after the external pressure is released. When you removed the ski pants yesterday, the fat at your waist had been compressed for hours. It resumed hanging normally on your body later on, but while you were in those ski pants, I was able to get an idea of how much your waistline could be reduced, if some of the fat tissue there was removed and treated with our new polymer.

To the naked eye, a person's fat appears a lot like gelatin. If heated, it will thin out. Heat it enough, and it will melt, just like white lard made out of pig's fat. Melting destroys fat cells, or, leastwise, it did until a crucial recent discovery.

You needn't bother yourself with knowing more, just now. All you need to know is that we can move the fat around inside a person's body by using gentle pressure to any place on the body where we'd like, once it is treated with our new organic compound. Whola! Instant mammaries!"

"What keeps everything where you want it afterwards? Doesn't it move back to where it was before you've treated it, like it did on my leg?"

"Another very secret aspect of the process handles that issue. By using a variety of different densities of the generated tissue, we make porous chambers inside non-porous sheathes of firmer tissue to keep gelatin-like fat tissue in place where we want it to stay. It's sort of like applying make-up, Claire, but inside of the body. Think it over. You'll get to help design the person you will be able to be. Not only that, you'll also help to re-design the current you. We'll adjust how you look a little, if you'd like. Of course there's limits to what we can do, but I'm sure you'll be very pleased, because the changes resist normal aging. I only wish that we could modify functioning organs to last longer. I have to really carefully watch everything that I eat nowadays, or I suffer from serious stomach distress."

"At your age?"

"Yes. I'm fifty-seven, a sight older than you thought. Eh?"

"But, but, you don't look a day over forty."

"I know. I'm a prime example of the wonders of our new polymer. If we'd have discovered its unique properties years ago, I might have been able to look young as you."

"Why don't you use it on Otto to reduce his --uh-- mass?"

"You mean his blubber, don't you? Unfortunately, dear Otto has declined to participate due to personal convictions. I respect his wishes, although I fail to see why a bit of weight loss would bring him anguish. You my boy, have a whole life before you to enjoy. Why not take advantage of the opportunity? You might regret it later on if you pass this up, and I assure you you'll be glad, if you do it."

"I'm not convinced, yet. How long ago did you have the treatment done to make you look younger?"

"Seven years ago. I was fifty at the time."

"You said that you just got federal approval for the process."

"I had the changes made in another country, where the rules are slack."

"Do you ever feel any pain? I'm very chicken about physical pain."

"You'll be anesthetized, through most of it. You won't feel a thing."

"Can it be reversed?"

"I'm afraid not, but it won't be necessary. You can live your present role in life whenever you'd like. And, an alternative role to your liking will be available.

"Still hard to believe."

"Would you like another little demonstration?"

"Okay."

He opened the sash of his robe revealing his bare, but hairy chest. " I had my nipples enhanced somewhat. Watch this." He applied steady pressure to the inside of his biceps with his thumbs. The biceps didn't change, but his nipples got bigger. I was waiting for him to sprout a pair of tits, but he said that was as big as they would get.

"You have all week to think about it. I'll not rush you to decide, but I'm very certain you will enjoy being my companion at social obligations and the like."

 ++++

 Back inside the guesthouse, I rummaged through the drawers, reveling in the softness of the delicate lingerie at my leisure. Why shouldn't I? No pain, no strain, and no facing public disdain. I'd go through a lot to get back at those three clowns that turned on me in my hometown and outed me. Mr. Higgins explained a process whereby my body could be altered so I'd appear to have a real pussy, if I wanted to have one. Its lips would puff up automatically when my pussy was filled by a man's cock, so a lover would think I was clamping my vaginal muscles on his invading tool. I wondered how it would really feel to me.

The thought of having a pussy made me shiver. I was bisexual, but I didn't fancy being permanently altered into a pretty woman. Until he told me that bit of information about having a dual identity, I was still unconvinced I should agree to being enhanced in any way. He was confident that I'd enjoy attending regal social affairs with him at my side as my doting escort. I didn't care a lot about things like that, but knowing what it was like to feel a man's cock buried deep inside of a realistic vagina, being able to squeeze it hard made my head swim. I'd be able to get fucked just like a real woman, and my lovers would never be the wiser. The concept was enticing, but yet, I was filled with foreboding.

I didn't say anything to Mr. Higgins about my wanting a string of different lovers to court me, and then debase me, treat me just like a real woman, fucking me silly for hours on end. I'd keep that tidbit of information to myself. No sense in my upsetting his apple cart. All I told him was that I'd let him know by the end of the week, when my sore ankle was better.

Trouble is, my ankle didn't get any better. After a week, I returned to the hospital for more x-rays. Something was wrong with a tendon to my ankle up in the foreleg. It was healing okay, but was bonding to the leg muscle in the wrong place, further down, so that it made me walk on the tiptoe on my left foot.

I returned to the guesthouse knowing Mr. Higgins was expecting me to give him my decision regarding the odd treatments he offered me. I looked in the mirror. I wasn't in a lot of pain, but suffered from mental turmoil. If I should decide against staying, I'd probably walk with a noticeable gimp for the rest of my life. If I chose to stay on longer, he agreed to look into corrective surgery for it.

If I stayed on, and always wore heels, the limp wouldn't be as pronounced. I made my way to his mansion, pausing on the patio for a few minutes, not quite sure this was the smart thing to do. I threw caution to the wind and marched thru the tall pair of patio door with the rows small pains of glass.

Otto was there inside the main salon, polishing something or other! "Otto, where is Mr. Higgins! I need to speak to him about something important before I get cold feet and change my mind."

"He's over in his study. Are you going to accept, Claire?

"I think so. Why not? It wouldn't be my first time in dresses. Having all the right equipment on hand whenever I want Clara to come out to play might make it less scary and a lot more fun." Otto scooted right out of the room, waddling like a duck, an overgrown duck. I was getting more and more fond of him by the day.

Mr. Higgins was grinning from ear to ear when he bolted through the door regally attired in a dressing robe, as usual. He escorted me to his study and told Otto to break open a vintage bottle of sherry. "We have cause to celebrate, man. Be quick about it. Bring out the very best sherry we have."

We spent the balance of the evening together, all three of us, plotting out a time table and some grandiose plans regarding places that we'd go and events we'd attend when I'd able to be presented properly to his social cronies. After all, the principal idea was to be his social escort, not his lover. I had a few ideas of my own in that arena, but I wasn't willing to share them with my patron yet.

 ++++

 A week later I was air bound for Atlanta where I caught a connecting flight to a Caribbean island, my final destination. The doctors there had an abundance of the rare tropical fauna needed to convert excess skin into a resilient fibrous tissue to be then shaped into membranes of various dimensions that would be linked together into sets of pouches by tiny tubular tissue made out of my body's fat cell fibers combined with their exotic fauna formula. These membrane sacs would hold the fat tissue they'd remove from my beer belly, taken from the sides.

I was surprised at the extensive detail the lady doctor shared with me. She explained that she wanted me to know what was to be done in advance and how they would proceed through the many steps required that would enable me to be "part chameleon". She also said she would depend on my learning to recognize danger signs so I'd alert her if I sensed any complications. She assured me that they performed these procedure dozens of times before, and I would not likely encounter problems, but my increased familiarity with the human body's ability to heal itself would hasten my convalescence and teach me to use the technology better than if I simply let things happen.

With that, she left me a stack of videos to watch, which I started doing as a nurse took vials of blood samples they said were needed for "cross-matching".

True to Mr. Higgins' promises to me, the fat removal was done while I was fully sedated, and I felt nothing other than a bloated feeling when I woke a few days later. What they sucked out made my waistline look tiny compared to what it had been. They saved my removed fat for its later reintroduction via an intricate network of constructed veins and "pockets" the videos tried to explain in detail.

I didn't care. I only wanted a luscious looking body to sashay around the City of Chicago. The sooner they finished the job, the happier I'd be. I never felt comfortable staying in hospitals, and this one was no exception. All that traffic in the busy corridors all the time annoyed me to no end. Fortunately, I was able to sleep late every day, and I fell fast asleep every evening shortly after my meager dinners were brought to me by the abundant array of lovely young girls. I noticed that there weren't many men around. In fact, I hadn't seen a single one since the muscle-bound attendant brought me up to my hospital-like private room.

 The only distraction available to ease the boredom and help pass the time was the local television stations, half of which were in aired Spanish. Between a few English programs now and then and my stack of videotapes I had little else to preoccupy my time. After a few days of my watching the tapes, they became more interesting. I preferred watching them to the scheduled local programming.

The tape explaining masks and body supports that I would have to wear overnight to change my appearance was the most intriguing. A tight fitting corset would gradually transfer cells in "pockets" at the sides of my waist through many tiny vessels to the large "pockets located on my chest. The fat at my waist would slowly move through the veins to become the bulk of my new breasts. Miniscule pockets were to be introduced under my facial skin to hold my fat cells that would either enhance my masculinity or my femininity, depending on the mask I would put on the evening before and wear all night long.

Gentle pressure applied to my skin by specially designed masks and body corsets would gradually "urge" the complex tissue matrix inside many sacs they'd insert into my body to change my silhouette from male to female and vice-versa. As the network of tiny tubing responded to pressure applied to specific locations on my body and face, gradual transformation took place, overnight. Then, each appropriate fat tissue holding sac would remain either empty or full until another set of masks and body-restricting corsets would reverse the process.

After watching that video for the tenth time, it occurred to me that my penis would have to have its tissue removed and be replaced with sacs in order for it to be inverted into a vagina. If that were the case, my cherished erections and the wonderful tactile sensation associated with them would henceforth be impossible. In a state of mild shock I rang for the nurse on duty to summon the doctor for me. I wasn't about to have the insides of my beloved cock removed!

The lady doctor soon arrived, beaming with smiles and warmth. "I thought that you'd be wondering about your appendage's fate about now. I brought you a new tape to watch. Call for me when you're done watching it. Got to go. Bye!"

The tape began with a commentary on its subject matter frontal view of a woman's vagina, and then a male cock was slowly superimposed over it, while the vagina slowly faded out from view. The screen slowly changed back and forth while a monotone female voice explained that the individual's sexual organs were intact and fully functional -- both sets. How could it possible be?

The tape continued describing how a large, excess parabola of skin tissue was removed from each side of the subject at the waistline and was reinforced with their new compound. Two identical parabolas were a joined together forming a pair of tubular vessels ten inches long and open at one end. A lot of the slightly obese subject's body fat was removed from up above his groin. The double vessel was then inserted in his body cavity in the space created by fat removed from up above his penis. Both the man's testes were then placed inside his body cavity. His empty scrotal sac was reshaped to resemble a pair of pouty vaginal lips surrounding and camouflaging the sutures of double tubes above the penis.

Behind an abbreviated tuft of pubic hair, the alterations were invisible. The subject was able to appear genuinely female by inserting his penis into the lower tubular vessel of the inserted pouches. For all intents and purposes, the buried cock would seem to have "disappeared". The vessels' tissue was so constructed to be very resilient. Each compartment could therefore envelope a man's rigid penis comfortably. An ardent lover would interpret the upper vessel as a genuine vagina by sensations transmittable to his penis from the gripping vaginal sheath.

Using learned muscular control, pulsing his cock within the lower sheath the subject could provide his lover massive tactile stimulation, simulating female orgasms of impressive amplitude. Insertion of the subject's penis into the lower vessel would transfer fat cells to the juncture of the reformed scrotum, now in the shape of vaginal lips to make them appear engorged, with an extended clitoris showing, eager to be violated by a devoted lover's tongue and lips.

I blew my wad twice watching the tape, without once touching myself.

A cute nurse stopped in after I finished watching the tape for the third time. Her name was Nancy. Her shapely breasts would have given me a "woodie" at any other time, but my recent orgasms left me spent and weary. That condition wasn't long to be, because the girl lifted her skirt exposing a cock as big as mine.

She then deftly took her hand and inserted "her" cock into an invisible sleeve hidden up above it. When she patted it smooth, the lips of the "vagina" began to swell, becoming more obvious. She smiled down at me in the bed.

"I squirted a lotion inside that smells and tastes just like real pussy. Want a taste? I can come up and sit on your face, if you want me to. If you're shy, use your fingers. Dip them into my lovely cunt, like this." Her index and ring fingers swept across her vaginal lips and spread them, exposing her tiny, swollen clit.

"See." Her third, or "stink" finger ground into her pussy as she shook her ass slowly from side to side. "It even feels genuine. You can't believe how good it feels to have a thick cock slowly sink into me, like my finger is doing now." She slid the finger in and out rapidly. I gaped in awe. I could swear I saw her vaginal lips pulse from her digital exercise. She took her finger out and opened her oval lips to lick off what looked like a woman's discharge on her finger.

"Mm. Tastes yummy. Want to try some? I know that you can't use me like a man does right now, because I watched you loading several facial tissues with your man juice. So, give me your hand. Dip your fingers inside of me. The lotion I used contains a helper drug that makes people get horny. It's called Love Honey. The more loving I give you, the hornier you'll get. I feel very sexy, don't you? Let me lick your 'woodie' for you, then I'll let you lick my love tunnel."

She suddenly devoured my cock! She was fantastic! I didn't last more than two minutes before she was sucking down the hot sperm spewing out of the end of my dick for all she was worth. Her lips and mouth felt like a pussy, too, just as velvety smooth, and equally hot. She bobbed up and down, with me helpless to resist her, flat on my back in the bed. She acted as if this was her last chance to ever suck on a man's cock.

I ran my hands through her hair and think I almost passed out from getting the best damn blowjob in the world. She was that good! I made a mental note to return the favor to her, soon. To hell with straight sex! I was exhausted when she finally stopped. My dick was shriveled up into a fourth of its normal size. I fell fast asleep within minutes of her leaving my room.

They had promised me minimal surgery. It was a lie. I was taped from my waist down to my groin. I knew that they did to me what was done to the subject on the last tape I had watched. I passed out or fell asleep again, with dreams of nurses in white pants with open crotches lined up in a row to fuck my brains out.

I didn't wake up again until the bandages were removed. My cock was in view, but a catheter prevented me from getting out of bed, I tried to sit up, but the sensations in my chest stopped me. I didn't feel pain, necessarily, but unfamiliar tightness. I looked down. I was wearing a bra, and it wasn't empty. My chest was full of titflesh, poking out at the top of the lace-edged bra cups. Nice. They did it. I had a set of tits of my own. The television was on. A videotape I had seen before was showing. Slowly, it registered. I couldn't remember when I watched this tape before, but I knew what was to come next, all the same.

Slowly, I realized that I had really seen it, over and over, in my sleep. The tape explained how to convince yourself that you feel no pain, no discomfort. The videotape also enabled me to once again tune down my sense of awareness, like I feel when I'm not paying attention to someone talking. Instead of tuning out the monotonous videotape, like I suppose a person normally would do, I tuned it in, and tuned the real world out.

As the captivating images appearing on the screen faded to black and I became aware of where I was once more, my room was dark, lit only by the long shadows of the setting Sun, and my meager dinner arrived. The same sequence of events took place for the next several days, I don't know how many. I realized after a while that I could no longer remember how long I'd been there, watching the videos, absorbing all the information they provided.

++++

After some time, I don't know how long, the video sessions seemed to be redundant. I fell in love with my newly acquired breasts. I played with my nipples constantly, except when nurses visited me to show me how. They'd lick and suck them, and then my cock until I flooded their mouths with my goo. I was insatiable, a nympho, entranced by the pert goodies right under my chin, like a kid lost in a closed candy store. I also noticed that the catheter was gone. I didn't remember anything about it being inserted or removed, only that it had been there.

The only times I took a break was when the doctor or nurses came by to check on my progress. Soon, they assured me, I'd be able to leave, to resume my life. I sat in shock when they told me I had been there for five months. I had no idea. My stay only seemed like five weeks to me, not five whole months.

I also noticed my mannerisms had changed a little. I swung my wide hips from side to side when I walked to and from the bathroom. I also always sat to take a pee. I was super-conscious of my appearance and spent literally hours at the mirror, admiring and grooming my feminine reflection, like I'd been doing it for years. No one would ever guess what I kept hidden inside of my panties.

One day, a pretty nurse stopped by to show me how to disguise my long cock. She gave me a sizeable woodie, so I doubted that she'd be able to fold it double and stuff it into that tiny hole up above its base. She squeezed it so hard, I gasped in pain. It shrunk immediately. "See. That's how to do it, even if it's as hard as a rock. One good squeeze and it'll get soft and small as a wet noodle."

She walked away, after patting it down, leaving me panting from a strange and wonderful sensation, as my vaginal lips took on an inviting, full shape. Those videotapes accurately predicted the resulting appearance of my new genitals.

I remained totally feminine in appearance for days. I reveled in my mirror, gazing at my features, wondering how men would find me. Was I pretty enough a girl for them to want to seduce me? Would they all want to stick their cocks in my mouth, pussy and ass? How would I feel about playing the vixen for them? Was my attitude about gay sex changing? How? Why? Being fucked by a man in this mode wouldn't be gay sex. Would it?

I soon found out. Several similarly endowed nurses took turns, stopping in regularly for grope and tickle sessions. I reciprocated, sucking on their cocks and big nipples with abandon. I couldn't get enough hot, rampant sex with them. They were all equally horny. This was their job, the best damn job in the entire world. They confided in me, telling me that they loved their work, and would work at the clinic for free if they had to. "Turning" meek and submissive men into ravenous, promiscuous sex machines made them tick. All the salary that they needed was enough to get along on, as long as evolving pretty pussies with long cocks were at their disposal for endless sex games. A few of them admitted that they freely dedicated their lives to helping out guys that wanted to live as girls, just like them.

++++

Finally, one day, the lady doctor, the one with the big cock advised me my masks were ready, and my body was ready to test them out. I didn't understand why they waited so long. She told me the complex procedure couldn't be rushed. Sufficient time to allow my body to acclimate to the myriad of inserted fatty tissue holding sacs was necessary. My time to move on to resume my life had arrived.

That night, I wore my male mask to bed with a "chest protector". I called it that because it resembled what a home plate umpire wears to protect him from wild pitches. It was heavy and covered me from neck to crotch, with a bustle to whittle away my bum cheeks. The facemask was entirely different. It was tight and very uncomfortable to wear. I couldn't even flinch in it; it was so tight. Elastic straps across the back and top of my head made it even more uncomfortable.

I had to stick my chin in first then pull the top strap over my head. With it in place, I couldn't move a muscle and couldn't talk above a whisper. Only a mouth hole and nose holes were open, so I could breathe. The other head straps fit into clips on the mask. Each strap had to be pulled tight, until I felt like my face was about to implode from the pressure.

After getting into bed, the doctor showed me how to increase the pressure to my "chest protector". I had to start with the lowest straps, around my hips, and work upward toward my waist, retightening them progressively as much as I was able, leaving my chest straps for last. .

For the next hour, I had to repeat the tightening over and over again until all the slack in the straps was gone. It took several passes before the doctor told me to try to sleep. She assisted me, tightening the straps that time, busily using a marker to show where the straps had to be adjusted in length. She told me I'd have to learn to use a back scratchier with a hooked finger on its end to tighten the straps properly, or find myself a devoted lover to help. We laughed.

A humming air pump maintained tightness all night long. I spent a night in fitful sleep and awoke the next morning haggard and numb. The first thing on my mind was to drain my kidneys. Then I remembered how I was trussed up in the mask and body shaper. It took me over fifteen minutes to extract myself from the clumsy fixtures, using agonizingly painful contortions to reach the over-tightened straps on the body suit.

I'd done it, got the mask and my body form off without help. Henry Houdini would have been proud of me. I rushed into the bathroom, nearly forgetting that my cock was still hidden in its secret sleeve. I had a piss woodie, so I turned and sat down to take a whiz, which ran out thru my pussy. My body was covered with a thin layer of cold sweat, so I took a shower, rubbing my aching flesh with lather wherever the body form's pressure left red marks. I let water pour over me until every pore on my body felt clean as a whistle. Then I extracted my soft cock from the confines of my ersatz pussy. Then, I used a vaginal douche to freshen it.

I grabbed a bath towel off the rack and dried myself, rubbing furiously to promote circulation. Thinking like a woman, I wrapped my full head of hair in the towel. Wiping off the steamed-up bathroom mirror, I saw a stranger's reflection. No, it was my reflection, a definitely a male me, sans much of the bulk that I used to carry around my middle. Even my arms and legs looked good.

I couldn't decide whether I was cute or handsome. I was a chick and dick magnet, for sure. I turned to admire my slimmer profile. Not bad, I thought.

"Satisfied?" The doc was standing in the bathroom doorway, with her arms folded over her ripe tits. She joined me in the bathroom, stood behind me and took my stiff cock in her hands. "Here's one part of you that seems content with the results." Then she turned me around, so my back was to the mirror.

She dropped down to her bare knees on the cold, hard, tile and slowly but sumptuously, stuck my growing wand between her open, oval lips. Three lengthy strokes is all it took for me to pump a creamy load of ejaculate into her receptive, and eager mouth. I swayed on the balls of my feet, trying to catch my breath and maintain balance at the same time. I used the bathroom's countertop for support, as my cock grew soft between her warm, accommodating lips.

"That was fast, Claire. Why? Was it what you saw in the mirror, or my oral talent? Shall I go for seconds, or would you rather tell me what excites you so?"

"I look like a frickin' stud-muffin. My cock must be two inches longer, even when it's totally soft. I don't know how to thank you."

"That can happen to guys, sometimes, if they get the proper oral attention. Good blowjobs from the cocksuckers working here as nurses normally stretches penile tissue that has been topically treated with the special lotion you used to ease slipping your cock into its secret hiding place. It might have grown larger if we had created your cock sleeve bigger. The way it measures up now, it's very attractive. Won't scare off the ladies like a gargantuan cock. Don't you think?"

"It's---, it's---, well, it's perfect."

"Now you know why we kept it hidden away for so long, except when the girls were working you over. We wanted to surprise you. Now we have to test it. Don't we? Guess how you're going to accomplish that, sweetheart? Uh, huh, you guessed it, right in the doctor's special testing units, my hot wet pussy and ass. Come on, I've been dying for you to fuck me for weeks."

++++

Fuck her I did, all morning long, on the bed, in a lounging chair, standing before the mirror in the bathroom and down on the floor on all fours. I took her mouth, pussy and ass in rotation until I couldn't get it to stand up, no matter how hard I tried to beat it to attention. Then, she turned on me and fucked my mouth sore, then my ass sore, and finally my new pussy 'till I begged her to stop. I was afraid she'd wear it out or tear something inside that would prevent me from ever using it to please a man again. And, I sure wanted to use it again that way.

I'm not a smoker, but we shared a thick joint after we were tuckered, and fuckered out for the day. I told her that having sex with her was pure paradise.

She responded by telling me I'd be leaving the clinic soon, knowing that I regretted hearing that bit of news. I would have preferred to stay, to continue being used by the bevy of hermaphrodite nurses there and her body, with her long thick shaft filling me time and again, until I couldn't stand straight (no pun intended). So, I told her so.

"I took a dose of Viagra this morning. In the future, if you want to last as long as I did, you should, too. You're young. You'll be able to last hours with or without it. You may not come after the first hour. So what. Half of the fun of being a great fuck is the staying power and the ride, not how many orgasms you have."

"So, I've noticed. Sex seems to be more fulfilling ever since I arrived."

"Are you concerned that your sense of fulfillment will diminish if you leave? It won't. Not enough to notice. It will only get better and better, as you continue to watch your videotapes and some new training tapes we'll provide you."

"Subliminal messages?"

"Yes, and more. Hypnosis. You think that you've been here for a little over a month. It's been five months since you first got here. Yet, we didn't steal those four missing months from you. They'll come back to you, gradually, without your experiencing the physical pain you would have endured. We do the same for all of our sexual modification patients. Someday, anyone will be able to be sexually enhanced, once our unique procedures are federally approved, and more people find out how great the results are. Anyone with the money will be able to look like an Adonis or a Venus De Milo, even a Marquis De Sade, if that floats their boat."

"Ever feel like your tampering with Mother Nature?"

"All the time, all the time. That's what we doctors do, my dear. We change the human body, usually to fix the things that break down. Here, we're not much different from the med pros in the States, especially approved plastic surgeons, except that we can take the improvement a step further, incorporating biological compounds found in certain fauna to create new tissue superior to that which the human body can create on its own. What difference is there between what we do here and what the stateside doctors do using Teflon or stainless steel shunts to improve the chances for a person's survival when parts they were born with wear and break down? Addressing a person's sexuality with it is immaterial to the vast potential we're developing for its use in correcting defective human organs.

Why shouldn't a distraught person be allowed to be all that person can be, if the opposite gender suits him or her better? We can't create a fully functional cock yet, or the reproductive organs. But, what if we could?

Think about that. A lot of people in the world born as women would be far better off, being men, as well, whenever the mood suits them. You're lucky. Ten years ago, our early results were rudimentary by comparison. Before that, tissue rejection made what we treat as commonplace: the impossible. Now we have the technology to alter a person's appearance at will. Who can predict problems we'll solve in, say, the next ten years? Our findings may lead to the cultivation of living tissue replacements for the heart, the liver, kidneys pancreas, whatever, without our depending on temperamental machinery to sustain patients' lives."

"You sound like I have a role to play in furthering this kind of development. That was quite a speech."

"I've given that lecture time and again in order to raise the funds to further our research. Mainstay investors have ignored it. Some of them think that we're playing Frankenstein. Ach, maybe we are. So what. Think of the eventual benefit to all of mankind. There's a lot to be said for being bold enough to try."

"From what I've seen of it, this elaborate facility you have is substantial. It had to cost plenty. You seem to have generated financial support already."

"Fortunately, our gender modification program appeals to a certain fringe element in the financial world, but not sufficiently at present to enable us to take any giant steps forward in curing even simple forms of cancer, for example.

Investors are fired by their greed. They want immediate gratification from investments. Serious advances in new technology take a long time. Thousands of unsuccessful lab experiments narrow down the range of things that have any potential use. We learn what works by examining what won't work, and then we try to figure out why it won't work. The hours are brutal and the work frustrating."

"I'm very impressed. You remind me of Madame Curie. She died from too much exposure to the element she discovered. Have you any such fear? Do you think what you have found could eventually be deadly to you?"

"It killed my dad. I'd gladly sacrifice my life too, in a heartbeat, if a single child suffering from a presently incurable or untreatable form of MS or MD or childhood disease could live freely, not in need of constant parental surveillance for symptoms that an attack of asthma or epilepsy or whatever is eminent.

She looked into my eyes. "Wouldn't you?"

"Well, doctor, I'm not exactly a brave sort of person, you see. One of the reasons that I'm here is because I habitually avoid risky situations, whenever it's possible. I was evading two muggers when I bumped into my benefactor's valet, spraining my ankle. I guess my benefactor is one of the few financial supporters that you induced to fund your program."

"Oh, yes. So he is. So he is. He's going to pee in his pants when he sees you, next. He'll love you to pieces. But, you're here with me now. How's about we give it another try, Claire? Think you have another orgasm in you? I'd love to find out." She lowered her head to my soft dick and lovingly suckled on it until it grew nice and big. Then she turned around to offer herself to me. "Fuck my pussy hard from behind, doggie style, Claire. Treat me like the wicked bitch I am, a common cur. I need you to punish me for my wickedness. Like you said, I have no right to meddle in Mother Nature's domain, and induce the other researchers here to join me in my quest."

"Me? Why? I think you are a wonderful person for devoting your whole life to your noble cause, and encouraging other researchers, as well. I couldn't abuse you. I admire you far too much. I could never have your resolve, sticking to your guns, in the face of all the adversity you must face. Why doesn't the world feel the way I do about what you're accomplishing here? You must've been brilliant to be able figure out how to treat human tissue with plant extracts that can modify and improve how they function inside a body, without hurting the patient."

Claire, Claire. How the process evolved wasn't simple, nor was it always safe, like it is now. You don't realize that there were many, many failures in the beginning. I hated doing experiments with people, but I had to it, we still have to, in order to advance our research. My dad had resorted to performing unsavory procedures, frowned upon by all his ethical colleagues back in the States; some procedures that are forbidden back home. I never harmed anyone, but I also do some unethical procedures, just to acquire the funding for the real 'brass ring' like Luis Pasteur did. The medical profession denounced him for a time, you know.

I feel so guilty over the things we do to innocent people, like I've done to you. I must seek your forgiveness. Claire. Punish me. Show me your hatred or show me that you're pleased with what I've done to you. Treat me terribly. I won't be able to continue to go on. I won't be able to abide with my selfish goals or how I must be ruthlessly cruel to patients like you to get the funding."

"Selfish? Ruthless? How so? You've done nothing to me that you haven't had done to your own body, as well. Why insist that you need my forgiveness? I volunteered to have these changes. All of your patients did. Did they not? Wasn't it each one's choice to be enhanced, like it was mine?"

"Yes, yes, but the early gender modification attempts didn't turn out well. Some patients now look grotesque, with huge mammaries and horridly massive sexual organs. My father was far too anxious and willing to experiment with using the compound he discovered. He used it too freely, hoping for dramatic results."

"Too dramatic?"

"Yes, I feel I've become the successor to another Dr. Morreau because of those early, botched attempts of my dad. If each new patient doesn't punish me for our past sins, I'll go to pieces. I won't accomplish anything worthwhile in the research department for weeks on end. You must punish me, now. Treat me as cruelly as you'd like. Whip me. Fuck me hard like a mongrel in heat. You must."

"Were the early patients willing volunteers, just like me?"

"Yes, yes. All of them were, --- no, not all of them Mine were, but my father tricked the first few. He advised them that he needed volunteers for experimental surgery for curing their terminal diseases. They have died anyway, he claimed.

I've since discovered that their terminal illnesses were imaginary. He used hypochondriacs as his guinea pigs. He couldn't help or cure them in any way, no one could have. He knew it, too. He considered them worthless write offs, waiting to die and willing to be his guinea pigs, so it didn't matter to him.

It did matter, not to him, but to justice. If he didn't use them as guinea pigs, they would have lived longer, died with a sense of pride, honorably, not as freaks created by a maniacal monster. I once volunteered, so he wouldn't hurt another poor soul with his diabolical ruthlessness. He refused me, and he sent me away. I even know why he married my mother. She was also a genetic researcher. She was the one to uncover the property of certain plants we use.

When my mother tried to eave him over his maniacal quest for success at any price, regardless of how diabolical it was, he brought us here. He operated on my mother and turned her body into a quivering mass of sexual desire. He used every trick in the book.

When he finished changing her, she was as perverted as he was. He sold her sexual favors to the highest bidders for the money to promote his research further. I was too young at the time to realize what he was doing. He told me that she was always a wanton, depraved slut, and that she was no good, a she-devil. I believed every word of it because of the way she behaved.

Before He sent me off to a boarding school. Her enslaved her to pay for my education, every last dime of it. He saw to making her capable. He gave her long extended lips to slurp on rich men's cocks like no natural woman. Her tits were the largest that I'd ever seen. Her waistline was only twelve inches wide, and I admired her beauty, because I didn't know he forced it upon her. She had a genuine Victorian body cruelly created by torturous binding of her slim torso, so tight, she said that she could hardly breathe. I thought she wanted to look that attractive for those rich men that she'd entertain, to get money for the research.

He convinced me that she was a slut to begin with, and her wish was to have her big tits, wide hips, miniscule waist and come-let-me-suck-you-off lips, not his. She too occupied with her research to realize what he was doing, until it was too late. Her research discovered the key flora necessary. Jealous of her, he used her discovery on her, against her, and he used drugs to make her docile while he modified her helpless body into the ultimate wet dream.

Then he kept her high on those drugs for over ten years, enough to drain her will power, to enable him to sell her obvious sexual talents. She turned over her evolving research data to him as she uncovered more. What a way to live. She had a long procession of horny men lined up for her every night to use her thickened lips for their sexual pleasure. His wife, my mom! The bastard.

He tightened her vulva after she had been fucked out over the years, so she that was as tight as a virgin again, and her reworked vaginal lips protruded further, invitingly men, provocatively. He became obsessed with tinkering with her sexy body more and more, while he made monsters of other hapless souls that fell into his ruthless clutches.

I was away at college at the time. I believed in him. He was a prominent, respected, research doctor. My fellow students in medical school would ask me to approach my dad on their behalf, to take them under his wing. His infrequent early letters to me painted a sad picture. He claimed that my mom ran off with another man, to be his party slut. He claimed that she abandoned her devoted husband and other responsibilities for sexual pleasure, all because he was too devoted to doing research to spend time with her in bed constantly, the way that she wanted him to, sharing it with him and other rich men that were willing to pay her for using her body for unusual and kinky sex.

After I received my doctorate, he sent me away again, to Europe to study under the foremost genetic researchers associated with of the Pasteur Institute. He feared my return to discover what he'd been doing. When I finally came back home, he reintroduced me to my mom, but as his obedient slut maidservant. She looked so different then, so outright sexy, I wasn't aware this passionate beauty was my mother. Much later, my dad admitted who she was. He claimed that her new status was a result of her wild lifestyle and frequent disappearances. It made her into a whore, the occasional recipient of my dad's infrequent sexual romps. I didn't recognize her. She wasn't the same person she was when I left for school.

He claimed to have hired her back for my benefit so I wouldn't have to be surprised by being a brunt of cruel jokes men tell about such women. He said she was so easy with her morals, I wouldn't have to waste time seeking casual sex elsewhere. His maid/slut ex-wife would give me the ride of my life, if I asked her, he would laugh uproariously. Unfortunately, it was true. By that time, all that my poor mom was good for was sex. She became the hard slut that he created.

I never used her. I swear to you, Claire. I was innocent. I didn't even know that her mind was so wasted, that she'd be willing to sleep with me at his bidding, her own son, just so that my dad wouldn't do anything weird to me, like the weird things he had already done to her. Until after the day that he justifiably died at her hands, I really didn't know how innocent she was for her voluptuous body.

Her self-sacrifices for him were of no use. He drugged me one night, when he was ready. His preliminary testing was so positive he knew the results of what he planned to do to me would be highly successful. He planned to parade me like his prize bull, and his cow, and his calf before potential investors. I was his prize, his own calf, born from his own loins. That didn't matter to him. When my mother found out what he had done, her mind snapped, and she bludgeoned him. Never was death more deserving to a man."

"Wasn't your mom caught and tried by a court for his murder?"

"Why do you want to know? Do you plan to turn her in? Mom has suffered enough at his hands. What possible good would a prison term do, now?"

"No, I guess I wouldn't turn her in. I believe she had the right to kill him for what you say he'd done to her alone, let alone what he did to others."

She wasn't responsible for her actions. Her loving act was justifiable, and her mind wasn't functioning clearly at the time. I was her judge and jury.

We own this entire island, Claire. I was his only heir. I made his untimely death appear to be accidental to preserve the estate and do what a son should do: protect his mother, even from a vicious dad. I failed her when I was younger by my blind belief in the things my dad had told me. I wasn't going to fail her then.

A sudden heart attack, and then a long fall down the stairs out in front of our clinic. We were exiting the clinic together, the three of us. My father was in between us. He clutched his chest and he fell down the stairs. No one bothered to question what happened. Our staff of fifteen employees knew what he'd done to me. Was it out of pity for me, of for my mom? I can't really say, but every last one of them backed up the testimony we gave at the inquest. He was seeing an associate for a bad heart. The associate corroborated our story. That was that."

I planned to destroy his records at first, and then burn the place down, out of defiance toward him. I didn't want him to be honored for positive achievements in any way. He didn't deserve it. She stopped me. After dad's death, I weaned my mother off of the drugs he'd been giving her. Thankfully she recovered in time to stop my plan to destroy his research. She said it wasn't his. It was hers. She told me how she discovered the enzymes in certain plants that affect, but don't alter human tissues. He claimed they were his. She let him, because she loved him, and she believed influential investors would back him more readily than her.

She continued to do her research and made more advances. She said he started to act oddly toward her, jealous of her ability to define things he didn't. As a loving wife, she supported him, regardless of his changing attitude toward her. He suggested she test the compound on herself. She didn't know he added a few drugs to the mix, to rob her of free will, so he could manipulate her and get her to divulge everything she learned to him.

Claire, I've said enough. I was responsible for her disgrace. Had I been at home, I'd have seen what he was doing to her and I could have stopped him in time. I was too self-centered then, having a good time, away at a boarding school for privileged kids. Then I went to college, and post-grad work. Mom suffered at the hand of a true villain, while I was off enjoying myself."

"You were a child. How could you guess at what he'd been doing?"

"That's the only excuse that helps me retain my sanity. That's what mother says to me, all the time. Mom insists that I not destroy a single word of my dad's voluminous records he kept meticulously, since he turned her into a trollop.

She also insists she's responsible for many significant breakthroughs, not him. If my mother's excellent credentials and intellect had been better received by a dominantly male society, she wouldn't have needed to defer to his notoriety. She too, felt that she was to blame for my dad's growing obsession with being the world-famous biologist and genetic engineer. She still defends him, poor soul.

Out of my respect for her alone, after reading the detailed account of what he had done to her over the years, I must try to redeem his twisted interpretation of the values of her findings. True, I still use the technology they started, but only when the subjects know what is in store, and have a valid cause for treatment."

"Oh? What makes my cause so valid?"

"You're a registered sex deviant, are you not?"

"Yes, but it happened when I was in my teens, and a case of three guys giving the police one story, and one guy telling them a completely different story. I was framed. The media blew it out of proportion."

"Aw, admit it, Claire. You love wearing frocks. Your psychological profile shows definite indications that you have strong feminine traits and preferences. It isn't a crime to have girly feelings, you know. Why not run with it! I do. We're two peas in a pod, with similar sexual tastes. Haven't we proved that this morning?

You'll see. After you resume life away from the clinic, we'll stay in touch, so we can monitor your activities and advise you. If anything in your body goes haywire, you can return here for a tune-up. Otherwise, have fun! Enjoy life! Why live the life of a perennial scared male when a lack of courage, for which you're blameless, allows you to appear to be a shy and innocent waif? Use the tools we gave you to your best advantage. That's why we gave them to you."

"Be a crossdressing faggot, right?"

"Whoa. You can crossdress if you want to, but people with pussies belong in dresses. People with hard juicy cocks belong wearing the pants. Right? If so, take your pick and hide your dick when you wear silks and lace. Pull that dick out to scream and shout when you're wearing the pants around the house."

"People don't pick and choose what sex they are."

"They can nowadays, when they go to bed at night and you're one of the first. Hey, don't knock it. That hunk of a man waiting for you in the states is going to treat you like a fairytale princess, or my instinct for human nature is failing. He has been calling for progress reports every few days. Not him, necessarily, some frump named Otto."

"Otto's been calling here? Gee, I almost forgot about him, it's been so long since I heard his odd English accent and his funny choice of words. Hearing him talk is like watching old British war movies on the late show."

"Is that what you do for evening entertainment?"

"It's what anyone who becomes a social outcast does. Not a soul from my high school would have anything to do with me anymore, so hanging out with the crowd wasn't a viable option. They were all afraid of being called queer. The girls were far worse. They heard about what I had done in drag for the three guys and thought I was responsible for their horrific dilemmas. If any girl refused giving her boyfriend an occasional blowjob, she could guess where her boyfriend would go looking. In public, guys jeered and made fun of me, but they called, and called, and begged me to meet with them someplace secluded for some hot action.

That's what they thought I wanted from them, hot cock action. They were so dense; they didn't consider that all the action involved comes from the sucker, not the suckee. Even if I wanted to suck their lousy cocks, I wouldn't go, fearful of being set up for another double cross or a royal beating, like the one I got the first time I was caught out wearing a dress. So, I stayed at home every night to watch a lot of late night TV."

"Claire, you'll never need fear consequences of your compulsion to wear women's apparel again, not ever. Anyone seeing you in your fem mode will see a delightfully charming and sophisticated young lady. What they won't know is the passionate she-devil that you can be in bed. Here's a cheerful note. You can get married and settle down with a handsome sexy guy from Seattle and have a wife and house full of kids of your own in Walla-Walla."

"Walla-Walla?" We laughed until our sides hurt and I thought we'd burst.

When we stopped laughing, she kissed me on my forehead and softly told me that she'd miss her little girl. I saw a tear fall from her eye. It was so touching, I felt like bawling like a little baby myself, but that wouldn't do. I was in my male mode. Real men never eat quiche or let anybody ever see them sweat, don'cha know. (WINK!!!)

Well, sports fans. Part two's in the works. Watch for it! Xoxox, Virg.

   

  

  

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