This is a work of FICTION for ADULTS only. Do NOT read this if you are under 18 or if you are not an adult according to the laws of your state or country. Do NOT read this if you are offended by fantasies involving sexually explicit material.

Written by Bethany Jacques. Comments welcome to bethjac@hotmail.com 

  

Little Big Man

by Bethany Jacques

   

It really is difficult to believe. Out of such chaos and misery could come such bliss. The misery was quite a while ago now, that fateful day when I arrived home devastated. That afternoon old Gilligan had called us all in, the whole sales team. The company had decided to restructure and we were out. All five of us. Out on our ears, with immediate effect. The weekend starts now, and don't bother coming in Monday. Sacked, at my age. OK, the other four guys, none of them was over 25 but me, well, I was 'over the hill' at 35, certainly in this trade, what chance would an 'old man' like me have of finding another job? Certainly not in Hackfield. Most cities may have two or three other possible businesses where I could use my skills but not Hackfield. It was Gilligan's firm or nothing.

I had to hand in the keys to the company car, and take the bus home. What indignity. Walking down the road towards the house I wondered what I was going to tell Leslie. But it didn't matter. I called out as I opened the door - no reply, maybe she was visiting someone, even shopping perhaps. I opened the door to the lounge. And yet more disaster, the ultimate disaster I had always dreaded, faced me.

There strewn across the floor, were my clothes. Not my suits, my sweaters, pants. My 'other' clothes. My dresses, bras, panties, and my makeup bottles and tubes and my shoes and my padding. Leslie had found them. Obviously. Hell, and my photo album. They were ruined, all ruined. The dresses were torn or cut, the tights were ripped, the make-up was all in a big bag, tubes opened, everything smeared and mixed up. My shoes had been broken, all the heels had been hit with a hammer or something. And my breast-forms, my prize dressing item, they were cut and pulled apart. Un-usable, the lot.

And in the middle of all this mess, in the middle of the lounge, was a letter. Addressed to 'Mike - or - whoever - you think - you - are'. I opened the envelope. Loads of cash fell out, all in fifties and hundreds. I counted them, nearly twenty-four thousand in total. What the heck?

I looked again, there was a letter.

'Mike. You disgusting pervert. So this is where all our money has gone. Here is exactly your half of what we have left. Get out of my house before nine o'clock or I'll use my half to pay someone to beat you so senseless. How could you. L."

No 'love from Leslie', obviously. I looked again, she had torn several sheets out of the photo album. All showing me in varying states of undress, usually with really tarty make-up, shoving one of my dildos or something else similarly shaped up my ass.

This was it. The end. I had three hours to get out. I could do it of course, grab a couple of suits and so on and go. But go where. And then do what? No job, no wife, no house - it was hers, inherited from an aunt. I just sat there and felt very sorry for myself. Finally I knew the only way out. I walked back into the hall and opened the small drawer by the phone and took out my gun. I went back into the lounge, sat on the floor surrounded by the remains of all my finery. I put the barrel into my mouth and pulled the trigger.

It clicked. That's all, it just clicked. Then I noticed the ammunition clip was empty. I checked in the drawer again, she had not left me even that way out, she had taken it. I sat down again in the middle of the lounge floor and looked round. It was not all there. All the stuff I had hidden in the loft was there, all in tatters or ruined.

But - a small ray of optimism. My new tart's outfit stuff wasn't. I'd left it in the garage, well out of the way behind some old tools so that I could get at it that weekend. When Leslie had been due to be at her mother's, when I had been going to dress up really sexy and do disgusting things with my new maxi-dildo so I'd got all the stuff out of the loft - maybe Leslie hadn't found that.

I rushed into the garage and pulled the tools out of the way. The two bags were still there, untouched. I dragged them out and into the house and up to the bedroom. It was at that point that I think I became rather mentally unhinged. I remember everything I did but I can't for the life of me explain why.

It was because a single realisation came to me. No job, no house, no wife. Nothing. In a way I was free - suddenly - from convention. Heck, I'd just tried to commit suicide, that was certainly unconventional. My thought processes seemed logical to me though I do realise now I was definitely unhinged. I seemed to be moving automatically. In the bedroom I stripped. In the shower I smeared Leslie's depilatory cream all over my body and watched my light brown body hair sink down the plughole. I'd always thought of removing all my body hair but I had always chickened out, afraid of what Leslie might say.

I dashed back into the bedroom with the bag and pulled out the new breast-forms I had bought from one of the bags. Totally unrealistically I had wanted, in the privacy of my own house and alone, to show the biggest pair of boobs I could possibly get away with. By that I mean which I thought I would look good in, me with my slightly warped and twisted mind. Which is why the breast-forms were a little on the large side. I had measured them earlier, I thought I'd end up with 48DD boobs. Not just big, but very big.

I unwrapped them and smeared the adhesive over the back, then lay back for a few minutes to allow them to adhere to my chest. I thought I had better put a bra on while I was still slightly lying down so that standing up wouldn't put too much strain on the adhesive. I had my silver 48DD bra ready.

The next hour seemed to fly by, again I remember absolutely everything I did but have little real idea of the thought processes which went through my head. But I have an over-riding image in my head, at the end of that time, of sitting on the stool in the hall, looking into the long mirror there, and trying to dial the phone with my long nails. Long vermilion nails that is, a deep bright red color and long, nearly an inch longer than my own. Totally impractical but I still have the memory of extreme satisfaction in wearing nails which went with the rest of my 'look'. Over the top, that was the idea.

I looked so very over the top. I had never been of the opinion that I could make a convincing woman when I was dressed. Too tall for one thing, just six foot. OK I know there are quite a few women that tall but they are mainly sensible, very few have a penchant for stiletto pumps with 61/2" spike heels. I did. As I looked in the mirror I liked what I saw, even more than I had done in the past. The shiny black patent pumps showed off my long legs well, as did my sheer black seamed stockings. As I sat there listening to the dial tone for a few seconds my eyes moved upwards in the mirror, over my long sexy legs, past my knees, across the smooth acres of thigh exposed by my too-short skirt. I smoothed my stockings, revelling in the experience as I watched my red-tipped fingers oh-so smoothly sliding across my nylon-covered flesh.

"Er - hi there. Can I have a taxi please? Yes, as soon as possible. Yes, that's right". I gave the girl on the line my address, placed the receiver down and waited. I knew the taxi firm quite well, Leslie and I had used them a few times. They were quick, the girl on the line had said less than ten minutes, I knew she would be right. I stood up and looked again into the mirror, my gaze continuing to scan upwards. Past the high hemline of my tight black leather micro-skirt, past the tight silver top which hugged my figure closely and showed it to best effect.

And what an effect. The tight top over my bulging tits, the low cleavage revealed, I was delighted with the results of the 'make-over' on my chest with the new bulging boobs, the smoothness of the surface covering the edges where the breast-forms met my own skin. I looked carefully, I just couldn't see the join. I had 'real', massive, tits! Wow!

I remembered a comment from the assistant in a trannie shop where I had once gone for a make-over - Harriet, I think her name was. I had tried to get her to tell me just how good I did look. She had been reluctant, then I realised she hadn't wanted to lie but didn't want to put off a potential customer. Finally she had come clean, basically saying that I was too tall and had the wrong sort of face to be really mistaken for a woman.

Maybe sitting down she had said, and certainly not in daylight. I had thanked her for being honest, she had finished by telling me to keep away from high heels. I almost told her 'I'm a transvestite - I can't', but I didn't say it.

As I heard the taxi pull up outside I glimpsed my legs again in the mirror. So much for Harriet's advice! I checked my make-up once more. The long smooth blond-ish hair, the very carefully over-made-up face, I liked what I saw. Obviously. I had gone too far with the make-up but that had been deliberate. Quite heavy over my face, black eyeliner, thick false eyelashes with deep coal-black mascara. I had even shaved off my own eyebrows and replaced them with careful application of eyebrow pencil. The full effect, offset by thick gold hoop earrings, a wide gold choker, three bracelets, five big heavy 'gold' rings on my fingers. I looked good. But then I would think that wouldn't I?

Just for once I didn't care if any of the neighbors saw me. This was to be my final exit. Outside my front door for the last time I checked in my purse, id cards - well, maybe I should keep them. Make-up, Leslie's letter and the cash, keys. Keys? Wouldn't need them. I took them out and posted them back in through the letter box of the locked door. Finished. Michael was finished. I turned and strode proudly out to the taxi, head held high, chest thrust out, boobs bouncing, boy did that feel good. I looked at the taxi-driver, his mouth was open at the sight heading towards him but he didn't drive away. I opened the door and got in.

"OK" I said, thrusting a fifty note at him. "Drive."

He did. As soon as we got out of the street and round the corner I leaned over towards the driver's compartment and in as sexy an impression of a female voice as I could manage, which was probably not very female at all, I told him to drive me to the truck-stop just outside Hackfield, on the northern side of the freeway.

I couldn't see his face but I did hear a grunt from him, a rather disdainful sound. He knew what was going on. I know now why I had chosen that particular place though at the time I really was still on autopilot, just reliving out a fantasy without really considering any sort of consequences. I'd seen a report in the local paper about that place, it had been raided by the cops a month or so earlier and several trannie hookers had been arrested there. Trannie hookers? Well, now that could well be me.

It was getting dark when the taxi pulled in outside the truck stop there. I handed the driver a fifty and beamed at him saying 'Thank you darling' in a rather silly high-pitched voice. Totally unconvincing. He sneered at me and drove off. I turned. I pushed open the door - and I went in. I stood there on the threshold and looked. There were about five or six men in there. They all turned to look at me. I froze.

I heard the door close behind me, heard the grating squeak of a badly oiled hinge, and shivered at the noise. I 'woke up'. Came out of my reverie or whatever it was. Suddenly I was awake, totally, more awake perhaps than I had ever been in my life. I looked round. Hell!

The guys in there were all looking at me. Not surprising really considering what I looked like. I could just about see my reflection in the plate glass at the side of the truck stop. It was really getting dark outside, the reflection was quite clear. And what did I look like? A trannie, that's for sure. Far too tall and too well-built for a woman, I was sure absolutely every man in that diner was looking at this totally tarted up transvestite in disgust. So how the hell was I going to get out of this? How was I going to get out of that diner alive?

I shivered again. There was no way I could run away. The taxi had gone, I was on my own. I just had to, in some way, brave it out. I had never really thought of myself as having courage but it must have taken some nerve to do what I did next. I walked forwards towards the bar, remarkably steadily considering my skyscraper heels. Looking back I am amazed I did it. My very first outing dressed up. And here I was, strolling down between the tables. It did feel good.

All sorts of emotions washed over me. The main one was simply pride. I was proud of myself. Proud of the way I looked. Proud of being, in some way, a woman. What the hell, I knew I looked like a man in a skirt. A pansy, a poofter, a fag, a guy tarted up, a caricature of a woman. But I loved it. Even the leers from the truckers in there, they began to cat-call as I approached the bar. As a guy I had been average, middle of the road, a nothing really. But as a woman, like this, I was something even if the closest words to describe me were probably 'trannie slut'

"Well hello there gorgeous"

I stopped. I shook. The guy sat at the bar had just spoken to me. He was looking straight at me, at ME! At the slut right in front of him! I smiled rather weakly and took a deep breath, feeling my massive fake tits swell out as I did so. He noticed that! I moved forward again, more confident in my ultra-high heels now, and slid my tightly wrapped bum onto the stool next to him. I sat up tall and proud and enjoyed yet again that wonderful feeling I had experienced so often in the privacy of my own kitchen as I slid one nylon-encased leg over the other.

"Well hello there honey" I purred in as provocatively sexy a voice as I could manage. I heard myself and thought there and then 'That sounds pretty good - Michelle'.

Michelle? Well, or course. Like many TVs I had chosen a name a little similar to my original name. Michael? Well, right now I was obviously Michelle.

"And what do you call yourself, little lady?"

I heard the mocking mutterings from the other five or six guys in the diner, not very loud but loud enough for me to hear.

"Lady - huh!!"........ "Little lady, what a laugh!!"...... "Little, that he isn't, not with those tits eh?"

I tried to ignore them and turned back to the guy who had asked me.

"Michelle" I said, not muttering now, much more clearly, much more confident. And very daringly I reached out and laid my right hand on his. What the fuck was I thinking about? Well, to this day I really don't know. That 'madness' which had taken me over was still there to some extent, I was still not in total control of my actions, going through the motions of being a trannie slut without really realising it. I was oblivious to the consequences, just acting out a fantasy without thinking about it. Fantasy, yes, I got a real thrill as I looked down and saw my own somewhat feminine-looking hands, extra-long scarlet fingernails and all, caressing that guy's own big gnarled hands.

"And what do they call you, lover?" Had I really said that? The tittering and cat-calling carried on behind me but this time I didn't look. Autopilot or not, I was still enjoying myself.

"I'm called Big Mack" he said.

The noise behind me increased, it sounded much more than the few men I knew were really there.

"Hush up you all!" called out Mack, looking past me at the 'crowd'. Suddenly it quietened. "Well, Michelle. I reckon after what happened in here last week you've got some guts and I'd like to buy you a drink. How about it? I've been on the road for two weeks now and I ain't getting any and my old woman's prob'ly shacked up with the bastard from the store she works at. All I've done is jack myself off ev'ry night for two whole weeks so I reckon I deserve some. And since there ain't no others queuing up for me, honey, I reckon you may well do me just fine."

At which, to my total amazement, Big Mack moved his hand away from mine and slid it up my leg, from just above my knee until it was so nearly sliding up under my micro-mini. I shivered. Hell, I shook visibly, this was SO amazing, I just couldn't believe it. Had it happened at last? Had I got myself a man?

"Hold on Mack." A voice came from behind me. I was about to turn when, out of the edge of my view another man, almost as wide as Mack, moved between us. "Let's find out what this 'girl' is out for. I heard about last week too, the trannie guy was asking twenty dollars a suck and got greedy when somebody wanted to fuck him. So how much is this big tart charging?"

I looked at him, then across at the other four men behind him, still sat, hardly eating, intent on the events unfolding in front of them. They were all, well, nearly all, well built guys. Apart from Mack and this guy, one of the others seemed tall, two of the others were shorter but all of them were big and wide except for the tall skinny guy at the back. Any one of then, except maybe him, was quite capable of beating me to a pulp if he wanted, indeed probably any one of them could kill me with his bare hands. I smiled at the big guy.

"So honey, what's your name then?"

"He's Fat Jack" butted in Mack. "Hold your horses, Jack, I'm first. I can see your snake is getting excited already bit you can wait your turn, I'm first."

He turned and spoke to me, again putting his hand on my leg and this time sliding it just a little up under my skirt to reveal my stocking tops and a hint on my bare thigh. I looked down between Jack's legs, then at the same area below Mack's belt and realised. These guys were all excited. Both their cocks were getting larger. And I had done that! Whatever else happened, had done this, got these two men aroused and in all likelihood the other guys too.

"Well Mack, I'm not greedy. Not for money anyway. How about buying a girl a drink? A gin and tonic and then I'm yours."

Mack didn't need to be asked twice, he looked towards the guy behind the counter who moved quickly and then put the glass down in front of me. He raised an eyebrow at Mack, then went back and came back with a large bourbon which he handed over to Mack.

"Cheers" I said, smiling, raising my glass towards Mack and drinking deeply, I was ready for that. I usually drank beer, never was too hot on harder liquor, but this time the G and T seemed more suitable. Mack took over half of his double down in one go and then reached over to touch my neck ever so gently, though he wasn't so careful when he slid his hand down and over my 'breasts', and then had a feel down in my cleavage.

"Now, darling, take your time" I cooed, trying to look and sound sexy. But Mack was not so keen to wait, he was aroused and in something of a hurry. He squeezed my right breast and got up off his stool, reaching to grab my right hand and drag me after him towards the corner of the bar. Not private, not secluded, but not quite so on display as we had been sat up at the bar.

I was new to this but I had fantasised about it so often that I knew the drill, or at least I knew one version of it, the one I had read about in so many stories and dreamt about so often. It started with a kiss. I was ready for that as I sat down next to Mack and his big meaty hand settled yet again on my thigh, this time sliding up even further than before. He looked down sat my exposed stocking tops, at the garters holding up my sheer seamed stockings, and groaned.

"Christ. Michelle or whoever you are, you do sure as hell turn me on. I haven't felt so horny in years. Come here!"

I was kinda ready for anything at that stage, but not for the ferocity of Mack's advances. Within seconds he had pulled me on top of him and grabbed my ass close to him so that my tiny thong and my bulging ass cheeks were exposed to the world. Or at least to all the other guys who had moved up closer to our corner so they could watch. Mack buried his face in my neck, nuzzling me hard with his lips and his unshaven chin, then pulled my top away from my shoulder to reveal my very ample and well-filled bra cups.

"Jeez you do make one helluva woman" he moaned as he tried to slide a hand inside to pull out my bulging tits. "You sure smell like a tart should, I've seen some trannies in my time but honey you do sure take the prize. Heck, I need to get my monster out."

Mack had to heave me to one side, he was none too gentle with me, to try to unzip his pants. Not that I was ever in control of the situation but at that moment he definitely was, I decided that I needed to in some way assert my 'womanhood'. I leaned and nibbled gently in his ear, noticing the traces of bright red lipstick I was leaving there.

"And you, my darling" I murmured "are one helluva man. So lover, let me help you there."

And I did! I really did! In the corner of the bar, with half a dozen other guys watching me, I reached out and pulled down the zip of his pants, surprising myself at how well I did it despite the scarlet 2" nails which I was wearing.

I slid my fingers in and grabbed his bulging cock, pulling it free. Mack sighed with relief that it was freed from its prison. I could see it now for what it was, the very first man's cock I had held other than my own. It was only about 6" long and not really very thick. But it was my first. I felt so proud, I just had to lean down and tease the very tip of the bulging cock-head with my tongue. The taste was really something, I had expected it to taste salty in some way, I was rather surprised at the creaminess and the texture of his pre-cum.

But I wanted more. I pulled at his pants and then at his shorts so that the whole lot, his cock and his swelling scrotum, were exposed. And more than that, available. I was really not too sure exactly what Mack had in mind so I set to it quickly, fondling his balls and sliding my red-tipped fingers gently along the whole length of his exposed cock. I looked up.

Mack himself was lying back against the bench, eyes closed, with a look of extreme contentment on his face as I traced my fingers back and forth. I looked round. All the other guys in there were staring. And Fat Jack was at the bar, looking over, and had his own cock out, he was wanking as he watched us going at it.

"Mack, my darling. What would you like me to do now? I only want to please you my lover. Do you want to fuck me? Do you want your cock deep inside me, squirting your gorgeous cum hard up my hole?"

Had I really said that? Wow!

"Oh please--" Mack groaned, and pushed my head downwards. I had no choice - I slipped my rich red lips over his swollen dick. I encircled his cock-head with my tongue and began to tease it and move it round in my mouth. Soon I couldn't move it round, it almost filled my mouth. With my left hand I stroked his shaft harder, and with my right hand I squeezed his balls ever so gently, all the while sucking him hard and looking right into his eyes. I kept on sucking and he kept on swelling in my mouth for several minutes, then he grabbed my left tit and began to groan loudly. I couldn't say anything, my mouth was full!

And then it happened, the inevitable. All this time I had been terrified someone would come into the truck stop, a cop maybe, checking up on the place again. But no-one came, no-one interrupted us. And I could tell, I'd been there, done that, that Mack was ready. But the speed with which he reached his climax surprised me. One moment I was happily sucking on his bulging cock as it moved around just a little in my mouth. And the next - well! It was alive! Of course it was. But it really did seem to take on a life if its own, bucking and thrusting and pulsing deep in my throat.

The pulsing was totally amazing. It just shot and shot, what seemed like gallons of hot thick sticky cum, the cock-head was so deep in my throat I couldn't really taste a lot at first, it just shot straight down my gullet. I was determined not to let 'my sex' down, to prove I could give head as well as any other woman, I really did need to show what I was capable of. I clamped my lips tight on Mack's cock all the while as he was cumming, shooting his load into me, fucking my mouth, swallowing hard as it poured down my throat and into my stomach.

"Michelle, fucking hell, that was fucking brilliant".

That was all Mack said as I slid my mouth off his shrinking erection. I looked at him, he was spent. He was just lying back on the bench. Moaning. Sweating. Pleased with himself. And, from the smile he was giving me, pleased with my performance too. I was thrilled. I had satisfied 'my man', performed up to scratch. I wasn't really sure why, it just felt good. It was not until quite some time after that very first experience that I finally understood why.

But I didn't have time to ponder on the philosophy of being a woman at that time. Fat Jack was walking in my direction. And walking rather unsteadily too, his cock was already out, he had probably been playing with it for quite some time and the results were obvious. And it was BIG! So much so that with his pants and shorts open and that thing sticking out he couldn't really walk properly. He limped in my direction.

"OK you cock-sucking faggot. My turn now"

I looked across at Mack, he almost seemed as if he was going to say something in my support, to say something against the insult which had just been thrown in my direction. Insult, yes, but I would have had to admit that it was true. Mack had recovered enough to speak up a little

"OK Jack, go on, if you think you are man enough" he said with a wide grin across his face.

"Man enough!" called out Fat Jack. "Just you wait, I'll show this big trannie slut what a real man can do!"

"Don't say I didn't warn you, Jack, she's a hell of a performer. Hold onto your balls when she gets going, I'm telling you, she could suck paint off a wall."

Well, in a way Mack was 'defending' me. He had said 'she' - every time he referred to me. But I didn't have time to think about that, Jack was already there, his cock facing me as I sat there, it was only inches from my mouth. His huge cock. I just looked up at him and smiled. I breathed in to swell out my 'tits', slid out a very long nylonned leg towards him so that he had to touch it, to grab it, to hold it. And his hand just had to slide along the smooth nylon. As it did so I was watching his huge cock, it jumped, it trembled. Jack was excited, despite all his talk about 'faggot' and so on. He wanted me!

And I wanted him. Already I was an expert on men's cocks. This was my second. I reached a hand up to his bare hairy arm and slid my fingers gently along it, then deliberately dug my long red nails in just a little. The cock in front of me jumped again and a glob of pre-cum began to ooze out. My head darted forward, my lips enveloping the whole of the huge head, my tongue sweeping the juice down my throat. And I began to suck. There wasn't time for any foreplay this time, Jack had been starting to wank for several minutes already and was nearly there.

"Christ, you faggot, that feels good. Oh yes, go on, grab my balls. YES! Oh my.... YES!! Oh Michelle, I'm ... I'm .... Cumming now, oh Jeez."

Within thirty seconds he was. I swallowed the huge erection deeply, or as much of it as I could fit in my mouth, as he pumped hot sperm straight down my throat. It felt just as full as Mack's had, and lasted about as long, thrusting and pumping while I tried to swallow. And then, even more quickly than in Mack's case, it subsided as it emptied. And again, there, lying back on the bench beside me with a self-satisfied grin on his face, was a happy man.

I got up and walked over to the bar.

"I think I deserve another drink, don't you?" I asked the guy behind the counter.

"Sure you do" he said, quickly getting another large G and T and setting it down in front of me. I took a small sip. "And - do you want a job?"

"A job?"

"Yeah. Tending bar here, in the evenings. I can pay you well. And you can charge a fortune for what you just did, you could clean up. I bet loads of guys will come in here to get a load of that. You could make a fortune in tips, I guarantee it."

A job? As a barmaid? Hell, why not? I had to do something. OK I had a pile of cash in my bag but that wouldn't last forever. The logistics would take some thinking about - where could I live? And I'd need a lot more clothes, ordinary things like skirts and bras and pantyhose - and flatter shoes of course. But how would I live? As a guy most of the time, just changing for work, or as a trannie, or - dare I think it - as a woman? Heck no, I couldn't be convincing enough, I did know that.

"I'll think about it" was my reply. Then something else came to mind. "Where's the john?"

"I think you'd better use the Ladies" suggested the bartender with a smile. "Just through that door over there. Don't get so many ladies in here."

His smile widened. I was tempted to grin back but I decided not to, I was going to play it straight, carry on the pretence of really being a woman. I slipped down off my stool, wriggled to straighten my skirt, and teetered across and into the Ladies' john.

I was surprised when I went in. I knew that the men's equivalent in that place wouldn't be very clean, load of guys in and out all day, some of them not so clean or careful. But this one was different. It was painted a pale lemon color for a start, very sweet smelling, and spotlessly clean. I managed to pull up my skirt and sit on the can and do what I needed, despite my very long nails. Then, sat at the small vanity in there, I re-did my make-up a little, ending with a wide bright slash of fresh lipstick. I was ready again for the fray. Then another thought came to my mind. I slid up my top and managed to remove my bra. I stuffed it into my purse, rearranged my top and undid three more of the buttons down the front.

I looked at my reflection. Yes. Even more than before, I was dripping sex. NOW I was ready for more as I as I wiggled back into the diner and across to the bar. One of the other two guys was sitting there, next to my drink, looking eager.

"Hi there honey" I whispered in his ear as I lifted myself onto my seat next to him. "Ready for some action?"

I was surprised at my bravado but I had taken a break and really did want more. He had obviously decided not to take too long over this, his hand went straight away to my tits. Within seconds I had his pants open at the front, I reached in and pulled out his swelling cock. And within minutes I was revelling again in the thrill of a pumping cock shooting his cum deep down my throat. Another guy satisfied. I looked round for number four, he didn't look so keen. He had been watching everything, and playing with himself, but didn't move at all in my direction.

Maybe I would have to work on this one, Maybe I would have to seduce him, convince him to let me into his pants. I stood up and thrust out my boobs, it must have been obvious I wasn't wearing a bra anymore. My tits still stood out proudly. The bartender had yet another gin ready for me, rather foolishly I took it down in one.

"Hi there lover, how about a quick blow job?"

"Harlot!" exclaimed number four. I must have looked startled.

"Don't worry about Preacher Joe, Missy, you'll get nowhere with him"

I looked round, it was Big Mack who had recovered from his experience. He grabbed me and slid both his big hands round my boobs and buried his mouth in my neck from behind.

"Come on Missy, I'm up and ready again, that suck was so good for me, how would you like a good fucking? My snake is hot and hard, how about me coming up your ass?"

Fucking? Heck, could I? Surely not, the three blow jobs had been totally sensational but could I cope with Mack's organ up my ass? Of course I could. I was tempted to turn round there and then, to pull up my skirt and down my panties. But no. What about Preacher Joe? I couldn't let him defeat me, it hurt my womanly pride to be spurned like that. I grabbed Mack's hands and pulled them away.

"OK handsome but wait your turn. Right Joe, what about it?"

With those words I walked up to Joe again, opened my legs and sat across his thighs with my black nylons exposed, with my tits right in front of his face. He gave in. Within three minutes, still spouting obscenities and insults, he was shooting his load into my waiting mouth. And there was just one guy left.

I stood up yet again and looked across at Mack who was still there, waiting, playing with his cock.

"Hang on lover, one more yet" I said with a smile, looking across at the tall thin man still sitting with his coffee.

"Come on Little Big Man" called out Mack. "Come and get seen to quick, I'm getting hot and hard and I'm ready fer this lovely lady."

The thin guy stood up hesitatingly. He looked worried but I didn't care, I was going to have him. As I passed the bar I took another drink of the gin I'd left there and swaggered across to him, swinging my hips and bouncing my boobs.

"Little? Big? Which are you honey, let me come and see. "

This guy seemed different. He was the only one you could really call handsome. He wasn't as stocky as all the other four or the bartender. Well muscled, yes, he was wearing a tight short-sleeved shirt which revealed a very nice figure. I wondered what I would find 'down below'. I got closer. Heck, he really was handsome. I could play this one differently. Be his girl before sucking him off. Be just a bit romantic, if I could.

I reached 'Little' and reached up to put my arms round his neck, noticing that he reacted automatically, he slid his hands round my waist. Suddenly - I wanted to kiss him. I looked him in the eyes.

"Come here my darling, come to Michelle" I cooed, I could see his face looking at me clearly. I felt a hand squeeze my waist, I did so want to.... I stretched my head towards the guy, my lips just touched his...

I heard big Jack's voice.

"Whoa there Charlie, seems to me you're not taking this seriously. This ain't some woman to kiss and cuddle and take your time with, if you're not going to do this fucking trannie slut right you'd better move over mate, let some real men back into her!"

I felt someone grab my arm and pull me away from 'Charlie', then a shout from behind me. As I turned I saw something glisten and looked round at Charlie, his arm was still round my waist, I saw his face - he looked angry. This time it was him who spoke.

"Hold on Jack. And the rest of you fuckers. You've had your turn and I reckon this little lady's done right by all of you. Not it's my turn. Just 'cause I ain't into a quick suck and blow like the rest of you wankers don't mean I should miss out. So back off - 'less you want to make something of it!"

Then I noticed, the bright flash of reflected light I had glimpsed, Charlie was holding out a switchblade, pointing it towards the other men who were backing off. I was amazed, they were fighting - over me! And Jack wasn't backing off.

"Wait up Charlie, this ain't some gorgeous blonde you might want to marry, friend, this is a fuckin' guy tarted up you're talking about. Is he worth spilling blood for?"

"She, you bastard, it may be a trannie but she's done you a favour tonight, you've got your horn off, now let us out of here. Or else. I mean it, I ain't messin' and you know it. Your wife might be banging the guy from the store or somethin' while you're away. But mine left me nearly two months ago now and I ain't done nothin' 'cept work since then, tryin' to take my mind off things. So right now I'm gonna get me somethin', somehow. But I'm gonna do it my way. OK?"

I'd never met this guy before but I could tell , his voice said it all, he really was serious. He held out his billfold towards the guy behind the bar.

"OK Charlie, take a twenty out of there, we're off out of here. Come on Missy, you're with me."

He grabbed my arm and pulled me away from the other guy. I reached for my bag and tottered after him, not wanting to disgrace myself by falling in my high heels. What was I thinking? Disgrace myself? After what I had done? But I managed to stagger out after him, half being dragged, glimpsing the other guys from the bar standing in the doorway looking after us. And seeing the big guy realise his cock was still out and hurriedly pulling on his zipper to get himself looking decent again.

Charlie pulled me towards a truck, a big truck. Probably no bigger than any other but from real close up it looked big. He reached up to open the door, then grabbed my round ass and boosted me up and into the cab. He pulled himself right up behind me and slammed the door, then shoved me again, over the back of the driving seat. I tensed myself ready to hit the floor of the cab and was surprised to land on something soft. The internal light came on, I was spread-eagled across a mattress on the floor at the back of the cab. I realised I had known about this, that some cabs had some sort of 'built-in bed'. So guys could get some sleep pulled into a lay-by for the night. I tried to sit up but was surprised again when I heard the engine start.

"Hold on Missy" called out Charlie. My driver, my 'escort', my kidnapper, whatever, some or all of these. He gunned the engine and I was thrown sideways as he threw the rig into gear and pulled out. I just sat there. Silent. Not, to my immense surprise, worried. Maybe I'd gone past 'worry'. But curious, yes, I wanted to know what this guy meant by 'gonna do it my way'. Then I passed out.

I have now a vague recollection of the journey, but only vague. Maybe about an hour, some of it along main routes, eventually along a track of some kind. I must have been partially conscious when Charlie leant over the back of the seat and offered his arm to help me climb over. I did so, rather indecorously, I had no choice but to reveal an awful lot of leg and bare thigh to him. I distinctly remember having some trouble with my massive high heels on some gravel somewhere. And giggling about it, the combination of semen and alcohol in my stomach was having a weird effect.

And then. I remember waking up, slowly, looking at a rather dirty 'white' ceiling with a single bulb illuminating the room. A bedroom. I was lying on a bed. Again, a slightly dirty bed, it smelt a little. I managed to stand up and then realised - I was not fully clothed! I was not naked, sure, but as I stood there in bra and panties and stockings - I wondered just what had happened. I remembered being at the truck-stop the night before and what had happened there. I knew I had been 'rescued' in some way or other, driven to - to where? I moved towards the window, a bit painfully in my stocking-ed feet over the rough floor. I kicked something. My shoes. I knelt over and put them on, instantly growing 6 inches but happier, feeling feminine to an extent once again. I glimpsed myself in a medium-length mirror stuck to the wardrobe door. My wig was still in place, all my jewellery, and the make-up didn't look too bad either. I pulled the small drapes back from the window and was hit - twice.

The first was the thought - where the hell was I? I could see out clearly, over rolling hills and farmland. Not Hackfield, certainly. And then the second impact - my head! The bright light triggered the instant hangover, and forty or fifty small men inside my skull began beating on my brain with not-very-small hammers. I grimaced at the pain of the mother of all headaches, turning away from the window.

"Mornin' missy, you do look rough. Thought so, you must have had a dozen gins or so last night, not surprisin' is it? Here, get this down you"

I looked up and unscrewed my eyes. This was the guy, the one who had dragged me out of the diner, the one who drove me here. Charlie. That was his name, Charlie. The Little Big Man, that's what someone had called him. But why? I looked towards him, to his hand holding out a tumbler full of a brown liquid with something grotesque and green floating in it.

"Get that down you, Missy, that's my Grammy's recipe for the demon drink, never fails. Grad your nose though, it smells fuckin' awful!"

I did. I just opened my throat and drunk it down. He was right, I just got a whiff as I finished it, it really was disgusting. And the taste was pretty terrible too.

"Heck Charlie, that is terrible. Where the hell am I?"

"Seemed best to bring you home, and you did sleep solid, specially after all that suckin' last night, I bet. Anyway Missy, it's my turn now!"

Just as he said this - the little men in my head did one more almighty blow, I shouted out at the pain. And they stopped! Suddenly. Within a second - the pain was gone, my head was so very clear I just felt wonderful. I sat up and smiled, noticing my big boobs pressing outwards within the constraint of my bra, noticing my lovely smooth legs once more, encased in nylon, my high heels..... I felt good!

"Always does that" said Charlie. "Big thump and then finished. You ready then? I don't do all that oral stuff, we gonna do it prop'ly. I've had a boner all night thinkin' 'bout you there Missy, believe me you do still look a picture. Always did like gals in stockings and heels, like most guys I s'pose."

I looked across at Charlie. His pants were down! He really was going to ....

I could have got out of it. Kicked him hard or something but then, where would I go? I didn't really know where I was, on a farm somewhere but - where? And. He had rescued me, I did owe him something. I'd happily have sucked him off but that wasn't what he wanted. Quite suddenly, I remember being very surprised at it, I was awake - and I was hungry. Not for food, not even for a taste of Charlie's cum sliding down my throat. But for Charlie's cock in me. So many new and different things had happened and all in the past twelve hours, this was going to be yet another new experience. I wanted to be fucked.

I watched as he removed his shorts. My eyes opened wide. He did have a boner - and what a boner. His cock was erect and - well. I gasped! I was erect, it was hard - and it was big.

"I ain't never done this with a trannie. But right now I'm dog tired and I'm horny as hell. I ain't been sleepin' too well so, let's see how good a trannie slut you are, tell me, what you gonna be able to do about this?"

OK I'd seen four of them that night but I was no expert on men's cocks but this one was unusual. It was big and oh-so thick, I just couldn't take my eyes off it. I looked at Charlie and suddenly felt very sorry for him. I had no idea why his wife had left but he had obviously taken it badly. I breathed deeply. Still in no way sure how my day, my week, my life even was going to progress, I wanted to help him. And help me too.

"That's why they call me what they do. I used to be a little kid, not too tall, right up to being about eighteen. But my cock got to full size early so it looked huge. And when I growed it just kept on growin' too. So - Little Big Man, that was the name."

I did listen - but I was still staring. Carl's cock was huge, maybe ten or eleven inches long but it seemed so much thicker than any other I had seen. How did he ever get that thing inside a woman's cunt? OK, maybe he didn't. But if he was married? Presumably he and his wife had good sex at some time in their marriage. Anyway, I was in some way his 'woman' for the moment.

I breathed a little more deeply and reached out, watching my long red talons begin to stroke it, to see the reaction, to see it swell even more and stand up even more proud. Yes! I wanted it. I wanted that gorgeous bulging piece of meat up my asshole.

I lay back. I opened my legs. Very wide.

"OK. Come on Little Big Man. Let's see what you can do!"

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