No Way Out

by

Jean M. Chambers

 

The TV droned on Late Friday night, as usual. Sherrie, my wife of two years, worked late most nights. Someone knocked on the front door and I dragged myself over to answer it. It was Terry, the seventeen year old knock out from down the hall. Her long blond hair flowed like silk down over her shoulders and well rounded breasts. She was the heart throb of all the boys in her high school. She was a looker and a tease, but also very nice. My wife Sherrie had become like a big sister to her over the past several months. Occasionally Terry stopped by while waiting for her father to get home from work. I was an unofficial baby sitter, so to speak, though she looked nothing like a baby. Tonight was one of those nights. She plopped her purse on the stand by the door and joined me on the couch.

I noticed her staring at me from the corner of my eye as we watched TV. It made me nervous. I was taken totally by surprise when she snuggled up next to me on her knees and nibbled on my ear. She ran her hand beneath my shirt and across my chest. I gently pushed her back and questioned what she was doing. She looked at me with dreamy eyes and suggested we get more comfortable. I moved away, telling her not to be silly. Suddenly she was on my lap straddling me face to face. She was turning me on. My hard penis pressed against her privates. Her full, plaid skirt draped over my lap like a table cloth. She grasped the back of my head with both hands and pressed a hard kiss against my lips. I resisted, but her lips were soft and her kiss was incredible. Her touch melted me inside and I kissed her back. Our tongues found each other. Terry skillfully unzipped my pants with one hand while kissing me and gently pulled my penis out. She stroked me. She raised up a moment later, as if to get comfortable, then settled back down. I felt my penis slide inside of her and I froze while she slid slowly up and down on my shaft. Panic filled my mind. She was a minor. I couldn’t let her do what she was doing, even though my whole body yearned for her.

I pushed myself up off the couch in an attempt to pull out of her, but she wrapped her legs tightly around my waist like a boa constrictor. Her hands clutched my hair, holding my lips to hers while she frantically kissed me. She bucked wildly up and down on my penis while I tried to loosen her hold. I was on the verge of coming when I lost my balance and fell on top of her on the floor. Too late. I shot my load inside of her. She moaned loudly in my ear as she came, scratching my back with her nails and arching her back. She was coming too. My struggles to get free were useless and only caused us to buck up and down as if in the throws of passion on the floor. I stopped resisting and lay still between her legs. After a moment she let me go and started laughing. I was furious. She was only 17 and still a minor. When she finally let me go I pulled her to her feet. Her skirt fell back down into place.

I was speechless and pulled her roughly to the front door to push her out into the hall, but the door opened before I could. Sherrie, my wife, stepped in.

"Hi, Terry."

"Hi Mrs. Brown" She said sheepishly.

"Father working late?"

"Yes. I was just leaving. He should be home by now."

"Won’t you stay for dinner?"

"Oh, no. I just came," she stressed the word came, with a glint in her eyes, "over to give Mr. Brown a hard time."

"Hard time?"

"Yes. For letting you work late so often."

"Oh, that’s nice, but I am afraid he doesn’t have any control over that."

"No, I guess he doesn’t have any control." she smiled, glancing at me, "Over you working late, I mean. Well, I’ve got to run. See you later."

Then she was gone down the hall. I watched the exaggerated sway of her hips as she walked. Her pleated skirt swung back and forth in rhythm. She was pleased with herself. I would go to prison if anyone found out I had sex with her and God help me if she got pregnant.

A few days later Sherrie came home from work pissed off about something. I had been laying on the couch watching TV, as usual, waiting for her to come home. She stepped in front of the TV, turned on the VCR, and started a tape.

"You disgust me!" she spat, and rushed to the bedroom.

The tape started. There I was, in living color, screwing Terry on the couch and floor. It looked like we were in the throws of passion. We were kissing hot and heavy, on the couch, then on the floor, where I finished screwing her and collapsed. Only I knew that wasn’t the way it had happened. My mind raced. From the angle of the camera I could tell it was shot from by the front door. The little bitch had set me up. She had hidden a camera in her purse. Technically, she had raped me, but the video made it look like we were making love, hot and heavy.

Sherrie didn’t speak to me for hours. Pleading with her to listen only angered her more. She was abnormally composed when she unlocked the bedroom door and came out hours later.

"So, I’m not good enough for you?" she asked calmly, a frozen smirk on her face, "You want to be with other girls, do you? Fine. Your wish has been granted. You can be with other girls. When ever and where ever you wish."

"You’re leaving?"

"No Scott. You are. Except… not the way you think. From now on you sleep in the spare room. Tomorrow I’ll make you an appointment to start electrolysis four times a week."

"Electrolysis? That is hair removal, isn’t it?"

"Yes" she stated flat and coldly.

"Why would I…"

"Don’t question why, Scott!" she screamed, flying into a rage, "You’ll just do it! And if you ever question me again, from this day on, I will send that video to Terry’s father. So help me God! I’m sure he’ll want to send you to prison as a pedophile for having sex with his teenage daughter. And before I forget, you are not to get your hair cut without my permission."

Without notice she stormed out of the room. I didn’t know what to do, except panic, and not even that would do any good. Biding my time and hoping she would listen to reason some time in the future was the best I could hope for. Appointments were made and I started Electrolysis. It was torture. The pain was almost too much. The alternative was worse. Much worse. The electrolysist said she was told to concentrate on thinning my brows and removing my beard. She would do my arms and legs after. I objected. I didn’t want thin eyebrows or hairless legs. It wasn’t manly. She told me to take it up with my wife, mumbling something about pedophiles. I reconsidered, then resigned myself to let her do what she wanted.

A week passed. Sherrie still wouldn’t talk to me. Then one night she came home toting several packages.

"Put these on, then show me" she said, dropping them at my feet and calmly walking into the kitchen to pour her self a drink.

I looked in one of the bags. There were several packages of stockings. Another contained bra and panty sets.

"These are bras and stockings!" I said in exasperation.

"Very astute" she said in a belittling tone, "You know what will happen if you don’t put them on. Don’t you? Or do you need a reminder?"

She didn’t have to repeat herself. I understood. She was playing some kind of game. Okay. I was game too. I would play along with her until the time was right. I reluctantly went to the bedroom, stripped off my clothes and put on the lingerie. It felt strange. I had never worn a bra or stockings before. Sherrie was standing in the kitchen sipping her drink when I came back out. A smile tugged at the outside of her mouth.

"Very fitting don’t you think?" she snorted, "You will wear women’s lingerie from now on. Including the bra."

"No I won’t!" I spat.

She slammed her glass down on the sink.

"Yes, you will" she hissed through clenched teeth.

I backed off, remembering what she said about the video tape.

"Even to work?" I asked, bewildered, "Someone might notice the bra."

"I’m sure someone will… eventually. Put your men’s things in a box and leave it by the door. Tomorrow I’ll dispose of it."

"You’re serious?" I questioned.

"Yes. I’m serious. Very serious. You aren’t fit to wear men’s clothes, so you will wear women’s."

Wearing women’s lingerie was her way of humiliating me. She would calm down sooner or later, then I’d go back to wearing men’s under things. In the meantime I would play along and do as she asked.

My men’s Ts and underwear were discarded, replaced by bras, nylon panties, and hose. I wore a bra, panties, and pantyhose everyday to work and at home. My suit coats hid the bra line fairly well. The bras were uncomfortable at first. After a couple of weeks I didn’t notice them any more. Putting them on in the morning became part of my everyday routine. Just when I thought things had settled down, Sherrie surprised me again. She came in toting several new pant suits, shirts, and shoes for me to wear in place of my old ones, which she disposed of also. She had me try the new suits and shirts on for her.

"These are women’s suits and blouses. I can’t wear these to work!." I exclaimed.

"Yes, they are, but they only have a slight feminine flair. No one will notice."

"I won’t wear them" I stated flatly.

"That is not something you have a choice in. You will wear them, whether you want to or not. You’re lucky I hadn’t pick something even more feminine."

I stomped back into my bedroom. She was going too far and pissing me off. It was just another way to humiliate me. I wouldn’t let her. It wasn’t such a big deal. I could handle it. I’d wear the damned lingerie and suits.

The first week at work completely dressed in women’s clothes was tenuous to say the least. I kept expecting someone to ask me why I was wearing a woman’s suit or notice I was wearing a bra. No one did. A few noticed my change of dress and even complimented me. Mostly women. I was completely comfortable with it after a few weeks. As the days passed Sherrie bought me a few more suits, each one a little more feminine. I kept telling myself it didn’t bother me. I could handle it. A short time later she took me to get my ears pierced. She selected small Pearls. I complained. My reward was having two put in each ear. A few weeks later I stopped into a pharmacy to pick up some makeup items for Sherrie.

"Will that be all Ma’am?" the clerk asked.

I glanced at him to see if he was being coy. He wasn’t.

"No" I replied.

"Have a nice day, Ma’am" he said, handing the little bag of items to me.

Again I glanced at him, then smiled a little smile. He smiled back indifferently and turned to wait on the next person in line. He had mistaken me for a woman. No harm done. It was an honest mistake. Easily done when you are as busy as he was. But then again, more and more people were making the same mistake.

My hair was well below my ears before Sherrie suggested I have it cut. We went to her regular hair Salon. She told the stylist to give me a softer look. After applying a light frost she cut my hair into a simple shag with bangs. Both Sherrie and the Stylist agreed it suited me. I’m twenty one, but the new hairstyle made me look more like eight teen. They said it made me look perky. That is, if a man could look perky. I didn’t say anything, but I kind of liked it too. Normally, I would have never had my hair done that way, but it did make me look younger and I liked the punk look. We stopped at a restaurant on the way home. We stepped up to the hostess.

"Ladies." the hostess addressed us, "Just two?"

"Yes," Sherrie quickly responded, "two."

"Follow me please." she smiled and headed down the isle to a booth across from the bar.

"Did you hear that?" I asked Sherrie after we were seated, "She thought I was a woman."

"So? At least you’re a cute woman. I think the hair brings it all together nicely."

"Cute woman?" I echoed angrily.

"Sure. I bet half the guys in here think you’re cute."

As if on cue a passing barmaid set two glasses of wine on our table and pointed towards a young man sitting at the bar.

"Compliments of the gentleman" she smiled.

"Point!" giggled Sherrie, "There are advantages to being a cute woman."

"Cute, I may be. Woman, I am not!"

"Have patience, my dear." She smiled, sliding out of the booth, "Follow me."

She started away from the table, then noticed I wasn’t following her. She walked purposely back to the booth, placed both hands palm down on the table, and leaned close to my face.

"Now!" she snarled cruelly with an exaggerated smile.

I followed her reluctantly. We strolled past the man at the bar and he smiled. I followed Sherrie halfway through a door before I realized it was the ladies room. I stopped. Sherrie turned around and hissed again.

"Get in here!"

She pulled me by the wrist. I tried to resist but my shoes slid on the smooth tile floor. The interior was mauve. I looked around the rest room nervously. There were several stalls. All were empty.

"Now, for your first lesson." Sherrie smirked, "How to apply makeup."

She dug into her purse. My stomach filled with butterflies. She had to be joking. Makeup?

"Foundation first."

She held the compact of liquid powder foundation out for me to take.

"Use the sponge and put a smooth coat on your face and neck."

"No" I said defiantly, "I’m already wearing women’s clothes. I’ll be damned if I’m going to wear makeup too."

"No. You will be damned if you don’t. Now, do it!"

I did. Reluctantly. My face had a smooth, beige finish when I was done, like a canvas waiting to be painted. Sherrie handed me a container of charcoal eye shadow and black eyeliner. She told me to look at her if I needed an example of how to apply it. I felt sick as I leaned over the sink and brushed the dark eye shadow on my eye lids. Then I ran the black liner along my upper and lower lashes, then darkened my brows. I felt cheap. She sat a tube of red lip stick, blusher, and black mascara on the sink.

"Don’t make me do this, Sherrie. Hasn’t this gone far enough?."

"No." she stated unsympathetically, "Finish your makeup!"

She folded her arms and tapped her foot impatiently. I picked the Mascara up. Tears welled up in my eyes I stroked it on to my lashes. Sherrie stopped me before I could set the Mascara down and told me she liked it darker. I applied it thicker. It made my lashes look thick, long, and black.

I had started coloring my lips with the red lipstick when the restroom door sprang open and a girl in a mini skirt came in. I froze. She glanced at us, smiled, went directly into a stall, and closed the door. The lipstick felt slick on my lips. I quickly finished filling them in, then applied some blush to my cheeks. If I didn’t know it was me, I wouldn’t have recognized myself in the mirror. Sherrie was right. I was cute. More than cute. With makeup, I was down right pretty. Especially with the frosted shag hairstyle. I looked like a completely different person. I looked like a woman. A pretty woman, wearing a woman’s pantsuit. The sound of a toilet flushing filled the small room. The girl stepped out of the stall and up to the sink next to me to wash her hand. She glanced at me in the mirror. I smiled a nervous smile back, hoping she wouldn’t recognize me as a man.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, "I love that shade of lipstick. What is it called?"

Sherrie kept silent and waited for me to answer. My heart pounded in my chest. I didn’t talk like a girl. If I said anything in my normal voice she would read me for sure. Sherrie knew damned well I didn’t know what color or brand it was. It was hers. I grabbed the lipstick up off the sink and quickly looked at the bottom of it.

"Ruby Red by Avon" I said softly in a slightly higher than normal tone.

"You don’t mind if I try it on do you?"

"No," I said handing her the tube, "by all means, go ahead."

She applied it quickly with skill. I marveled at how easy she made it look.

"Nice!" she commented, examining the result in the mirror, "Thanks. I definitely have to get some."

Then she clicked across the floor in her high heels and out the door. I breathed a sigh of relief. She didn’t even notice I was a guy. Incredible.

Sherrie laughed softly and rolled her eyes.

"Welcome to the ladies room. I’m sure it is much different than the men’s room but, you’ll get used to it."

"Get used to it?"

Sherrie gave me an exaggerated look up and down.

"If you want to try using the men’s room looking like that, go ahead, sister. I certainly wouldn’t. The men wouldn’t appreciate it."

Her words sank in slowly. I looked at myself in the mirror. The change in my appearance had been so slow and subtle I hadn’t noticed. But now, with makeup on, it was obvious. Heck. Even without makeup it was obvious. Anyone who saw me, saw a woman. Especially with the hairstyle I now sported. Thin high arched eyebrows. Pierced ears. Smooth complexion. No beard or mustache. Woman’s hair style and color. Women’s pant suit. Woman’s shoes. Two other women entered the restroom without giving us a second glance. I would have never dreamed it. There I was, a completely straight guy, dressed in women’s clothes, wearing makeup and pierced earrings, and standing in the Ladies room. Sherrie looked amused and satisfied, like the cat that ate the mouse.

"Like I said before, welcome to the ladies room."

I followed her back to our table. She smiled at the man at the bar as we passed. I did too. He smiled back. Great! I thought. Now I’m smiling at men. Next I’ll be going out on dates.

"You should thank me." Sherrie said back at the booth, "I told you I would grant your wish and grant it I have. Wouldn’t you agree?"

"What wish?"

"Your wish to be with other women, like Terry, our 17 year neighbor. You know. The one you had illegal sex with."

"Sherrie, I…"

"Now that you are one of the girls, you can be close to as many girls as you wish. Where ever you wish. Ladies room, locker room, dressing room. Anywhere. And I don’t have to worry about you having sex with any of them. Could you imagine a woman’s expression if you asked one out looking like you do now? What a hoot!"

"But I…"

"And think of all the fun you can have at work now, too, gossiping, chatting at the water cooler, going out to lunch with the girls. They might even let you join the Secretarial pool."

She laughed at her last remark.

"I’m not going to work wearing makeup like this!" I sputtered.

"Why not. All the other girls do. Besides, I’m sure everyone is used to seeing you as a girl by now. Hell. You’ve looked like a girl for weeks, or hadn’t you noticed. Probably not, I think. The change has been slow. It won’t be like you came in to work as a man one day and the next, a girl. Why, Lisa, you look like the girl next door."

"Lisa?"

"I don’t think calling you Scott is appropriate anymore." She said smugly, "Do you? Especially in light of your looks. Besides, I like Lisa so from now on that is what you will be called. Lisa."

Thinking back, it all made sense. That is why everyone I’ve met lately had been treating me different. Nicer. More politely. That is also why a number of people at work were giving me the cold shoulder. They see me as the fag who was turning himself into a woman. I felt sick again. A voice pulled me from my reverie.

"Excuse me ladies. I’m Paul. I’m here alone and was wondering if I might have the pleasure of your company for dinner?"

It was the guy from the bar. I looked up at Paul, then at Sherrie, hoping she would indicate to me what I should do.

"Lisa! Let the gentleman sit down, will you?" she said in an exasperated tone like she was my girlfriend.

I slid over reluctantly and Paul moved in close.

"Any time a good looking gentleman like yourself needs company, you just call" Sherrie flirted.

I couldn’t believe my ears. My wife was flirting right in front of me, her husband! Paul slid his arm onto the back of seat behind me. I smiled at him. My hands were sweating as I rubbed them nervously together beneath the table. Paul was cute, for a guy. Not that I looked at guys much or was interested. He was a guy for God’s sake. So was I, at least underneath the guise I was in.

The waiter came and took our order. I hardly said two words during dinner, but did a lot of smiling. Sherrie and Paul rambled on like old friends.

Paul announced he had tickets to a Ballet in two weeks. He looked me dead in the eye and asked if I would join him. My panic light went on. I couldn’t go to a Ballet. At least not as a woman. I’ve been to Ballets. They are formal things. Women wear formal, slinky, gowns and evening dresses to those kinds of things. There was no way in hell I was going to wear an evening dress like that. A woman’s pant suit and lingerie was bad enough! I was going to let him down easy.

"Err… Ballet? I don’t think…" I started, but Sherrie cut me off in mid sentence.

"…what Lisa means is it wouldn’t be a problem. Will it, Lisa? The two of you will have a great time."

"Great!" Paul burst, looking from me to Sherrie, "You’re invited too, Sherrie. Bring a friend. We’ll make it a double date. Shall we say sixish? I’ll pick everyone up at your place."

Everyone was happy, except me. Things were way out of control. Sherrie gave him our address. Ballet? What the hell did Sherrie think she was doing? I glared at her across the table. When we got home I was going to put an end to this whole charade. Several minutes later we said goodnight. When the check came, Paul grabbed it. I objected, but Paul insisted he pay it. Before Paul slid out of the booth he quickly leaned over and gave me a peck on the cheek. I flushed, partly with anger and partly with embarrassment.

All the way home I steamed. Not wanting to make a scene in public, dressed as I was, I kept quiet.

"What are you thinking?" I burst as soon as we stepped inside the door.

"I’m thinking we need to buy you a dress and shoes, girlfriend. That’s what I’m thinking. And, we’ll have to do something about your breasts. I know a great surgeon…"

"Dress? Breasts? Surgeon? What the hell are you talking about here? If you hadn’t noticed lately, I’m not a girl. I don’t wear dresses and I don’t have breasts! And don’t call me sister."

"By next week you will. An old college friend of mine is a plastic surgeon. I’m sure she’ll squeeze you in. Then we’ll see about squeezing, you, in. Into a slinky gown, that is. Oh, this is going to be so much fun! You are going to be so pretty. I can’t wait to see how you look all dolled up and dainty like. Call work and tell them there was a death in the family or something and you won’t be in for the rest of the week."

She was glib, like a little girl having the best time of her life. I was livid.

"Never!" I yelled, "It will never happen."

She didn’t say a word. She casually walked over to the coffee table, picked up the remote, turned on the TV and VCR, and hit the play button.

"I thought you might object," She said smugly, "but before you do. Consider the consequences."

The tape of me, and the seventeen year old Terry from down the hall, started playing. I was on top of Terry on the floor, bucking wildly. Tears welled in my eyes again. It seemed that had been happening a lot lately. Sherrie went to her room and closed the door.

Two days later I was laying on the operating table in the plastic surgeon’s office wearing a hospital gown,. The surgeon was a nice looking red head. She placed a mask over my face and told me to breath slow and steady. I did. Sherrie smiled down at me.

"Were going to make you look pretty. Real pretty." she emphasized.

An alarm went off in my head. There was something about the way she had said that. She was implying something. I tried to reach for the mask to tear it away from my face, but they both held my arms down at my sides. Everything went black. I felt like I was floating. Images of the past weeks rushed through my mind. It was like a whirlwind ride. Then I woke up in a different room. I felt sore. My chest felt sore. My face felt sore. Why did my face feel sore. There were bandages on my nose, and each of my jaws. I touched them. Then I drifted back to sleep.

I woke up again. Someone was doing something by my face. It was the surgeon. She was pulling the bandages off. She smiled when she saw I was awake.

"Welcome back, Lisa. Let’s just take a look here. You’ve been out for a day and a half. You’ll be fully recovered in a week from the facial surgery. The breast augmentation will take a little longer. Two weeks maybe, before the pain is gone."

She pulled the rest of the bandages off my face.

"Nice. Very nice. You’ll be pleased. You’re quite a looker now. A just sentence for a pedophile, don’t you think? I do. All pedophiles should have to do this. They would see things in a whole different light. As I know you will. I’ll send Sherrie in and let the nurse know you are ready to leave."

I didn’t have a clue what she was talking about. My head was still spinning a little. No doubt Sherrie had concocted some wild story for the doctor. She handed me a mirror and left. I held it up slowly to see my reflection. All I could do was stare at myself. Except for the redness and a little swelling, I looked totally different. Totally feminine. The bridge of my nose had been shaved to give it a pert, little, turned up look. My jaw was much thinner down to my chin, which was now small and rounded instead of wide. My upper lip was arched up in a permanent pout, allowing my upper teeth to show. I had a woman’s face. That was all that kept racing through my mind. What had they done? I had a woman’s face.

The nurse helped me to sit up and I felt the weight of the breast implants sag on my chest. Thirty sixes, I thought. Not real large, but fairly unmistakable. Difficult to hide. Sherrie came in and helped me get changed back into my street clothes, with one minor exception. She had switched my pants for a pleated skirt. I was numb from the shock of it all. I hadn’t known anything about the facial surgery, and the breast implants weren’t supposed to be quite as large. Instead of feeling loose, my bra was now snug and my breasts swelled over the top. When I moved they jiggled. How annoying, I thought. I couldn’t imagine running. They would be bouncing all over the place, just like a girls… breasts. Oh my God. I was a girl. Nothing could change that now. Except for my penis, I was a girl. Forever. Breasts bulged beneath my blouse and my face was permanently feminized. Sherrie had done this to me. She had planned it since the day she got the video tape. I thought she would get over it, but she hadn’t. The more she changed me, the more she wanted to change me. It had gone completely past simple humiliation. Now she wanted to see just how feminine she could make me. She seemed to take pride in it.

We rode home in silence. I wasn’t going to go back to work, but Sherrie forced me to, threatening me with the video. She wanted everyone to see the new me. I was humiliated almost to tears. When I walked in wearing a skirt suit, high heels, and makeup no one blinked an eye. I went directly to my desk. A short time later my boss came by.

"Excuse me. I don’t think we’ve met, she said sincerely. I was looking for Scott."

I turned and stood up to face her, managing a slight smile. She waited expectantly for a response from me. Her face turned slowly into an expression of incredulousness.

"Scott? Oh, my God. Scott? Is that you?" she said in a hushed voice.

I just smiled, held out my arms and presented the new me. A huge smile spread across her face.

"You are beautiful! My gosh. I can’t believe you’re the same person. You’re such a pretty, young girl. Did you change your name? I mean, I can’t call you Scott anymore, can I?"

"Lisa. That is what my wife calls me. Lisa."

"Okay, Lisa it is then. Let me introduce you around then. We’ll just pretend Scott is gone and you are the new girl replacing him. Okay?"

"Okay" I agreed.

Nobody in the office recognized me. The change was too great. Scott was a feminine looking man. Lisa was a very pretty woman, without any manly traces. They all just accepted me as a new employee. I felt a great weight lifted from my shoulders. It was like starting a new life. Wearing nylons and skirts everyday, like the rest of the women, was something I would have to get used to. I didn’t feel comfortable showing my legs to everyone, but it didn’t seem I had any choice in the matter. Dress code said men wore suits and women wore skirts or dresses.

That evening Sherrie and I went dress shopping. I didn’t want to go. Sherrie made me go anyway. She said I could experience how much fun girls had shopping, first hand, now that I was a girl too. I reminded her that although I looked like a girl, I wasn’t. And that I didn’t like men. We went to a large formal wear dress shop. There were hundreds of dresses in as many styles and colors. You could get lost in the place. She picked a few for me to try on. After the third or fourth, I started enjoying my self. It was actually fun. There were so many different looks to choose from. With each dress I looked into the mirror and saw a beautiful woman. A woman of my dreams. The kind I used to see in magazines and wished I could be with. Then Sherrie found the dress she said was perfect. It was a slinky, white, halter toped, evening gown covered in pearl sequins. The dress must have weighed several pounds. I slipped into it and Sherrie zipped up the low back while I hooked the top around my neck. When I turned to face the mirror I lost my breath. I was stunning. The low cut V front of the dress showed off my breasts and neckline. My arms and shoulders were bare and the low back went down to the small of my back. The high side slit showed off my leg, all the way up to the top of my thigh. My heart pounded. I needed that dress. Then I realized what I was thinking. I was a guy, thinking I couldn’t live without a dress. How pathetic! But, jeez! I really needed that dress. We bought it and I carried it out of the shop like a kid with a new prize toy.

Work went well the following few days, but I was still angry as hell towards Sherrie for putting me into the position I was in. It was strange using the ladies room. One time I accidentally walked into the men’s room. I realized my mistake, and exited as quickly as possible, but not quickly enough. A man was at the urinal. He turned and saw me.

"Where are you going baby?" he called, "You don’t have to leave. I’ve got something for you."

The closing door cut off the rest of his lewd comments. Men could be so disgusting. I really wanted to walk back in there and punch him in the face, but I decided to be a lady about it. A woman in a skirt and high heels wouldn’t look right knocking a man down. Putting on makeup and wearing a skirt and heels everyday got old fast too. It was work to look pretty, but the guys liked it. By the end of the day my feet were killing me from walking around in heels, but I liked wearing them. They made my legs look nice and all the guys liked checking them out. Something was wrong with my thinking. I was working too close with the other women. Not only did I look like one, but was starting to think and talk like one. I found myself looking forward to Paul picking me up for the Ballet. I couldn’t get my mind off the thought of me hanging on Paul’s arm, like an ornament, wearing that dress.

Finally the night came. We waited patiently for Sherries mystery date to arrive. I was dressed to the nines. So was Sherrie. She looked totally hot. I wanted to make love to her in her gown. She pushed me away playfully.

"What would the guys think if they saw us making out?" she kidded.

"Yeah. You are right. It would probably turn them on. They would want to record it."

A knock sounded from the door. I opened it and I felt a pit in my stomach. It was Terry’s father from down the hall. He was wearing a tux and holding a bouquet of flowers.

"Hi!" he said, looking me straight in the eye, "Well don’t you look pretty. I’m here to pick Sherrie up."

He spotted her behind me and stepped past, gently bumping into me. Sherrie’s eyes lit up when she saw him. The embraced and he kissed her hard, right in front of me. Of course he hadn’t recognized me as Scott. Sherrie kissed him back just as intensely, even though she knew I was watching. He handed her the flowers when they finished. Sherrie introduced me to Mike like a prize heifer.

"Mike, I want you to meet Lisa."

"Hi, Mike." I feigned, "I’m pleased to meet you."

I extended my hand for him to take as girls do. He looked at me as if he was truly amused. Sherrie jabbed him.

"Oh!" he said, taking my hand, "I’m sorry. I didn’t expect… It’s just… You are more beautiful than I ever expected."

"Thank you," I blushed, and thought that if he only knew the truth.

Paul arrived a short time later. He too was wearing a tux and bearing flowers, for me. Mike and Sherrie’s scene repeated itself, except I was the one being bent over backwards and kissed. A French kiss at that. It turned my stomach, but I went along. His warm hands felt good on my bare back. He was strong. Then I broke it off, astonished at myself for thinking his warm touch felt good. Paul took a flower from the bouquet and pinned it to the halter strap of my dress, just above my left breast. His fingers had slid behind the material to make sure he wouldn’t prick me. He let his hand slide farther down the inside the halter top of my dress and lightly across my nipple as he removed it. It sent a shiver through my body and raised goose bumps on my arms. I blushed. His body blocked Sherrie and Mike’s view of his little indiscretion. I should have been angry, but wasn’t.

The theatre’s lobby was large and beautiful. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling and marble staircases ran along the outer walls to a balcony above. The lobby was crowded with people socializing. Many of them held cocktails. Although I loved my dress, I was a little self conscious when Paul helped me remove my overcoat. It did reveal a lot of bare skin. While women seemed accustomed to displaying their bare bodies in public, I was a man, and felt fairly naked. I noticed many of the ladies were as scantily clad as I and the feeling slowly subsided. Expectations of women were certainly different than I was used to. Paul and Mike had excused themselves, promising to return with drinks for us. Sherrie wanted to use the ladies room. I had to go myself, so we went to find it together. It was downstairs, below the lobby.

"You look quite elegant my dear." Sherrie complimented, as we slowly maneuvered down the stair case, "In fact, prettier than most of these other women. If they knew one of the prettiest ladies here was a man, they would die." She giggled.

I was not amused. My outfit, while very pretty, left me feeling very vulnerable. I would be in no position to defend myself dressed as I was in the slinky, long gown and high heeled sandals.

"How does it feel to be an ornament? Like an object on display. You do realize that is what you are, don’t you? A trophy. Most of these women are trophies too. Their dates could care less about them, only their looks. Which man has the best looking trophy? I dare say that Paul, with you, rates close to the top. I myself, never expected you to turn out so pretty. I’m a little jealous actually. You’re a man for God’s sake. Paul likes you, you know. I mean, really likes you. You can see it in his eyes when he looks at you, which he does quite often. I wouldn’t be surprised if you get lucky tonight."

Her thought of Paul and I making love and him taking me like a woman made her giggle. I didn’t think it was amusing. We had reached the bottom of the stair and there was a line of women waiting to use the ladies room. We took our place at the end of the line. Soon there were more women behind us.

"And if he does want to be with you tonight," she continued in a serious tone, "you are to do anything he asks. Is that understood?"

I was only half listening, thinking about how long we would have to wait.

"Is that understood?" she asked again in a menacing tone.

"Yes." I said absently, trying to see if the line was moving.

Sherrie had noticed my impatience. I had to go more than I had realized and couldn’t hold it much longer. Sherrie snickered.

"See what we women have to put up with? Most men couldn’t give a rat’s ass, but it is a little different when you are the one standing in line and almost wetting down your leg. You’ll get used to it. Trust me. You have no choice."

An eternity later we made our way back up stairs. The Ballet was beautiful. Before I realized it the evening was over and we were back at the apartment. Sherrie and Mike made out in the back seat almost all the way home. She knew I couldn’t dare say anything and took advantage of my helplessness. On the way up to our apartment she whispered in my ear.

"Remember what I told you. You do whatever he wants, or you know what will happen."

My temper flared, but there was not a thing I could do. I was her slave. Mike and Sherrie discretely retired to her room and closed the door as soon as we were back inside our apartment, leaving Paul and I alone. Without a word he took me by the hand and led me back to my room.

My heart pounded in my chest. What should I do? I was scared. I couldn’t make love to Paul! I wasn’t a woman! If he started groping me, like I knew he would, he would discover that soon enough. He closed the door. We stood in the dark for a moment, then he enveloped me with his arms, stroking my bare back gently. His right arm pressed firmly against my rear, pressing our loins together. I could feel his hardness pressing against my gown. Then he kissed me. Hard. Passionately. His tongue explored my mouth gently. I closed my eyes and ran my fingers through his hair, lost in the passion. Suddenly I felt the zipper on my dress being slowly pulled down. I didn’t care. I just wanted to swallow him. Then his hands were gently unhooking my halter top from around my neck. The gown slid to the floor. We were still kissing and the passion was growing into a frenzy. He laid me back, onto the bed, and I let him lay between my legs.

Paul’s hands caressed my breasts and softly rubbed my body, raising goose bumps all over me. We kept kissing. I didn’t want him to stop. He was so gentle. Then alarms went off in my head as I felt my underwear being pulled down. I froze, expecting the worst. Then the unexpected happened. He put his arms under my legs behind my knees and lifted my legs over my head. Paul just kept on kissing me without missing a beat. I felt something warm press against my privates, then it slid in side of me. It hurt, but felt good at the same time. Gently, he moved in and out of me. I opened my eyes for a second in the dark room. An odd thought passed through my mind when I saw my stocking clad legs suspended over my head. just kept kissing him. I was on my back with my legs spread over my head, kissing a man while he pumped into me like he would a woman, and I was loving it. He was getting harder by the second. A few moments later he moaned and I felt warm inside. He was coming. I felt happy and sick at the same time. I had just been laid like a girl.

Paul gently lowered my legs, then stroked me until I came. I had never come that hard with Sherrie. Guilt filled me inside. We lay still in the darkness. Paul’s arms were wrapped around me. Tears silently rolled from my eyes. How could Sherrie, my wife, have done this to me? How could she have turned me into a woman without a care. She was in the other room getting laid by our neighbor, while I was getting laid by a stranger. Was this my fate? To live as a woman the rest of my life? To work as a woman the rest of my life? I wanted to make love to a woman, not be a woman. To be so close to women all of the time, in the restroom, in the elevator, in an office, but not allowed to touch, is too much for me. It is pure torment, to stand next to a beautiful woman, loins aching, but knowing I never could never have her because I looked just like her. Just like another beautiful woman. It is like holding a glass of cool water to a man’s lips, dying from thirst, but not letting him drink. How could Sherrie be so cruel? I fell asleep.

The next morning I awoke late, alone. Paul had slipped out during the night. On the way into the bathroom I noticed a uniform hanging on my door. A school girl’s uniform. A pair of black, Loafers and pantyhose rested on the floor beneath the pleated, blue plaid jumper, and white blouse. A sick feeling filled my stomach. The note attached to the hanger said to put it on, before leaving my room. A small note on the bottom also said to put my hair in pigtails and makeup on lightly. My first instinct was to find Sherrie and ask her what was going on. Then I thought better of that plan. I didn’t have a good feeling about wearing such the outfit and wondered what Sherrie was scheming. Wasn’t turning me into a female and forcing me to have sex with a man enough? Where would this craziness end? I quickly put the uniform on, did my makeup, and fixed my hair. The uniform fit perfectly. A school emblem was emblazoned on the left side of the jumper. It read, ‘Merrit Academy for Young Ladies’. I checked my look in the mirror and saw exactly what I thought I would see. A well developed teenage girl in a private school uniform.

I walked into the living room. Butterflies filled my stomach. Mike and Terry, his daughter, were sitting on the sofa. They looked straight at me. Mikes face exploded into a smile. Terry quickly covered her mouth with her hands in an effort to hide her surprise. Sherrie stepped in from the kitchen. I wanted to run, but was frozen in place.

"Well, good morning, Lisa. I trust you slept well?"

Her tone was all business. Terry stared me up and down. I felt like she was raping me.

"Mr. Brown? Oh, my God! Mr. Brown?, "she said in total shock, "You’re… perfect! I knew Sherrie was feminizing you, but I had no idea you looked like this."

"Yes," Mike murmured absently, "Next to Terry, you’re the cutest girl in the building."

Even in my frozen silence I couldn’t help thinking how comical they looked with the funny expressions on their faces. I may have been embarrassed, but it was worth it. Then reality hit me. Mike had known who I was last night, even though he pretended not to recognize me. Terry had known Sherrie was feminizing me? How could she? Unless…

I had been set up far more than I had realized to begin with. Sherrie sauntered over to the sofa and plopped herself down next to Mike. He put his arm around her and pulled her close, smiling at me. The bastards! They were all in this together. It was all a set up. Mike and Sherrie had sent Terry to have sex with me, knowing full well it was illegal. They had planned it all and I fell for it. Hook, line, and sinker. My mind whirled.

"I trust you slept well last night, Lisa" Sherrie smirked, "After all. Paul is quite good in bed. I should know. I’ve made love to him many times. Did he feel as good in you as he did in me?"

They all laughed. I looked down at my self wearing the blue plaid jumper. I was humiliated. I was angry. I exploded.

"You bastards!" I screamed, voice cracking with emotion, "You did this to me! You all did this to me."

Sherrie was amused to no end. Mike threw his head back and roared with laughter. Terry giggled heartily.

"Yes, and what of it?" asked Sherrie, "Mike and I need you out of the way so we can get married. You see, Mike and I fell in love several months ago. What better way to make you disappear than to change you into Mike’s second daughter? You can thank Terry for that. It was her idea. I was going to settle for just changing you into a girl. The beauty of it is… no one will ever recognize you. Even if you stand right in front of them."

"I’ll go to the police!" I screamed.

"If you do we’ll just stick to our story." Mike said smugly, "You raped my seventeen year old daughter. To tell you the truth, Scott, you surprised me the other night. I didn’t even recognize you when you answered the door. You certainly make a pretty girl."

Terry leaned forward and pushed a manila folder across the coffee table towards me. That was when I realized we were wearing the same uniform.

"These are yours, Lisa."

I picked the folder up off the table. There were several authentic looking documents inside, including a birth certificate and a letter of acceptance into the Merrit Private Academy for Young Ladys. It was addressed to a Lisa DuPare. DuPare was Terry’s last name. Lisa was the name Sherrie had given me. It said I had been accepted into the Merrit Academy and would be starting as a Sophomore. I was to report to the girls dormitory first thing Monday morning. My mouth dropped open.

"That’s right, dear. Mike and I figured you would appreciate a little feminine training to help you become the proper, young lady you are. You and Terry will be rooming together as sisters at Merrit, a young ladies college."

"You can’t do this to me! No one will believe I’m a teenage girl. I’m not a teenage girl."

"Have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately, dear?" Sherrie asked, "I don’t think anyone will question it. Do you?. Did I mention that, along with your breasts, the doctor implanted female hormones in you? They are time released so you become more feminine with each passing day. Soon you’ll even think like a girl, and based on remarks you’ve made concerning men lately, I believe that has already started to happen."

She was right. Recently I had been looking at men in a whole new light.

The door bell rang. Mike looked at his watch.

"Right on time" he said, getting up to answer the door.

"Who is it?" I asked.

"Your Chaperones from the Academy, of course." he said, opening the door.

I could see a heavy set, elderly lady standing in the hall. Behind her stood a muscular man. Mike invited her in. She wore a plaid skirt, white blouse, and a jacket with the school’s emblem on it. The man sported a similar jacket.

"Mrs. Noteworthy is here to escort you two young ladies to school. It is in Danbury, Connecticut, quite a distance from here. Don’t worry about packing. You won’t be needing any clothes for the next few years. You will find the Merrit Academy is quite strict about dress code. Call us to let us know you’ve arrived. Okay?"

A pit grew in my stomach. Mike emphasized the word dress. My mind reeled some more. This was all happening to quickly. I needed time to think. Mrs. Noteworthy stepped forward to take charge of us. Terry smiled at me as she dutifully stood up and started towards the door. Her large gentleman friend helped terry into a jacket like Mrs. Noteworthy’s, then stood waiting for me. Mrs. Noteworthy stepped another foot closer.

"It can be difficult, leaving one’s parents, especially when you really don’t want to go. But it is for your own good. You’ll see. In a few years, when you are a proper young lady, you’ll agree."

I didn’t budge. Terry smiled from across the room. Mrs. Noteworthy’s friend stepped forward.

"Don’t make this harder than it already is, dear." Mrs. Noteworthy comforted, sympathetically.

Her meaning was clear, as was her large male friends intentions, if I didn’t cooperate. Reluctantly I crossed the room and slipped my arms into the jacket. Tears filled my eyes. It was obvious the hormones had already started making me more emotional. Terry snickered at my plight. Our Chaperones escorted us out of the apartment and down the hall towards the elevator. Mrs. Noteworthy took the lead with the two of us school girls in tow. The large man guarded our rear.

Sherrie had set me up to become a girl, perfectly. With a few years of girl’s school brainwashing, even I would believe I was a proper, little lady. There was no way out.

 

 

 

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© 2002 by Jean M. Chambers. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.