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.

Comments welcome to bethjac@hotmail.com

 

A Suitable Case for Treatment                  by: Bethany Jacques

 

Part 2

It was my wife. Pauline. ‘He’ was my wife. Looking every inch a man, in fact too many inches, the shoes must have been slightly built up. The chest hair was obviously fake, as was the beard stubble. What was I thinking - fake? Sitting there flashing my nylons and with my ‘tits’ bulging out of my dress.

"Hi - er..."

"Christine" I said quietly.

"Christine. Of course. You look sensational."

I couldn’t think when Pauline had last described me as sensational . I couldn’t remember if it had ever happened. But she looked....

"And you look - very handsome" I added.

Which she did. Nice figure, where were her tits? Squashed in somehow, obviously, not as easy to do as sticking mine on. But indeed as a man, handsome was indeed the word to use to describe the guy I was looking at. I began to recover from the shock, picked up my drink and drank it down. All of it. In one go. ‘Paul’ was doing the same, it seemed so strange watching my wife down a good half of her pint. As if the whole thing wasn’t weird. And that was so much an understatement.

‘Paul’ caught the barman’s eye and ordered me another gin. I remembered my caution, my desire not to overdo the alcohol the other night. But on this occasion another was justified. I realised we had hardly spoken.

"Pauline, what the hell is going on? You look great but what is the meaning of all this?"

Then I realised, of course. How could I have been so thick? This was the other half of the equation, I had spent the week as a woman, wondering how Pauline was getting on. And obviously she had been a ‘man’, probably for the whole time too. Living and perhaps working as a man, to teach her the good points and the problems of being in a man’s world. I remembered, as I had walked with Karen towards Dr. Morgan’s office the previous Sunday, Dr. Elliott and the two men walking out. I hadn’t seen them properly but now I knew. The guy on the left had been Pauline.

She brought me back to reality. Reality!

"Chris, this is awkward. I’m here on a ‘date’. With a woman! This guy from work, he’s fixed me up with his sister. He’s come along to introduce us, then he’s off to leave us to get on with it. This is so weird, Chris, telling you this. I don’t think we’re supposed to meet like this, I mean, I’m due to change back tomorrow lunchtime and then go to Dr. Elliott’s office. I assume you’re going to be doing the same. So what are you doing here then?"

"Look, I’d better call you Paul. That’s right isn’t it? Well I was due to be on a date too, this nice man living near me invited me to dinner. But he got called away, family emergency, so I just came along for a drink. Is that the guy you’re with?"

I had noticed, reflected in the mirror, the ‘brother’ getting up, looking a little concerned, beginning to head our way. Pauline looked across.

"Yes, that’s Martin. His sister is Angela. Look, take my lead, we have to get out of this somehow, we need to talk."

But we didn’t really have a chance of getting away. Martin came over to get the drinks and to find out why, having fixed up ‘Paul’ with his sister, he was at the bar chatting quietly, even secretly, with another woman. He didn’t actually say that but that is what he was after. Pauline started to explain, in a way.

"Martin, this is Christine, an old friend of mine from college. I haven’t seen her for a while, sorry, we just got to talking. I didn’t mean to leave you two. Are you off now?"

"Soon, Paul. Go on, get back to Angela. She’s looking forward to the evening. Go on mate!"

Pauline was keen to do that, I could tell. But I was wary. Martin had perched himself on the stool next to mine and had got his wallet out. Obviously he was going to have another drink, maybe get me one. He wanted to find out about this woman who was chatting to the guy he had set up with his sister. I could go with that but I realised, Paul would be explaining to Angela too. Maybe our ‘stories’ wouldn’t match. It would be better if we stayed together.

It was Angela who settled it, as Paul began to say something to her she looked across and beckoned. To Martin and I, both of us. We went across with our drinks and sat down. Pauline and Angela were side-by-side and now Martin and I were too. We all chatted for a few minutes, then Martin went up to the bar briefly.

Angela smiled towards me.

"Look, Christine, why don’t you join us? Martin seems rather smitten"

Smitten? With me? Well, If Angela could think Paul was a handsome guy, which indeed he seemed to be, maybe Martin did indeed think well of ‘Christine’. I think ‘Paul’ and I had established that we were just old friends, nothing going on now. Which meant that I, Christine, was available. And Martin had indeed been paying me quite some attention. He came back from the bar.

"I’ve just checked, Paul, your table is ready. How about Christine and I join you?"

So I had a date at last! Not quite as I imagined but we were now in some way a foursome. Angela seemed pleased at the idea and to be honest so was I. Pauline however - despite the make-up and so on I could still read her - was not really so happy but did go along with the idea.

As I rose to head off towards the dining room suddenly Angela stopped - looked at Martin - and almost squeaked "Martin, it’s the nineteenth!"

Pauline and I looked at each other, we both knew what that meant for us.

Martin realised something too.

"Your right, Angela, I had forgotten. Totally. Should we ring her now?"

Obviously Angela knew what this meant, she moved to get up. In a very gentlemanly way Pauline stood up and moved to pull Angela’s chair back. Very gallant, I thought. I ought to do that sort of thing for Pauline, more often.

"Sorry you two, we’ve just realised. It’s mother’s birthday and we both forgot. We can sort a present tomorrow but we should maybe give her a call now. You understand."

We did, and were a little relieved to have some time on our own to talk things through, in a very conspiratorial way, across the table while Martin and his sister went out into the foyer to find a phone. We established a lot within five minutes. I told Pauline what I had been up to, including my ‘adventures’ with Steve and Keith and Jason. And now Martin. She had been living in a flat across the ring road and working at a firm on a commercial estate near there, for ‘Jones and Perrins’. A company I had worked for myself although about eight years ago.

"And Mr. Perrins?" I asked her.

"He’s huge, and still very gay in every sense of the word. Tried to get off with me, would you believe?"

I remembered Jack Perrins, always open about his sexuality.

"And did you?"

"No way!" was her simple reply.

I got round to asking why she was on this date.

"Well it’s Martin really. He suggested it, we got very pissed together in the pub on Tuesday, then yesterday morning he suggested I might like to meet his sister. I really fancied the idea. And she is rather gorgeous, isn’t she?"

"And how far did you plan on going?" I asked her.

"Dunno. I thought of just seeing how it went, on my last night as a man. Anyway you were supposed to be here with a guy, weren’t you? So what about Martin? Do you like him?"

"Yes" was all I could say, as Martin and Angela came back to join us.

The rest of the evening went fine, Angela and ‘Paul’ seemed to be getting on very well. And Martin and I did too. They had all arrived in Angela’s car, maybe since Martin had not intended to be staying. It seemed weird at the end of the evening, as Martin and I left the hotel and he slid his hand into mine, to see my wife and Angela walking off arm in arm towards the car park, and more than that, to see her nuzzling Pauline’s neck with obvious affection.

But it was really ‘Paul’ she was attracted to, obviously. When the taxi Martin had ordered arrived we piled in, and he put his arm round me for the short journey down the hill back to my little house.

I really did think of inviting him in but decided against it. I had enough excitement for one evening. I did give him a goodnight kiss though, and this was not just a peck on the cheek. This was lip-to-lips, not very long but really very nice indeed, I was surprised I enjoyed it so much but I had to stop him and say goodnight when I felt his hand begin to slide up my bum.

Inside my house, safe now, I relaxed. But I didn’t want this to end really, I was having so much fun. The chance meeting with Pauline had added to the extreme weirdness of ‘Weird Thursday.

And I didn’t have to wait long for Freaky Friday either! It seemed that I had only just showered, slipped into my nightie and rested my head on the pillow when my alarm sounded. My last day as ‘Christine’.

I breakfasted in my underwear and a negligee, re-did my toenails for some reason despite the fact that I was going to be Christopher again in only a few hours, and then re-inspected ‘my’ wardrobe to decide what to wear on my last day. The sexual tension of the night before must have got to me. I stepped out of the house, just before quarter to, in the shortest miniskirt and the tightest top I had worn all week.

And I am afraid to say, after the attentions of Martin the night before I rather unashamedly flirted with very nearly every male I met that morning. The guy in the corner shop where I paused to buy a paper, the man who came into the shop when I dropped a coin, I knelt down in a very un-ladylike manner to pick it up, and gave him a very wicked grin when it became obvious I had seen him looking up my skirt.

And at work, the man who delivered the parcel from Head Office with next week’s promotional material, even the postman Gerald who I had begun to get to know over the five days. Tanya noticed too, she was beaming at every episode. Eventually my time as Christine came to a close. Lunchtime. The letter I had received that morning, opened just before I left the house, gave me the timetable. Leave the shop at lunchtime, make sure I had my bag and everything in it. Return home and change, then lock up and a taxi would arrive to take me to Dr. Morgan’s office. To be there by three.

Should give me lots of time. The tit- and pussy- removal would take some time, the letter told me where the solvent had been hidden in the house all the time. Tidy up, maybe I should, dress in my ordinary jeans and T-shirt and head up to the meeting with the doctor.

Just before lunchtime the plan seemed to go very slightly wrong. Tanya wanted to have lunch with me. Even suggested maybe we could get something from the take-away and go down by the river, near where I ‘lived’, it was a nice day, she said, we could watch the swans - and the oarsmen.

Then she really surprised me.

"Anyway Christine. I want to show you my parents’ holiday snaps. They went to Turkey. The capital, Istanbul. You know, used to be called Constantinople."

To anyone else that would have been a slightly weird invitation, her parents’ holiday pictures. Unless I suppose we had mentioned the name in a previous conversation. But we hadn’t. And anyway I knew. Presumably Jacqui and Mary didn’t. Dr. Morgan’s codeword. Tanya must be the ‘mole’ in the shop. Funny I had assumed it would be Marie, the senior assistant. The oldest.

I looked at her face. Definitely. Tanya knew. And somehow she had managed to keep it secret from me all week. But the invite was obvious, probably to discuss the affairs of the coming afternoon.

"Sure Tanya, I’d love to see them" I lied. I am still amazed how few lies I told that week, just bending the truth a bit, changing gender in conversations, letting people come to their own conclusions. But this was a definite lie. Almost certainly, anyway, the excuse for a lunch together was a bit feeble but I think Jacqui fell for it. As we were about to leave Tanya whispered to me "Got your bag? Your coat? Everything?"

It was obvious to me. I wouldn’t be coming back.

We walked together out of the shop and down the hill towards ‘my’ little house. I was quiet, in fact silent, contemplating what had happened in the last week and the fact that it was all about to come to an end. Pauline and I were about to come together again, changing back into ourselves, the interview with Dr. Morgan and Dr. Elliott this afternoon, had we done enough? Had I done enough? Would our marriage be mended? Obviously there was going to be more work to do but had my experiences as a woman turned the corner for me? And for Pauline?

Tanya and I were just about to turn into my street and walk along by the river.

"Christine. Christine!"

We heard a voice behind us and turned. It was Mr. Grainger. Keith. He came up and greeted me warmly, reaching out to take my arm.

"Sorry, I just called in the shop again, I spied you walking down the hill.

I was just wondering if you were free for lunch?"

He looked across at Tanya.

"Or maybe next week perhaps?"

This was definitely embarrassing. I took him gently to one side, had to explain, that of course I would be delighted to have lunch next week but in fact I was going away for a while, very sorry, I’d give him a ring if I did return, I was at something of a crossroads in my life, not sure where I would be and so on. He looked disappointed and indeed so was I. He was a nice man and in other circumstances...

Hell what was I thinking? If I was a real woman and met him, then maybe something could happen? Gibberish. Rubbish. I was letting ‘being’ a woman get to me. I had to stop myself, get out of this. I gave his a quick kiss on the cheek, smiled rather weakly, squeezed his hand and then let it go, walking away and toward Tanya, we turned the corner into Riverside.

"Well Christine, what was all that about?" asked Tanya, grinning widely. At which point the guy from the corner shop, walking out to his car, called out "Hi Christine" and, looking at my short skirt and long legs, gave me another beaming and very affectionate grin.

And as if that was not enough, as we began to walk down the street, Jason came jogging up behind us.

"Hi there" he said, stopping to walk beside me and putting an arm round my waist in a rather possessive manner I thought.

"Hi Jason" I said. "How is your daughter?", wanting to steer the conversation away from other matters like our non-existent ‘date’. I wasn’t sure how Tanya would react if she knew about that.

"She’s fine, sorry about last night, it really did seem an emergency. Claire was insistent and I’m glad I went over."

Claire was presumably the ex-wife.

"Good, glad she is OK, sorry, we have to rush" I said, looking across at Tanya who was now looking very puzzled.

We got away as Jason jogged on. I was glad he hadn’t there and then asked me for another date. Yet I was sure he would be knocking at the door of the house sometime this weekend.

"Christine, I am amazed. You are without doubt the very best of Dr. Morgan’s clients I have had to deal with. I’ve never known a man who can wear a D-cup as effectively as you and I am so jealous of your legs, wish mine looked so good in black stockings."

I would have blushed but Tanya continued giggled as we reached my door.

"So how is it, within the space of five minutes, you’ve had three men flirt with you? How do you do it? I’m supposed to be the tart in the shop but honestly I can’t keep up with you!"

Inside we calmed a little. No interruptions. No men. I did us a coffee and a sandwich each and we discussed how I had got on and the proceedings for the afternoon. As I had guessed I had now ‘finished’ at the shop, Tanya would weave a tale about my having to leave, deal with a family problem, in London maybe, very sorry but I wouldn’t be going back, and so on. The taxi would be there at just after two to take me to the doctor’s offices, should give me plenty of time to change.

Change. It really was coming to an end. A very exciting few days, I was finally about to become Christopher again. Tanya left after a goodbye kiss on the cheek. I sat in the kitchen with my last ‘solo’ coffee for a few minutes, then sat to wait. And after all the excitement of the week - I dropped off to sleep! I was jolted awake by the sound of a taxi horn outside. I looked at my watch. Hell! I should be changed by now. I had to hurry, no time to change, I grabbed my bag and a jacket and headed out the door and to the waiting taxi.

I set off on the last stage of my ‘journey’. I’d have to explain why I wasn’t changed - OK, just tell the truth. It would be weird seeing Pauline at the interview. Outside the doctor’s offices I paused for a moment, then walked towards the door. I stopped. There, walking towards me, was ‘Paul’! And very handsome ‘he’ looked too. Why was I thinking that? About my wife? Strange, but then the whole week had been strange. He smiled grimly - "sorry, couldn’t get out of work quickly enough - didn’t have time to change. Sorry. You too?"

I explained, then, there, in the street, we smiled, held each other, and kissed, then hand-in-hand we turned towards the door, to all intents and purposes a happy couple which of course we were. We were both feeling rather smug and self-satisfied, confident that the unusual treatments we had undergone had brought success and that Pauline and Christopher’s problems had to a large extent been sorted.

"Hang on" said Pauline as we approached the door. "This is wrong. We are not supposed to have met, are we? Maybe we should keep quiet about the meeting. And should we go in together?"

I had to think. Didn’t want to spoil things now.

"OK Paul!" I said smiling. "You go in first. I’ll hang about for a few minutes then I’ll come in too."

I wandered down past the little shops near to the office entrance to fill in some time. I ended up in a small pharmacist, looking at their make-up display. I was attracted to a gorgeous cherry-red ‘Kiss-proof’ lipstick, then realised it was part of a special offer. The lipstick with a deep lip-liner and matching nail varnish, all three for the price of two. I bought them! And as I left the shop with all three safely in my handbag I realised. I’d never get the chance to wear them. The ‘woman’ in me had just taken over for a few minutes. I just got back to the foot of the stairs leading up to the doctors’ door when I saw a familiar male figure coming through the door.

"Problem, Christine. We’re stuck, at least until tomorrow. I saw the receptionist, she obviously doesn’t know what is going on, she called me ‘Christopher’! Anyway, both doctors aren’t here. They’ve been in a conference in Edinburgh and they are stuck there, problems at the airport. Not due back ‘til after 8 tonight. So I’ve been told to go back to the house I’ve been living in and wait there and report here at 10 tomorrow morning. At least Christopher has been told that."

I paused to think. So I was a woman for another twelve hours, more. We decided I’d better go in and get my own instructions, play along, we two were still supposed not to have met.

"Hi there" I said as I approached the reception desk. "Pauline King, to see Dr. Elliott, sorry I am a bit late."

"Oh hello Mrs. King. Very sorry but Dr Elliott is not here at the moment." She went into the speech I had just heard, kept on apologizing, ended up asking me to be there the next morning after staying at the flat. I smiled sweetly, looked a little disappointed and left, meeting ‘Paul’ at the bottom of the stairs. He was holding something. My car keys - he must have got then from the receptionist. The car had been sat in the doctor’s car park for nearly a week. Wow, suddenly we were mobile again.

"Right honey, let’s go for a drive".

It was HE who said that. Him. Paul. Said in a definitely male tone, I realised I was to be, effectively, with a man for the remaining time. I smiled and took ‘his’ hand. Paul drove us out of town, along by the river which was looking particularly attractive in the late afternoon sun. We ended up in a little tea room, looking for all the world like any other couple. Paul held my hand and looked seriously at me.

"Christine. About tonight. We could go back to your house for the evning - maybe for the night. That would be fun."

The idea did appeal - enormously - to me. But from Paul’s tone there was something else.

"Or..."

I looked at my partner’s eyes. I knew the thoughts which were going through that mind, similar ideas had occurred to me. There was one thing missing from both our weeks, and this extra evening could give us an opportunity to catch up on that one missed chance.

"Paul, there’s a phone over there. You could ring Martin at work, couldn’t you? And maybe ask how you could get in touch with Angela?. You want to see her again, don’t you?"

"Christine, are you sure about this? You know what it could mean, don’t you?"

I could read every nuance in that face, even behind the traces of make-up used to produce somewhat larger eyebrows and the beard stubble. Paul wanted this as much as I did. I wondered how to reply, which words to use to convince Paul that this would be the very best thing for both of us. I decided not to use words. We were still sitting at the table, our tea finished, I turned towards him and grinned provocatively.

I boldly crossed my legs, allowing my skirt to slide up to reveal my nylonned thigh. I took his hand in mine and placed it just above my knee, then slid it further up and under my skirt. I leaned over towards him, pulled him to me by taking hold of his tie and gave him a really sumptuous kiss.

He pulled away and looked at me, then got up and went over towards the wall-phone in the café. He picked up the receiver and looked over towards me. The young boy, maybe 16, who had served us was collecting our cups from the table. I stood up right in front of him, pushing my breasts out and giving him a good look, then wiggled over towards the ‘Ladies’ at the back of the café. The ultra-emotional display was making me uncomfortable, I really had got my knickers in a twist.

When I came back Paul was standing beside the phone with his car keys in his hand.

"Right, sorted, and yes, you are right, we could both enjoy this. Back to my flat first to pick up my suit, then over to your house. OK?"

On the way over - with Paul driving, after all the man always drives, doesn’t he, Paul filled me in. He was going to collect clothing for his date with Angela and then drive me over to my house. We would change there, he would drive off to collect his date, Martin was going to collect me just after eight. He really had it all sorted.

I was very impressed with his flat, it was typically male which of course surprised me somewhat. Male ‘lifestyle’ magazines by the bed, ok, pretty soft ‘porn’ but not the sort of thing Pauline would read. But of course this was not Pauline. Reasonable order in the wardrobe but Paul had not been as neat and tidy as he could have been. OK the room looked much nicer than my stuff at home, but I was now seeing it through different eyes. Paul collected his blue suit. I said no. That surprised me too as well as him.

"Look Paul, you want to impress Angela, don’t you? Well, she is not going to appreciate you turning up in the same suit you wore last night, is she? How about that grey one, it looks good. And with the maroon shirt, great. And not those shoes, the ones with the buckles, there, that’s going to look good. And you MUST have clean socks. You can shower at my place. Come on, I have a lot to do to get ready."

And at my place the same thing happened! I chose a white sweater and a blue skirt, quite short I thought. But Paul was having none of that.

"Christine, you have to go for it tonight. I want you to drip sex from the moment Martin sees you. Go for it big time - that glitzy silver top, the black leather mini, and those black high heels, they are gorgeous. With stockings of course. And here, let me lend a hand with your make-up. "

And ‘he’ did just that. It took a little longer than I thought but just before eight we were ready. We stood there, side by side, looking at ourselves and at each other in the long wardrobe mirror, both feeling rather self-satisfied.

"Paul, believe me, you are going to score tonight. You look really nice, Angela is going to be so happy to be out with you."

"I hope so, anyway Christine, I have to go. Be careful out there - and have fun!"

Paul kissed me on the cheek, squeezed my bum and shot off down the stairs and out. I heard his car start, noticing with a strange rather disconnected part of my mind that the exhaust would need seeing to soon. I looked in the mirror and felt great. Every guy’s dream, I hoped. Big bouncy tits, tight short skirt, legs, I was so proud of my legs. And incredibly high heels which really did do something amazing for my ankles and legs. I really could have wanked there and then.

But the doorbell shook me out or my reverie. Martin was here. I reached out towards the door handle to let him in, and realised I was shaking. Literally. I could see my hand, deep luscious red nails and all, shuddering. I was going to do this. Let him in, have a good time, have a ‘date’ - with Martin. I managed to calm down, opened the door, and smiled.

"Hi Martin, do come in, I’m nearly ready."

He stood there. Looking. I was thrilled, he was looking at me, looking with admiration, with desire, with positive lust. He spoke as he came in.

"Christine, wow, you look absolutely great. Really, I thought you looked pretty good last night but now, gee, you look absolutely stunning."

Suddenly, very suddenly, I stopped shaking, stopped worrying. For this evening I WAS Christine, a woman and more than that a sensuous woman, a woman who men might desire. OK, maybe it wasn’t in the script, maybe I was supposed to just go out and sit with my man and have a good time. But tonight I wanted more than that, I wanted to be seen to be stared at, to be admired, indeed to be wanted. By every man we met.

I walked back across the room for my bag, slung it across my shoulder and turned to leave with - my boy-friend. But I couldn’t wait. As I reached him I took his out-stretched hand in mine, leaned across and kissed him. On the lips! My first proper kiss with a man, it sent a shiver down my spine, but I wanted more than that during the evening.

We got to Martin’s car, happily without hearing any mobile phones ringing, better luck this time, my mind went back 24 hours. I got in and delighted at the feel of my leather skirt and nylon stockings sliding over the upholstery. I put my hand on Martin’s knee as he sat beside me and squeezed affectionately.

"OK, lover, what have we in store tonight?"

Had I just said that? I was flirting with him, but I wasn’t ashamed, I was thrilled, luxuriating in my femininity, loving the effect I could have on men. This was new, OK I had enjoyed flouncing around with a couple of men that week but not like this. I looked across, Martin was grinning. He had pulled and he knew it!

"How about going along by the river, we could try that new hotel near the old bridge? Supposed to be good?"

"Hotel?" I asked, looking sideways at him.

"No, I mean, for a drink, just that". He was embarrassed - why I don’t really know, maybe a hotel would be a good idea for a romantic tryst. Tryst? What was I thinking of? I didn’t want romance, not that night anyway, I just wanted sex and I was determined to get it. Maybe a drink or two would be a good idea first. Of course it would, just one or two, I didn’t want to get drunk, I wanted to be in control, to enjoy the experience, to remember it afterwards.

"That sounds nice" I replied, as sweetly as I could. Martin drove us there and, as he pulled into a parking space in the car park there, I looked round. I had heard about this place but never been here. A bit too expensive for Pauline and I, rather exclusive. As Martin held out his hand to help me to get out of his car I got another thrill - he definitely saw my stocking tops as I swung my legs out, and couldn’t hide his delight. I gripped his hand tightly and we went in.

Exclusive? It certainly was. For a moment I thought the doorman was going to object to Martin’s rather smart Simpson’s tie - I was sure he would have said something if he hadn’t been wearing one. And we really did stand out when we went into the bar. I wasn’t the only ‘woman’ not wearing a dress but not far off. This seemed to be very much the well-heeled set of the county, dressed up for a night out.

The actual ‘date’ went well - very well indeed, for a while. Martin was charm itself, complimenting me on my dress, my smile, even saying at one stage that I was a delightful companion, not quite in those words but obviously giving the impression he was happy to be out with me and, I suspect, to be seen with me. I remembered, from many years ago when Pauline and I first went out, being thrilled she took so much care with her dress and appearance the first time I had taken her into the local pub.

We had just about finished our drinks, I was wondering what was going to come next since Martin was driving that evening, when I spied disaster looming. I saw Marion first, Marion Hughes. Wife of John Hughes. My boss! And he was there too, with another couple, they came into the bar and sat at a table near the door. Obviously there for a meal, I think it was his son and her wife they were with.

I had to think quickly. Monday morning, three days hence, I was due to see him again, in very different circumstances at work. Probably with him kindly asking if my ‘medical’ problems were over. I was pretty sure he wouldn’t recognise me. I looked nothing like Christopher, taller, slimmer, longer hair, much longer. And dressed like that, well. But I decided not to take the risk.

"Martin, can we go, it’s still a nice evening, how about a walk by the river. And then maybe you can come back to my place?"

I said all that with a straight face but Martin took the hint. Firstly I wanted to be alone with him, and secondly - there was definitely a suggestion of something extra later. He got up and slipped a hand round my waist, and we walked out together. I had to try hard not to look at John as we walked past, and was glad to get out of there undiscovered. Martin drove us back to Riverside and we parked outside my house, then set off to walk down to the river bank and along the path there for a while.

Eventually it began to cool down as the sun went down. I knew it was now or never, we had got back to near my little house. Martin had his arm round my shoulders by now, both to keep me warm and to show his affection. I slid from his grasp. I turned to face him. Looked him straight in the eyes, reached my hands round his neck. I didn’t resist when Martin leaned towards me and gave me a soft gentle kiss on the lips, before long I had my arms tight around his neck and we into some really heavy petting.

The feeling of his arms wrapped about me just felt right, it just felt so good. My tongue pressed hard between his lips, I parted mine and thrilled as his tongue entered and wrapped around mine and I melted, I was his. I realized what I was doing, kissing a man, but the feeling of his strong mouth pressing against my soft red-painted lips was so enticing and I just didn’t want it to end. We groped and fondled each other for several minutes, then I decided I needed to pause, to weigh things up. I pulled away.

"Martin, would you like another drink? I know I would. Let’s go inside."

Before he could answer I skipped over the road and unlocked my front door, then disappeared into the kitchen and came back with a gin-and-tonic for me, and a beer for him. He had come after me and closed the door. We sat side-by-side on the sofa, I felt a real woman when he slid an arm round my shoulders and kissed me again. I decided - this was going to be it!

Before I could make a move he was ahead of me, I felt Martin’s hand move up under my skirt, his fingers sliding over my arse to feel my panties. I shivered a little, I was too stunned to move, unable for a moment to accept what appeared to be happening. I became aware that I was enjoying this!. I couldn’t be! No, I’d never do that, surely. Never! Oh yes I would!

Martin smiled at me and I couldn’t help myself, I began to unzip his trousers. I reached in and felt around a little, still looking him in the eyes. I wrapped my fingers round his firm cock and exposed it. I looked. His organ was already fully erect when I removed it from his pants. I had done that!! Me!! It was beautiful. Strong and long and firm and thick, it looked so inviting, I teased it for a moment with my long red nails. Martin jumped a little, I heard the sharp intake of breath. I looked up, he was smiling. I kissed him again, passionately, as he moved further on top of me. Now, yes, but not here. I pushed him away, for a moment he looked crestfallen, then I smiled.

"I need to go to the bathroom - first!"

He beamed and moved off me, adjusting his trousers somewhat. I stood up and tripped up the stairs. It only took a few seconds for me to pull my skirt up and my knickers down, and to smear some of the gel I had bought over my ‘pussy’ and into me a little way. I washed my hands, re-dressed, and opened the bathroom door. Martin was standing there, looking so gorgeous, so appealing, I just had to have him. I grabbed his hand and dragged him into my bedroom, then pulled him on top of me on the bed and began to eat him, to smear my lips recklessly over his, to caress his tongue with mine, to grasp at his tight buttocks, to dig my nails in. Within seconds he had my skirt and panties right off, and his trousers and shoes and socks too. I caressed his cock, then he took charge.

When I felt the head of his erection slipping smoothly into my arse and sliding deeply up me the truth really came to me. I knew there was nothing I could do to stop him even if I wanted to. I was helpless, I didn’t care, and I was going to have sex with him.

"Yes!!" I screamed. "Go on, darling, go on, I want you!!" And I really did.

Martin penetrated my ‘virgin pussy’, sliding forcefully inside me, using my arse in a way it had never been used before and had never really been meant to be used. I was totally thrilled the ‘deceit’ worked - I had been worried but had satisfied myself, by careful inspection as I had put on my sexy panties that evening, that the geometry would work. At least, well enough for a one-night stand anyway. The pain in my arse was intense, but the agony was bearable. And then he was all the way in, right up me, and his thick erection was touching inside me in places I never knew I had. I could feel his hairy balls against my bare arse, his muscular thighs pressed against my soft, smooth skin. I was moaning in the sheer delight of the experience, my first fucking by a man.

He began to slide back out, then in, then out, then in, the reality of my situation became indisputable. He was fucking me and he was enjoying it. I was being fucked like a girl! I had a male organ plunging deep inside me again and again in search of sexual satisfaction, and it was not just a dream, it was real! Gradually, as he pumped his erection in and out of me with a steady rhythm, the pain I’d been feeling subsided, and a much stronger sensation grew in me. It was a strange kind of tingling, a pleasant feeling unlike anything I’d ever felt before, and as it grew more intense I begin to revel in the unexpected enjoyment. How could it feel so good?

I heard myself moaning softly as he continued to pump his cock up me, and I had to admit that the sensations I was experiencing were truly and uniquely pleasurable. I never would have guessed that being fucked by a man would feel like that, but I couldn’t deny it. After a while, it felt so good!

"Fuck me, Martin," I encouraged him. "Fuck me hard. I love to feel your cock inside me."

He needed no further bidding and leaned forward, pushing his cock even deeper into my hole. I reached down to dig my long nails in and grasp his bum as I pushed out with my hole to guide him deeper in me.

God, that felt big! He waited a moment as he felt me clench down hard just behind the head of his cock, before I could relax my ‘cunt’. As he felt me relaxing, he pushed forward again and I was amazed by the ease with which kept sliding deeper inside me. Martin pulled back a little and I felt some of his length slip out of me. Even as I was starting to feel relief from the fullness, he pumped his hips and thrust back in again, adding another inch or so. A couple more strokes and his 7 or so inches were buried deep inside me, and I could feel his balls pressing up against me.

He leant forward with his whole body, ensuring that there was no more of him left to feed me, then rested as we both enjoyed the feelings. I could feel the heat of him burning deep into me, feel the blood pulsing in his throbbing cock through my tightly-stretched hole, feel the most completely full feeling I had ever experienced.

"Is that good?" he asked.

"Fucking marvelous!" I laughed in reply. "You?"

"God, you’re tight," he laughed.

"Well, you’ll just have to loosen me up then, won’t you?" I answered.

"Okay, then. One good hard fucking coming up."

With that, he withdrew almost all the way, just leaving his head buried in me, before pushing his length back in to the hilt, repeating the action, pumping his hard cock into me nice and slowly - long, deep stroke after long, deep stroke - filling me full of himself with every thrust.

I was moaning now with every stroke, encouraging him, begging him to fuck me harder. His tempo increased, forcing himself deep into my slick hole with each thrust. Then he pulled himself further up my body, bending me double as he rested his hands on my shoulders, bearing down with all his weight, forcing me down as he pumped my virgin cunt. I reached around behind him to clasp his buttocks again and draw him in deeper still.

Both of us were reaching a point of no return, fast. His pounding increasing in speed and vigour and suddenly, the stretching, the pumping, the pressure deep inside me was too much and I shuddered over the edge. He climaxed, I could feel my stretched arse clenching his cock in sympathy, the spasms translated into a tight gripping motion on the prick pounding in and out of my hole.

Suddenly, Martin was crying out. I felt his erection shudder and begin spewing its contents into my rectum. Then he went rigid, seemingly trying to bury his entire body inside me as with one huge, final thrust he started to come. I could feel the heat of his cum filling my arse as he twitched and jerked, spasming deep in my hole, his hips bumping against my body again as he pumped me full.

It seemed to take ages for it to finish, then Martin was collapsing on me, both of us panting, laughing, gasping for breath, two sweaty, bodies locked together by the tight muscles of my hole. Finally, he lifted himself off me and I felt that indescribable feeling as his still-firm cock slid from my wet hole.

"God, that was good," I gasped, as he tried to get his breath back. "When you say a good fucking, you mean it!"

As his shrinking cock withdrew, I experienced a wonderful feeling of fulfillment, and I sighed both with relief and longing. Relief that it was over - I had done it. Experienced it. Been fucked. Completed my ‘education’ as a woman. OK, there was no guarantee I had come anywhere near a female orgasm, in fact I hadn’t reached orgasm at all. But I had reached something, a sense of satisfaction, of fulfillment. And I had loved it! We gently kissed once more.

Martin dragged himself off me and padded to the bathroom. I considered my options. Kick him out, send him home, satisfied. No. I got up myself and, after switching off the bedroom light, lit only by the small bulb in the hall, squeezed past him as he came back to the bedroom. I cleaned myself up a bit and, back in the bedroom, slipped on a shorty night-dress and got into bed with Martin. I think he slept well - I know I did!

I was very glad indeed that I woke first. Martin was indeed a heavy sleeper - I woke to find him cuddling me from behind, his sweaty body smelt just gorgeous. While he was asleep I toyed with his penis, and was delighted that my ministrations led to an erection. But then common sense took over. I slipped out of bed and headed for the bathroom - I needed about twenty minutes in there undisturbed.

I emerged after about eighteen, fresh, washed, my face smoothed, my body talced and sweet-smelling, slipped on my negligee and leaned over my lover. I pulled back the bedclothes and slapped his gorgeous bum.

"Come on sleepy, you’d better go, Angela will be wondering where you are."

He woke. Quickly. He had to, I was pummeling his body in fun. He grabbed me and we kissed.

"Martin, get yourself into the bathroom, you need a shower. AND you need to brush your teeth. Then I’ll kiss you properly." And as he himself trotted off to the bathroom, he patted my bum playfully.

I was so thrilled. Twelve hours as a woman, more than that, as a sex object. I loved it! But I knew it was all about to end. In some ways I regretted it, in others I would be glad to release my own organ rather, it had started to become cramped in its hiding place, on the other hand it had probably had more excitement than it was supposed to while so confined.

Martin and I had a brief breakfast, then it was time to say goodbye. We both said nothing about another date, though I have the impression he really wanted to but respected my comments from the previous night, that I was not after any sort of long-term relationship for the moment, just really seeking some fun. But on the doorstep, as he was going to go to his car, I enjoyed one last long lingering kiss. A great moment.

And as he drove away I noticed - another car paused up the road drove up. My car! It was Pauline, or rather Paul. ‘He’ smiled as he came up towards me - I could tell. ‘He’ had scored as well last night.

"Well, darling, how was your little Angela?" I asked.

She pushed past me into the house, then turned.

"Bloody fantastic!" she replied positively. "She was incredible, for a first fuck it was stupendous. Now."

We stopped and looked at each other. She came closer, reached up to stroke my face, I stroked hers and felt the ‘stubble’ make-up.

"Very nice" I muttered "Very handsome".

And then we kissed. It started out gentle, tender, and moved on very rapidly indeed. Within seconds we were necking, hard, I could feel her hand on my leg, sliding my skirt up, this time I didn’t object. I was suddenly horny as hell again, I hadn’t had sex with her for a week. Maybe it was time to change that. I was wondering just how I was going to manage the arrangement between my legs, then I felt between hers and gasped. There was something there, a cock, and it was big! My dress had ridden up and three quarters of my thigh was showing. It wasn’t long before ‘Paul’ put her hand on my thigh.

"You’re gorgeous, Christine. I want you. Now!" ‘he’ told me. And this was to all intents and purposes a man, Pauline had ‘been’ a man in every respect - nearly - for four days now, I knew I wanted to please ‘him’. She put her arm around me and pulled me toward her. Before I knew it, she was kissing me. Kissing my red lips. At first, I pulled back, but then I remembered own my role and tried to imagine again that I really was a woman being kissed by a man. I relaxed and soon her tongue was probing my mouth. I thought again of how I would feel as a woman and I began to respond to ‘Paul’s advances.

Her hand was on my thigh, creeping upward, it slid up towards my ‘breasts’, squeezing my nipple through the blouse and bra. I liked that. Before I knew it, my own hand encountered something inside her pants. Well, I had a ‘pussy’, maybe I would see how she was equipped down there too. I imagined that I was a woman making him hard, which of course in a way I was.

Suddenly her hand was inside my dress, inside the bra-top, feeling my breast, teasing my nipple. My hand pulled down her zip, reaching inside and bringing out - her big cock! We were still kissing.

"Christine, my darling, I want to see those soft red lips wrapped around my cock" I heard her whisper.

"No, please"

I weakly protested in a mocking voice. Then I felt her pressing my head toward her crotch. I stopped resisting, I kissed the tip of her cock and then opened my red lips, sliding down on it. It was so real, flesh-toned pink, bulging at the top. I wanted it!

Pauline pushed my head down further. I undid her belt and slid her pants down as she lifted off the floor slightly. I unbuttoned her shirt as she kicked off her pants. Soon, she was laying naked on the floor and I knelt, going down on her. Her hands pushed my head down again until I felt the head of her cock sticking deep in my throat. I sucked on it and slid my mouth up and down along her shaft. I licked the little hole at the end of her dick. I licked her balls and softly sucked on them. I was in heaven.

I climbed up on her and felt her hands slide up my stockings until they encountered my own ‘clit’ area. It was only a brief touch but it was enough. It was thrilling! She gently played with my clitoris, treating me like the woman I felt I was maybe becoming.

"Get under me" Paul directed.

Her cock was really hard, she pulled my panties off and spread my legs, lifting them over her shoulders. My ‘pussy’ was wide open for her and I felt her cock slowly and gently enter inside me and slide in oh-so deep. I gasped in delight as she began to pump it in and out of me. I squeezed her ‘cock’ with my muscles and felt her swell inside me. It wasn’t long before I could tell she was approaching some sort of climax. She pumped harder as she approached her limit. As she thrust inward, she pressed her balls’ hard against me. A few heavy, deep thrusts and I felt her tense and reach a wild orgasm. Something happened to me too, I had my own first ‘femme’ climax. Slowly she withdrew. We were both - in our different ways - satisfied.

I pulled myself up on my elbow, realising I was exposing my deep cleavage to her view, and that it was really enough to make any man lustful. I looked in her eyes. Even this one. Even my wife! I looked down at the ‘cock’ - now amazingly shrinking.

"No, I don’t know how it works. It’s a sort of dildo, reacts to pressure inside me. And that was great. Tell me Christine, how was that for you?"

I had to laugh, simply said it was ‘very different’.

"Me too. Amazing. Even better than Angela, maybe. You know, Christine, I get the impression if we practiced this it could be totally mind-blowing! Pity we have only got the one chance."

"Paul" Why did I use the ‘male’ name this time? Don’t know. "You’d better be off now, you have to get back and change, remember we’re not supposed to have met, are we?"

But first - we just sat and talked a little, opening up about our experiences. We sat for just a few minutes in the kitchen with coffee discussing what we had liked and not liked about the week.

Strangely for both of us it was ‘fringe sexual’ things we had loved, maybe even more than the night before. Pauline’s highlight of the week at work was when she overheard two of the girls in the office discussing ‘Paul’s bum’, and what they would like to do with him if he did ask for a date. I had to think a bit for my work highlight, there had really been so many of them. In the end I told Pauline about Mr. Grainger, Keith, and the look in his eyes as we had sat outside the café having lunch when I crossed my legs and gave him a jolly good show of my nylon-clad thighs. I got goose-bumps just thinking about it.

And we talked about the night before, about Martin, and Angela, and what we had done, and just how much we had enjoyed ourselves. But then - it really was time. We knew we needed to hurry. Paul kissed me one last time, and was off.

Me? I changed. Totally and quickly, not thinking about it. The solvent on my falsies, a good shower, my own clothes from the suitcase which had been in the bottom of the wardrobe all week. Then instead of calling a taxi I set off to walk, along Riverside, past the corner shop. Up the hill past ‘my’ charity shop, I didn’t dare look in but no-one would have recognised me. Got to the doctors’ place just before ten and, again, saw a familiar figure walking towards me. Pauline. My wife! First time I had seen ‘her’ in nearly a week, she looked gorgeous. We held hands, as man and wife, the right way round, and walked in.

"I’m very sorry, Mr. And Mrs. King, the doctors are still not back yet. Dr Morgan rang from the airport about half an hour ago, they really should be here very soon. Please take a seat."

And no sooner had we done so than the two doctors burst in, looking somewhat disheveled, obviously having hurried. Dr Elliott looked over at us.

"Very sorry. Very sorry indeed, you two shouldn’t have met yet really. But we can’t undo what is done, please go into the office, Mrs. King, we’ll be with you in a few minutes."

I went into Dr. Morgan’s office, sat and read a magazine for a few minutes until Dr. Morgan came in looking slightly less ruffled. He sat down and relaxed.

"Now Mr. King. Tell me. How did your week go? Was it a worthwhile experience?"

The interview went on for about half an hour until Dr Elliott and Pauline joined us, we all discussed what we had learnt about each other and about ourselves.

"OK Mr. King, I think that will do for now. Go home and see how you get on in picking up the pieces of your lives, and your marriage. Good luck, can we see you both here next Friday afternoon for a de-brief as to how it has gone? "

We all shook hands and Pauline and I left. I drove this time but, instead of going straight home I did a detour via that hotel where Martin and I had gone the previous evening. I had a pint, Pauline had a vodka and we went for a walk in the garden, where we found an isolated corner and had long luscious pulsating ‘straight’ sex. After which we both felt sensational!

And that really set the tone for the week. Not that we were rutting absolutely all week, probably about 12 times in the six days. OK then maybe fifteen. And in-between - well, it was like being newlyweds again in so many ways. Both of us being ever so considerate, taking care not to upset the others. I bought Pauline flowers twice, she got me a new tie, I love new ties. And lots of other little things, each seeming insignificant on its own but the whole picture added up. We had done it. Back on the rails again.

And so it was, on the succeeding Friday afternoon, we arrived at the doctors’ offices once more, maybe for the last time. Feeling good about ourselves and our relationship. Both doctors were delighted at our progress, took us away separately to do some questioning and tests on how we were feeling, about ourselves and each other. We were thrilled, they seemed so too, especially when, at the end of the session, I took out my cheque book and wrote out a cheque for the remaining £9 000 for them. The money had taken some finding, at such short notice, we had to raid my ‘new car’ account, and go into our other savings but it had been worth it. We even overdid it, Pauline said we should free up a little extra cash to treat ourselves. At the time I didn’t think about what we could spend it on but it seemed a good idea.

Then right at the end of the session Pauline surprised me. We were all just shaking hands when she asked the question - I was surprised, she hadn’t asked me first. But I really could forgive her almost anything right then.

"Dr. Morgan, Dr. Elliott. As a thank you, please, Chris and I would be delighted if you could both come and have dinner with us tomorrow night. Please, an extra thank-you from both of us. Say you will come. "

The two doctors were obviously surprised. I could tell that from the way they looked at each other. But then Dr. Elliott smiled.

"I don’t know about you Edward but I think that is a charming idea. I don’t have any other engagements and my husband is away for another week. I’d love to come, Mrs. King, thank you so much. How about it Edward? Maybe you could check with Margaret?"

Dr Morgan did just that, rang his wife, had a brief conversation we couldn’t hear and then turned to us, smiling. Obviously it was another ‘yes’. We left the two of them to sort out who was going to give a lift to whom, and headed back home. I was on a high and keen for sex, it may only have been early evening but I wanted it. But Pauline wasn’t having that at all. When we got home she put the kettle on and then, leaving me to sort the evening meal, announced she was heading back into town.

"I want to get something a bit special for tomorrow night, the best idea is to get it now. See you."

And with a quick peck on the cheek she was off. I did as I had been told, sure we would get it together when she returned. But no, I cleaned the best silver while Pauline was out so that she could put on a show. Then, after she had got in the shopping and put some things away upstairs, we spent the whole evening preparing food, vegetables, a nice dessert. And by half-past twelve we were both quite tired and ready for sleep.

Even in the morning, rested, there was no sex! I was beginning to get frustrated having got used to the frequent gropings and orgasms of the past week. But no, Pauline insisted on continuing the preparations, by two o’clock virtually everything was ready.

"OK darling, I’ll get the best candlesticks, they’re in the spare room aren’t they?"

"No!" shouted Pauline. "Not now. Don’t go in there!"

I was puzzled. Why not? Then I realised, she had taken something in there the previous evening, I’d not seen what, I’d been finishing off in the dining room. Maybe - I knew, suddenly - she had been after me to get a new dress shirt for a while, in out more sensible moments. She’d got it for me as a surprise! I was so sure - but so wrong. At half past two she led me by the hand into the spare room.

There - on the bed - well! Well !!!!

Laid out on the bed was a suit. A grey suit, a very nice grey suit. And a shirt and a new tie, and shoes - what was going on. Then I saw. On the other side of the bed - the wig. The bustier, panties, stockings, shoes. And a dress-hanger on the wardrobe. No. Surely not!! I looked at her. She grinned.

"OK Christine. You’re on again. I thought we might like to show the two doctors what a good job they did on us. Get really dressed up, man and wife of course but - well, you know, it could be fun."

Fun? FUN? Well, yes. It could be. Enormous fun. To use an expression I met in school a long time ago - I was gob-smacked! But Pauline was obviously serious, she had gone to a lot of trouble. So that was why the ‘shopping’ had taken so long the previous evening, she was preparing this.

"I went to ‘Changes’, you know, where you went last week, I met Karen, she is very nice. She knows the doctors, of course, told her what I had in mind. She thought it was a hoot, gave me lots of help in choosing your things and so on. And I went to the place I went to then too, to get the special shoes and the chest-wig thing. So, come on, showers first and then we dress. OK?"

Of course it was OK, I was becoming very excited at the thought of getting ‘dressed’ again. I hadn’t realised how much I had missed it, over the next few hours my excitement grew as we transformed each other into ‘Paul’ and ‘Christine’ again. The shower, the smoothing of my skin, putting on the basque (EVER so tight, even more than previously) and stockings. The matching red panties. And then the make-up. Pauline started out carefully but then, I thought at the time, went rather over-the-top. My long red nails, nearly two inches long and a bright glossy scarlet should have given me a warning of what was to come, I suppose, but after I had seen my completed face, deep pink eyelids, black mascara and eye-liner and red, very red glossy lips, in a gorgeously cute classic bow shape, I had to agree she had done a good job.

My jewellery was big, bright and gold, choker, rings, bracelet and anklet. My wig was very similar to the one I had worn previously though a little more so, longer, blonder and bouncier curls. In fact the overall effect was stunning. Pauline summed it up for me as I stood in front of the long mirror, posing, inspecting my heaving ‘breasts’, my tight waist, the long nylon-clad legs and the high heels, an obvious invitation to any man in sight.

"Doctor Morgan is going to love you, Christine, he’s going to cream his pants on sight!"

I looked at her in astonishment. Firstly because, somewhat naïve as I was, I hadn’t really thought of the doctor in that way, would he ‘want’ me? Secondly at Pauline’s brashness, at her promotion of my sexuality, my erotic attire. And thirdly - I only just realised it - I actually wanted Doctor Morgan to desire me, to be aroused, to lust after me, after the woman he could see me as.

I hesitated to say this to Pauline and then, as she herself came back from finishing dressing I realised something else. Not that I was much of a judge but - the ‘look’ she was projecting of herself, the tight trousers, the smart suit, the slicked-back hair. It was quite possible Doctor Elliott would herself be attracted - in a sexual way even - to ‘Paul’.

I was about to mention this, to say something about my own feelings and to wonder how the evening might end up, when Pauline produced the master stroke by taking the dress I was to wear out of its’ hanger. It was sensational. Scarlet. P.V.C. Short. Low-cut, in fact VERY low-cut. I drooled at the sight of it, resolving that at some stage in the future I was going to demand Pauline wear it. But for now, it was for me. It took some getting on, but we were both thrilled at the end result as I stood once again in front of the mirror and admired the ‘woman’ in front of me. I did scream ‘SEX’ - obviously, but I was so pleased at the total effect. I was really looking forward to the evening, to being in company, to ‘being’ Christine again. I wondered just what the two doctors would make of us. Just a little doubt began to creep into my mind as to whether this was a good idea or not. But I was jolted out of my reverie as the phone rang.

Maybe it was one of them? Some problem at home, maybe, with a child perhaps? Couldn’t make it after all? Just for a moment I was relieved. But Pauline got to the phone first. It wasn’t a doctor, it was a mother. Her mother.

Well, I thought, that’s Pauline occupied for a good half-hour at least, her mother really could talk. I decided to make myself useful, and spent nearly three-quarters of an hour, while Pauline and her mother talked about anything and everything, sorting the meal in the kitchen getting out the wine, setting the table in the dining room and so on. Pauline found me there eventually, folding the napkins.

"Well, Christine, you’ve been a tidy little wife haven’t you? Come here, I need to reward you."

With which she took me in her arms and kissed me. Or rather ‘he’ did. This was definitely a man kissing me, arms round my waist, hand sliding up my skirt...

"Now, now, Paul darling, don’t spoil my make-up!" I joked, grabbing my bag so that I could inspect my lipstick with my small mirror.

"Christine, you really do look so hot, I could.."

The doorbell rang. This was it, our guests had arrived, at least I hoped it was them and not a friend or neighbour. Paul went to answer the door, I hung back in the dining room, obviously nervous. Very nervous. Very nervous indeed. Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea.

The two doctors came in. Dr. Elliott was grinning widely, her gaze looking back as Dr. Morgan shook ‘Paul’s’ hand. I got the impression they were obviously a little surprised to see my wife once more in ‘male’ mode. Then, coming towards his partner, Dr. Morgan looked past her and saw me standing by the coffee table, probably looking very nervous. He gulped. Dr. Elliott turned - and gasped too.

I summoned up my resolve and moved towards them.

"Dr. Elliott, how nice, I am so glad you were able to come." I took her hand in mine, not really shaking it, and bent forward to give her a quick girly peck on the cheek.

"And Dr. Morgan, delighted, we are so pleased your wife let you out for the night."

And I kissed him, on the cheek in a similar fashion. Then I stepped back. I glimpsed my reflection in the window, as the evening began to become a little darker my reflection became clearer. The week ‘en-femme’ had been fun - but this, being in such company so provocatively dressed, it was such a sensational feeling. ‘Paul’ fussed about a bit, getting his gender role a little confused to start with. I needed to butt in.

"Hang on, honey, I’ll see to the coats, can you offer our guests a drink please?"

He did just that while I hung the coats, admiring Dr. Morgan’s rather smart suit and tie. I imagined he hadn’t chosen that tie, maybe it was his wife who had good taste. I was rather taken aback at Dr. Elliott’s dress, it was not the sort of thing I imagined her wearing. But then I realised maybe they didn’t often have dinner with clients, and certainly not with two like Paul and I! I remarked that her dress looked very nice and I meant it, a real woman-to-woman compliment.

We went back into the living room, Paul and Dr. Morgan were sitting facing each other from the two settees.

"Edward said you would probably like a rum-and coke" Paul said, looking across at Dr. Elliott. I noticed that drink - the colour gave it away - was placed on the little table next to him, and my g-and-t was similarly placed next to ‘Edward’ - I remembered that was Dr. Morgan’s name. I sat next to him, my heart beginning to race, and sipped my drink. It was Edward who raised THAT subject - obvious really.

"Well, you two, I do have to admit I am very surprised at the way you have set up this evening, dressing as you have I mean. But I am also delighted, it must mean the experience was a positive one, in both your cases. So tell us, have you spent a lot of time in the past week like this?"

"Oh no" answered Paul, before I could get a word in. "This is the first time since we finished our treatment. But I thought it would be a nice idea, don’t you agree, Christine?"

"Yes, dear, after all, it was Dr Morgan and Dr Elliott who introduced us to the delights of - well - dressing differently. It seems only right to show them we appreciate their efforts. I must admit, Dr. Morgan, I had a lot of doubts in the first days of that week, but things do seemed to have worked out so well. Hardly an argument at all, we are both so thrilled."

The conversation continued in a similar vein all the way through dinner, which of course I served. And after the meal, re-installed on the sofas, I began to get a little concerned. Paul had already consumed quite a few drinks, beer before the meal, at least two glasses or wine during it, and was now settled next to Elaine - she had insisted on first names since we were in social rather than business mode.

Of course I knew of Pauline’s prodigious capacity to hold her alcohol - she usually drank me under the table at parties and so on. And I had no reason to think that it that respect Paul was different. But I did know just what the effect was, not to fall over or slur the speech - but just to get a bit naughty. I’d enjoyed that on occasion.

But this time - well, this was so different. I watched for signs of odd behaviour but when they did come they were not from Paul - they were from Elaine! As the two of them sat side-by-side it was her hand which moved first - onto Paul’s knee and then, slowly and gripping a little, it began to slide up.

At first I couldn’t take my eyes off her - the look on Elaine’s face was something else. But then I noticed Paul - and a similar facial expression. He was going to go for it! He got up and took Elaine’s hand and led her towards the kitchen.

"Come on Elaine, let me freshen your drink."

A likely story. Then I noticed Edward - Dr. Morgan, that is - was looking at the door they had gone through. His mouth was open. I realised I had an opportunity here too but before I could speak he got up and headed towards the kitchen, turning towards me as soon as he had looked in there.

"Er - Christine - er - I don’t know what to say. Er - they are - kissing -

well, I never expected this, I mean Elaine - and - "

He was clearly very flustered, I realised I was going to have quite a lot of work to do if I was going to seduce him. I reached up for his hand and pulled him down beside me, crossing my legs as I did so to give him a good view of my thighs as my short tight skirt slid up. He noticed - I could tell by the look in his eyes.

"Now then, Edward, don’t be so surprised. I mean, Elaine is an attractive woman, and - Paul - looks very handsome, don’t you think. Maybe it’s only natural they should get together."

"But - Pauline, I mean, two women, together like that..."

"No, Edward, you mustn’t think of them like that. Look, tell me, what do you see when you look at me."

He looked. He looked me up and down, from my long hair, well made-up, though slightly tarty, face, my well-rounded bulging ‘boobs’ almost falling out of my dress, my slim figure, long nylonned legs, my scarlet ultra-high heels. He gulped and was going to speak. I stopped him, I put my hand over his and began to caress it.

"Edward, don’t be ashamed, I would like to think any man would find me attractive, would feel aroused being here with me like this. Are you aroused, Edward?"

And as I spoke, in my very best soft husky voice, I moved my face closer to his, moved my hand onto his leg just as I had seen Elaine do with Paul a few minutes earlier. This was it, the moment of truth.

"Edward, do you want me? Because I want you my darling"

I had him! He couldn’t help himself, he moved his face nearer to mine, I let our lips touch very gently, slid my mouth slightly and teased his lips with my tongue. My hand had encountered the bulge in his trousers, it felt enormous, I couldn’t wait. I opened my lips and began to work on his mouth passionately, feeling him respond as his tongue began to joust with mine. I felt his whole body stiffen as his ardour grew, his desire, his need for the woman now in his arms.

And his arms were gripping me really firmly by now, he was stronger than I had thought. I felt one hand slide up over my waist and cup my right breast, the fingers toying with the ‘bare skin’ exposed by my dress. I pulled away slightly and breathed in his ear "Edward, darling, please, unzip me, please, I need you. Now."

I felt his hand move behind my back and tug my zip down, then his hand slid in and over my bare buttock. I couldn’t resist it, I just had to kiss him again, we were becoming rather voracious in our foreplay. And fore[lay it was, I just knew this was going to lead to sex.

Suddenly we were disturbed. We both heard it - a thud from above. I smiled.

"It sounds as if Elaine and Paul are having a good time, shall we go up to the front bedroom, darling?"

Just for a moment Edward had doubts, I could see the look on his face. But I was not going to be deterred, I was going to have him! I kissed his again and took his hand, pulling him after me out of the lounge and up the stairs. In the bedroom I slid my dress off to reveal my exotic scarlet lingerie, then started to undress Edward. Within seconds I had him down to shorts, then I reached it and took hold of his erect penis.

I was amazed - it was enormous. Fully erect by then obviously but, for a medium-sized man, he was really very impressively hung. I caressed his cock as he slid his shorts off, we continued to kiss very affectionately. I felt Edward’s hand slide down and grasp my bare bottom - he was now definitely in the mood to have sex with me, whatever kind of girl I was.

His hand wandered down over my left buttock, pulling me closer to him. I shivered at his gentle caress and pushed back ever so slightly, enjoying the sensation of Edward’s warm fingers sliding across my flesh. My heart started beating faster and I hoped that he was being excited as much as I was. His hands moved up, round my waist and he pulled me back against him, at the same time sliding his hands up to cup the curves of my breasts. I moaned out loud, surrendering to his caress as his thumbs played with my nipples.

"Christ, my darling, that feels so good. How is it for you?"

His only answer was a quiet moan an he leaned to nuzzle my neck with his warm lips. Once again I was delighted to feel the sensation of a man’s erection pressing against my naked flesh. I maneuvered my ‘pussy’ against his stiff prick and felt its wet, exciting, hardness settle between my legs as though it was the most natural action, between a man and a woman. I was in heaven as he kissed me, more hungrily now, hard and open-mouthed. I murmured aloud with the pure sensuality of it, giving myself up to him, eagerly accepting his thrusting tongue, desperate in my desire to be totally screwed by him.

He broke the kiss leaving me gasping, firm hands on my shoulders pushed me down onto the bed.. I felt his weight on my breasts as they protruded towards him, the tug of my suspenders on my waist. He used his knees to nudge my legs further apart. I felt his fingers sliding up between my legs to rest directly over my pussy. Gently but insistently, a finger teased my hole and, finding it rather moist, slid easily inside. I gasped at the gorgeous feeling of penetration and in an instinctive, female movement, raised my arse up higher to aid its progress. Trembling there, I felt utterly open and vulnerable to this man on top of me.

The finger withdrew and I felt my anus close around the sudden emptiness. Then I felt something both soft, yet strangely hard, run slowly over my open love-hole, before teasing it gently with little probing pushes. He raised himself up above me and his hands came up to hold my hips. I felt the large, sticky, head of his prick pressing directly against my raised entrance. With excited anticipation churning in my stomach, I literally felt like I would faint, there on the bed in front of him.

"Does that feel good, Christine?"

I gasped back weakly: "..oh yes.. ...YES. oh my darling, my lover, my....", before he thrust his hips forward in a single, powerful, movement.

I cried out loud, feeling my anus stretching to accept the thick shaft. Then suddenly, easily, he was inside me. My head went back and my eyes closed with the intensity of the feelings within me, my arms and legs were trembling so much.

The pressure in my arse mounted and I could not help trying to squeeze on the invading shaft. I winced momentarily at a sharp, burning pain, then it was gone and all I could feel was the slow and inexorable progress of his bursting cock working its way into the deepest recesses of my body. Edward’s stiff prick was sliding ever deeper between my open buttocks. I started to wriggle with the effort of taking it all in , he was making me accept each and every inch of him.

"Oh... oh...OH!...ohh please!.., darling, please, take me, take me ... "

Then with a final push - his shaft slid inside completely. His cool, male thighs pressed firmly between my trembling legs, wiry pubic hair nestled up close to my buttocks. I swallowed hard, my thoughts on fire with the knowledge and the feeling that I had taken the entire length of Edward’s massive prick up deep inside my bottom, letting him totally possess me. For a few moments we stayed still like that.

I opened my eyes and looked up at him, still, silent, thoughtful, wondering just what he was feeling at that moment. My only thoughts were that it felt so good and so right to be taken like this, and the longer it went on the better and better it felt. The feeling of being totally filled and stretched by his wonderful prick grew stronger and stronger, matched only by my mounting arousal.

"Well, Edward, now that you are screwing me, I have to express my gratitude. It was you who turned me into a woman, I hope this is some recompense, I do so want to satisfy you."

I threw back my head and began to pant, my excitement fuelled by the sudden realisation that Edward did really and truly want to make me his. Unable to help myself, I once more enjoyed the stimulation of trying to clench my muscles around the rampant, invading shaft. This time there was no discomfort; instead I suddenly became completely aware of the entire wonderful length buried inside me. I moaned in sheer pleasure and literally squirmed on the end of his prick.

This seemed to give him the cue to withdraw slightly from me before returning, exquisitely filling me once more. I found this movement extremely arousing and he repeated it, slowly at first, then with increasing speed. As his slippery rod slid back and forth into my yielding anus, I realised that, gently but firmly, I was now properly being fucked...

My rear was on fire from this new assault. Edward pushed harder and harder into my bottom; each slap of his bulging balls pounding against my quivering thighs forcing an answering gasp of utter pleasure from my open, panting mouth. A hissed groan let me know of his own enjoyment and sent violent surges of warmth blasting through my groin. I was acutely aware of his thick cock thrusting into me, his strong arms around me, the fronts of my stockings sticking sweatily to his own thighs.

Suddenly it was all too much. Arching my back and choking out a cry of absolute ecstasy, I jammed my ‘cunt’ right back against him. Helpless, my muscles locked in a steel reflex round his cock. I briefly felt him shudder before he slammed his cock once more into my rear with a thrust that lifted me from the bed. An arm scooped beneath my waist, pulling me back tight against him. He grunted in pleasure and I squealed my encouragement, actually feeling his prick jerking wildly inside me.

Then, for the second time in my life, I knew the incredible sensation of a man ejaculating into my anus. Warm semen spurted into me, completely flooding my insides. I moaned out loud, totally overwhelmed with the delicious sensation of his cum pumping inside me, deep and strong.

It seemed to go on for ages. I felt totally depraved, wantonly thrusting my cunt back onto him while he finished inside me. It felt so totally right. At that moment I wanted nothing more than to be with this gorgeous man all the time, to be fucked by him but above all, to receive this warm sticky fulfillment of his lust up between the cheeks of my bottom, over and over again, hour after hour, day after day.

And then, finally, he was done. He groaned once more and eased his grip on my waist. The movement caused his prick to withdraw, and I gave a little cry as it bounced stickily along my bottom-crack and away.

Physically and emotionally exhausted, I rested my cheek on the soft bed. I became aware that I was lying in a large damp patch. Now exposed to the air, the entrance to my anus felt distinctly wet and sticky with his sperm. I closed my eyes and marvelled at how I was feeling: now that I had done it again, how satisfying it had felt to be made love to by a man. Already I found myself excitedly wondering if being fucked in a different position would feel different, maybe on my stomach doggy style - a whole world of possibilities was opening up for me to explore my secret lustful fantasies...

I opened my eyes and looked up. His hand reached down, tilting my chin up to look at him. I felt myself blush again, thinking of the intimacy that I had just shared with this man, feeling vulnerable yet terrible aroused at the same time. We kissed ever-so-tenderly. Then, both so sated by the experience that, simply so weary and so satisfied, we both fell heavily asleep. The next thing I remember was lying there, my lover beside me, as the rays of the morning sun blasted into the bedroom.

I slid out of bed and headed for the bathroom - not the first up, someone had been the re earlier I could tell. Rapidly I did what I needed and redid my make-up, creeping back into the bedroom, I slipped on a white top, not so revealing as that red dress had been but still one which showed m deep cleavage to best advantage. And a short skirt and high heels. Still staying as quiet as I could, I bent over to kiss Edward on the cheek and then went downstairs.

It was a bright summer morning, the big window onto the patio was open, and Elaine was out there, sitting in the sunshine with a coffee. I did one for myself and went out to join her, not sure what approach to take to the events of the previous night. She looked up.

"Morning Christine, did you sleep well?"

Christine! So she was in a sense accepting me as the woman I looked to be.

"Yes thanks, I did. Very well."

"And - well, Edward, did you and he ..."

She asked the question, woman to woman, rather shyly, obviously this sort of rather different sexual encounter was new to her. I looked her in the eyes and couldn’t help smiling.

"You mean did we make love? Yes, we did, he is rather an animal in bed, you know, I wouldn’t have imagined it but - you never can tell with men, can you?"

Not that I had a great deal of experience to draw on, but it struck me as the right thing to say.

"And - you and Paul, we heard some noise from the back bedroom. What was it like?"

I’d never have imagined Elaine commenting as she did, obviously there were hidden depths there somewhere. It was her turn to grin very widely indeed as she spoke.

"It was fucking marvellous!"

The ‘boys’ came down soon afterwards, Paul leant to kiss Elaine on the cheek. Edward gave me a peck too but I wasn’t going to let him get away with just that! I stood up and moved closer to him, pressing my body close to his and wrapping my arms round his neck before giving his a passionate and very long kiss on the lips.

"Well, my darling, how was it for you?"

Before the conversation got too embarrassing, and because Edward had to get back to his wife, Elaine and Edward cut the morning-after session a little short, they both had coffee and juice and headed off. I wondered just what Edward was going to say to Mrs. Morgan. Paul and I got changed and then, Pauline and Christopher that is, went out to a pub for lunch and sat in a corner, quietly discussing the events of the previous 24 hours. Things had changed between us, obviously, we had a lot to talk about, to find a way forward for both of us.

And in the next three months an awful lot happened. Our sex life was tremendous, whichever way round we tried things. Whether it was Paul and I necking in a gay club in town or doing ‘69’ on each other in the car or at home afterwards. Or Pauline and me in tight short skirts feeling each other up in a doorway in town, for all the world a pair of rampant lesbians putting on an erotic display.

Or just Pauline and I being very open and very public about our affection for each other, in a lift once, in a pub loo (the gents!) or even in a store cupboard at the office when Pauline, absolutely desperate for it after a night without, appeared at my workplace and whispered in my ear "I’m not wearing any knickers".

Of course ‘Paul’ and ‘Christine’ didn’t miss out, we really were an appallingly promiscuous couple, with very little shame, seeking out married couples or partners out for a good time, and giving them one! But it was after one particular such episode, when Paul screwed a gorgeous blonde called Samantha while her husband fucked me, side by side on the bed in their house, Paul and Gerald sliding in and out in synchronization while Sam and I held hands and enjoyed the experience, then kissed passionately and forced Paul and Gerald to do the same, it was then that we decided that a different arrangement was necessary. We just couldn’t carry on like that.

Not that we argued anymore. Never. The slightest sign of a disagreement was the cue for a fit of the giggles when we realised just what we had gone through in that week to ‘cure’ us. Usually followed by sex in one form or another. No, it was more the fact that, quite simply, it was a very expensive lifestyle. Paul’s suits and designer shirts, my dresses and shoes and breast-form adhesive, all cost. We sat down together one Saturday evening and worked out that our savings were nearly gone, and that it would have to be ‘Pauline’ and ‘Christopher’ from now on.

And then, it happened. On TV, Saturday night. The lottery draw. We won! Not millions but well into six figures, and suddenly our financial troubles were, courtesy of 6 (the greatest number of times we had sex in one night), 7 (the heel height of my favourite shoes), 10 (Paul’s prick), 26 (my waist), 44 (my bust, DD cup) and 45. The last number wasn’t special at the time, but became so, it is the number of our new house.

Yes, we moved house. To a different area, different neighbours, in fact to the Riverside row of houses where I had spent that first special week. I noticed last month that the very house where it all happened has been sold - the two doctors have moved on, they have made their name with their rather revolutionary forms of treatment and have moved up in the medical world so the house wasn’t needed any more. A nice young man has bought it, not really met him yet, only seen him in the mornings.

And us? Well, we really did need to get ourselves sorted, the constant gender-changing was difficult as well as the money. The last is sorted now and so is the first, we don’t change any more. Stability, that’s what we needed.

Anyway I must finish this account of that rather extraordinary period in our lives now. I am expecting someone for dinner, on my own this evening. A neighbour visited for the first time yesterday, a rather gorgeous neighbour. So I have gone all out with the dinner, and the wine of course. I must admit my open flirting was designed to encourage, and it did the trick.

He ended up groping my boobs and I was amazed just how much of his swollen cock I was able to get down my throat. Anyway I sent him packing with instructions to come back tonight, when I knew Paul was going to be out for the evening. I’m wearing that red dress, the one I wore when I had Edward the first time, the very short one which only just manages to control by bulging tits. And with these stockings and my 7" fuck-me-till-your-balls-explode red stilettos I aim to give him a thoroughly good time.

And if I don’t get screwed at least three times by midnight, my name’s not Christine.

Which it is.

 

End

 

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