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

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

 

That red dress started it....!                  by: Bethany Jacques

 

Part 4

I almost stopped breathing. The shock hit me. There, on screen. walking towards what was obviously Helen’s front door - was a woman wearing a red dress, a blonde woman in black stockings and high heels. I gulped. Shit!

I started to speak but Helen was staring at me. Hell, how was I going to get out of this one? The answer was, of course, that I wasn’t. I was caught, red handed or rather red-footed. Red all over in fact, the dress, the lipstick, the nails, the heels. Well, nearly all over. Red stockings would have looked better but I hadn’t got any. Still the black looked OK, hell what was I thinking about that for.

My face must certainly have been red at the time, I was so embarrassed. I looked over at Helen who was still watching the screen. It now showed me, Ben that is, in normal clothes, going out, then the screen went snowy again.

"The camera must have started working again, we thought it was broken" said Helen looking straight at me. "Just for a moment I thought that was me, the dress, you know. Then I noticed the hair style didn’t look right. And the black stockings - or were you wearing tights?"

I just sat there dumbfounded. Getting found out was one thing, but by Helen, and in her dress too. I opened my mouth and a short grunt came out. I closed it, swallowed, and started again.

"Er - Mrs Warner. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to - well, you know. It was just a bit of fun. I’ve never done it before, honest, it was just that one time."

She looked at me calmly. "Ben, I do have to admit I am very surprised. I mean - I never suspected. A cross-dresser. You! Well! And don’t try to tell me that was your first time, you looked so good, you’ve done that before, haven’t you? Come on, be honest."

"Well Mrs Warner. I mean - I have dressed up before, yes, what I meant was - I haven’t you know, in this house I mean. It was just that - that dress, it is so gorgeous, I just couldn’t resist it. But I’ve never done that before.

And obviously - "

I was thinking what to say next, trying not to sound such a fool really when the phone rang. Helen picked it up.

"Oh hello mother.... Yes, back a few hours ago ... yes, hang on a moment."

She pressed the mute button on the handset and looked over at me.

"Ben, can we talk about this later. Please. In about a quarter of an hour.

I’ll come round, OK?"

I weakly nodded a ‘yes’ and left, stumbling somewhat on my way back to my flat. I hadn’t been really able to read how my landlady was taking this, she had seemed calm so far. But I realised I had made a major error. Aside from getting caught. Not that I should have revealed all, I mean you don’t do that, do you. Not to a landlady, not one like Helen anyway. I wasn’t tempted to go for vodka, that was really the drink I had when I was ‘being’ a woman. But I did get a beer from the fridge and felt a bit better after it, well, just a little better. Then, realising that all good things come to an end, I started on my papers, piled round the computer on my desk, packing them into a big box. Obviously I had to go. Helen surprised me when she came into the flat - maybe she should have knocked, but I had left the door ajar I think.

"What are you doing, Ben?"

"Packing. I mean, I think that’s the best thing, if I just go. I really am so sorry."

"Ben, stop apologising. I do realise you shouldn’t have done what you did, not the way you did, but there is more at stake here. I mean, OK, I know you like to dress as a woman. But does it go further? I mean, do you - you know - date men, that sort of thing. I mean - are you gay?"

I had to stop for a moment. The video had obviously shown me, dressed, at the door. That must have been when I switched the camera on, when I reset the system after that guy had left. She obviously hadn’t seen any of that. But it was what she said next which changed my thinking.

"Ben, there’s not a problem if you are. Please believe me. Out here in the sticks we don’t see much of the gay scene, in fact I think I only know one gay man, he works at one of Charlie’s shops. And I don’t know a single lesbian, not that I know anyway."

"Well Mrs Warner. No I am not, I’ve only ever been with women. I mean, I’m interested in a way but I’ve never tried anything. Never really wanted to."

"OK Ben. And call me Helen, ‘Mrs Warner’ sounds so formal. Now, what are we going to do. You certainly have no need to leave. You said interested. Well I am interested - in you with you, Ben? I really want to see what you are like. I didn’t get a good look on the video. Do me a very big favour please. In fact two favours. One, stop packing. And two, I’d like to see you dressed. Would you do that for me?"

My mind immediately said yes. But I knew I couldn’t, shouldn’t, keep things secret. I had to tell it all, whatever the consequences. I decided that Helen had to know everything, my earlier dressing, the few times I had been out dressed, the policewoman I that Ladies’ loo - and the locksmith guy. Everything.

It took me half an hour. I wobbled between talking lucidly about getting dressed, muttering a bit when I talked about my trembles when I got close to people, and nervously going through my attempted rape step-by-step. I finished, I stopped, I just sat there. For a few moments Helen said nothing. Her face was - well, furious, no other word for it. She stood up and walked out, calling out ‘back in a couple of minutes, Ben’ over her shoulder. Amazingly my thoughts were not on what I had said or on her reaction. They were on Helen’s bum. I had seen it walk out of my house - and a glimpse of my own arse, in Helen’s dress, caught on camera in Helen’s hall shot into my mind. Her bum was definitely female and, amazingly I realised, mine was pretty good too! Helen returned after about five minutes. With surprising news.

"OK, Ben let’s get you sorted out. I’ve just rung the security people. Told the boss there that his guy David - nearly raped me. And I said he had to sack him."

Maybe I looked a little surprised. It was not what I had expected to hear.

"Look, don’t worry, he deserved it. I told them I wouldn’t press charges. Anyway the boss said he’d heard something about this guy from another customer, sounds like you weren’t the first. He’s got what he deserves, so what about you?"

I didn’t realise what she was getting at but then I realised what she had said about getting dressed. But had she meant it. I looked straight at her and I knew this time what she was thinking. Yes she did.

"So, Ben, I have to go down to the shops. If you’ve nothing better to do I really would like to meet your female half when I return. About an hour and a half? OK?"

And she was gone. Two minutes later I peered out and saw her car disappear out of the drive. Then I shot into action. A quick look in my wardrobe, OK no gorgeous red dress but that’s not what I was after this time. I was going to be inspected closely, or so I thought, this time, I had to do a good job, a convincing job. I was going to be inspected closely - by a woman.

The basic decisions were made, I didn’t have much of a range of clothes, women’s clothes that is and, thought I know some things like T-shirts and jeans are basically unisex these days I just didn’t fancy wearing anything like that. My own women’s clothes were definitely separate from my men’s. Like I said the decision was almost made for me, the only really suitable outfit I had was the one I had worn to go out shopping, that first time I had been nearly caught out.

The deep maroon business suit had been very cheap indeed, only £6 from a charity shop in Edgbaston. The heels weren’t matching, I wish they had been but I did manage to ‘accessorise’ and make then look not too bad. The suit had a thin black stripe running through it, and black pocket flaps. I was getting good at this by now, even allowing for the fact that I was very nervous, dressing ‘for Helen’, I was ready in almost record time. About an hour and a half that is, to don the fake breasts, my black undies, the stockings and heels, I even did a good job on my make-up though I say it myself.

I looked in the tall mirrored door of my wardrobe. Yes. I was ready. Ready for inspection. I had just decided that since Helen hadn’t returned I should go across to the front door when I heard her knock. Gingerly I opened it.

"Do come in, please".

I kept by voice down, with the feminine lilt which had indeed been so successful with the security guy. And I am delighted to say that it seemed to work, in fact the whole thing seemed to. To the extent that, for a few seconds, Helen just stood on my doorstep, almost frozen. Then she came in and looked me over.

"Turn round Ben, let me see the full effect."

I did as she asked, managing very successfully on my heels.

"Ben. I have to say this. I’m in a way not surprised that man tried to rape you. You do look good. No, more than that, you look great. I am amazed, I mean. On the video you looked OK, in fact more than OK. But in the flesh - wow!"

I must have blushed. I didn’t know how to respond really, so I offered Helen some tea, she came with me into the kitchen to help prepare things. We ended up sitting on my sofa, sipping tea and having what I had always imagined to be a rather girly talk. Helen asked me loads of questions, about when I liked to dress, and how often, and what I liked to do - and again she asked me - did I think I was really gay?

That last one I hesitated about. For some reason I didn’t want to answer it, I had been being a woman for so many minutes, hours that afternoon, I didn’t want to admit again that I was a man. But I had to.

"I really don’t know, Helen, I’ve not so much experience. I mean, that time with the lock fella, that was so disgusting, it really didn’t count. See what I mean?"

"I do, Ben, I do. But it’s something you’re going to have to think about. I mean, when you go out dressed like that you’re bound to attract attention, you know, you’re going to get men looking at you. And maybe wanting to do more?"

‘When you go out .... ?’ What did that mean? I looked straight at Helen. She read everything into my look, worked it all out, answered all my questions in one go.

"Yes, go out. You can’t go back, Ben. This charming woman I see in front of me, ‘she’ has to come back, to be seen, to go out, well, just to - be. In fact - hang on here for a few minutes, Ben. I’ll be back."

With which words Helen put down her cup, stood up and fairly dashed out of the door. Obviously she had just thought of something, I didn’t know what. So I busied myself in clearing the tea things and generally tidying for a while. Not with any special pleasure in doing housewife things while dressed, it’s just that they needed to be seen to. I had just finished when I heard her come back, I returned to my small living room. Helen was indeed there but she had changed out of her jeans. With a speed I could only admire and envy she had transformed herself, with a careful dash of make-up, a sweater and a skirt and proper shoes instead of trainers, she was not just quite good looking anymore, she was positively attractive. She slipped on her leather blouson as she came in and then surprised me.

"Come on then. We’re off out."

Out? In daylight, now? I couldn’t. But I could see from the way she was standing there, with the door open behind her, I was going to. I was relieved and pleased. This was an appreciation of my efforts, a recognition that I had done a good job. Obviously Helen, wife of a prominent local businessman, would not be seen out with a man dressed in a frock, indeed with any person obviously male and dressed as a woman. So I must look good. Internally I smiled. I picked up my handbag and slipped my door keys in, slung it over my shoulder and followed her. Out.

Out into the big wide world. My previous escapades paled into insignificance compared to this. We went in Helen’s car, soon she was speeding along the ring road, then she turned back towards town a half mile or so and pulled into a car parking space in the jewellery quarter of town. I got out and looked around, never having been in this area before. Quickly Helen came round the car and took my arm and we walked along, for all the world two girl friends out to look at the shops. We had to walk about fifty yards to the arcade we could see in front of us, on the way Helen asked me what she should call me.

"I can’t say ‘Ben’ can I? You have to have a girl’s name. Any ideas?"

I didn’t have to think.

"Well, for a while I’ve often thought about ‘Bethany’. It’s a little like Ben and a nice name, I think."

"Perfect" said Helen, looking over at me and smiling. "I like it."

And then I noticed where we were. Outside a clothes shop, in fact outside ‘CC’s’, one of her husband’s stores. I was a little nervous but Helen was obviously on home ground. As soon as we entered one of the shop-girls came over to greet us.

"Hello Mrs Warner, nice to see you. You look well - how was your holiday?"

They chatted for just a minute or so, then Helen turned to me.

"And this, Vera, is my friend Bethany. She’s after quite a lot of stuff today, some problem with her luggage I think. Can you lend us a hand please?"

And she did. Vera came round the shop with us, offering advice on sizes and materials and so on. Within twenty minutes I had a basket full of clothes, undies, three or four skirts, several tops and sweater, tights, stockings, I was in a trannie dream, this was gorgeous. I wasn’t at all sure about paying. I did have my credit card with me but - it said ‘Ben Jackson’ on it. Whether Helen realised this or not I didn’t know.

"OK Vera, put this on my card will you? And can I do an application for Bethany while we’re here? I think she may need to come back after Christmas. She’s a close friend, can we do a gold card for her? I’ll approve it, Charlie wouldn’t mind I know."

A few minutes later I was signing the application form with my ‘new’ name and Vera handed over a small card in a clear plastic wallet.

"OK Bethany, still now please. This is for the real card."

I looked up, there was a young man beside Vera - with a camera! I must have looked shocked, Vera reached and took my hand and squeezed it gently.

"It’s OK, Bethany, this is for the ID on the proper card. It should only take a few hours to have it done. Don’t worry, this is Erik, he’s very nice really, he won’t bite. "

I relaxed a little as I realised what was going on. Erik asked me to stand still for a moment and took a photo. My very first, the first picture of ‘Bethany’ on film! I couldn’t help smiling to myself, then Helen took my hand.

"Come on Bethany darling, lots to do"

If Helen had called me ‘darling’ in other circumstances, well ... But then I realised, I wasn’t thinking of her in quite the same way as before. OK, she was a very attractive woman. But in some way she wasn’t simply an object of desire. She was a friend. A girl-friend. Not a ‘girlfriend’ as a man would think of her but a friend who was a girl. Like me!

She led me by the hand out of the shop and towards her car.

"OK Bethany, I’m feeling just a little peckish. There’s a wine bar just up the road here, let’s go there for a bit of a snack. Then I want to take you somewhere else."

I was having difficulty keeping up, Helen seemed to be enjoying herself. And so was I. We put all our purchases into the boot of the car and Helen drove us, less than a quarter of a mile. She pulled into the car park - at ‘Senoritas’.

"Helen, hang on, I’m not sure about this" I muttered as she pulled to a halt. I was worried - again. "I know this bar, it’s a well-known pickup place. Several of my friends come here regularly, what if I meet someone I know?"

Helen looked across at me, her gaze swept from my head and down my body to my legs.

"Bethany, if anyone you know sees you here all he’ll do is try to get off with you. In no way will anyone recognise ‘Ben’ in you. Believe me. Anyway it livens up mid-evening, right now there won’t be many people here. We can just get a sandwich and a drink. I really am famished, you must be too, we didn’t have any time for lunch. Come on girl, go for it"

Helen really did give me confidence, so I ‘went for it’. A few minutes later we were sitting at a small table near the bar as a waiter brought us a couple of sandwiches and two glasses of white wine.

"Told you we’d be OK" said Helen. "There’s only about ten people in right now, the place will be heaving at nine. And - any problems, anyone you know?"

I sipped my drink, then gulped slightly.

"The waiter!" I giggled.

"What!" said Helen, almost shouting.

"He’s called Harry" I said. "I knew him quite well last year. We even played football together once"

"Well Bethany, you’ve got away with that one haven’t you. I told you so. I was watching when he came over. Apart from checking out your legs - and mine - and our left hands of course, he didn’t show any signs of recognition at all did he?"

"Left hands?" I muttered. Thick, I must have been, I should have realised.

"Yes. For rings. So he knows I’m married. And more than that he knows you’re available. Well, what about it? Do you fancy him?"

I looked across at Helen, somewhat aghast. Then I realised she was joking with me. But I had an appropriate response.

"Actually, no. Don’t fancy him at all. And I have seen him naked in the showers, he’s nothing to write home about"

We both giggled again. But I thought I should ask Helen what she was thinking - about the whole thing, me, dressing up, Bethany. And the clothes she had bought me. Why?

She stayed quiet for a moment, then put a hand over mine. I looked. It was weird, but comforting. And my train of thought went sideways yet again. What was I thinking? I was thinking ‘nice nail varnish, looks nicer than mine’. Then Helen spoke.

"Well Ben. Let me speak to you as Ben for just a moment. To be honest I’m quite enjoying the dress-up part of this. Like having a doll but life size, and alive. Weird, isn’t it? But really there’s much more to it than that. "

We ate our late lunch and sipped our wine and talked on.

"It’s like getting to know a new person. Like you, Bethany, I know you’re really Ben but you’re very different. Obviously to look at but also to talk to. Like a sort-of sister really, I always wished I’d had a sister. Two brothers, that’s who I grew up with, both older than me. Not exactly lonely but you can’t talk to a man the same way as you can to a woman. Really you can’t. OK, I’ve got Charlie now and we are very happy together but apart from one friend, Kate, I haven’t got any other really close woman friends.

And, with you Ben, there is something else as well. I must be careful, I do keep swapping genders don’t I? There really is a thrill. A sort-of sexual thrill but not like sex. Just knowing that the guys in here are looking at us, imagining they’d like to screw us. And with you, it’s such a vicarious thrill, knowing that all that lust is really in vain. So tell me Bethany, for you, what has been the most exciting moment of your feminine life?"

I had to think. Suddenly in the last few days, indeed the last few hours, so much had happened.

"Well Helen. I’m not really sure. The very first time I went out dressed, in my mother’s business suit when she and Dad were on holiday. I walked down the street and round the corner and I felt so free. Even when a man stopped me to ask for a light, I didn’t smoke at all then so I had to say no. But he had taken me for a woman, that was so much fun. And when I got let off by the policeman in that supermarket, that was some sort of fun in a way. And ... no."

"What?" asked Helen, wanting to know more. "Come on, tell me, woman-to-woman."

"Well. It was the other day. When that David guy, he had mistaken me for a woman, for you in fact. It was - I hardly dare admit this."

"Go on, Bethany, you’ll feel better when you’ve said it."

"It was when he had exposed himself to me. I was stroking his - his cock - he was totally in my power. I just loved that, being able to control a man like that."

"Well Bethany, you really are a woman now. We all know about that, about using our sexual wiles to get what we want. Speaking of which, there’s a rather handsome guy at the bar staring at you right now - don’t look."

I wanted to turn round bit didn’t.

"Bethany, I want you to have some fun. In a moment, just turn and look at him, he’s wearing a blue shirt, it’s far too young and bright for him really and he’s rather full of himself. Go on, turn and look now, and slide your skirt hem up, I dare you!"

"Helen, what kind of a woman do you think I am?"

Had I really said that? But she was right, I knew I had to so I did just that. I shuffled round on my seat as I finished my wine and felt my skirt hem slide up. So I reached down casually and began to tease the hem with my red-tipped fingers, glancing down to notice that it had slid right up and was exposing all my stocking top and a fair amount of bare leg too. I looked up and saw him, and I smiled.

He looked so embarrassed. In a way so was I, thinking of what I had just done. I looked at Helen who was trying not to laugh. She stood up and picked up her bag.

"Come on now, Bethany dear, enough of this flirting. It’s nearly five, we have just time to get to Edgbaston. I want to show you that ‘CCs’ store, it’s bigger than the one we saw earlier, and there’s s gorgeous range of underwear there. And there’s someone I want you to meet."

We skipped together out to the car - I really was having so much fun. Helen drove us quickly and smoothly through the Birmingham streets, and within five minutes we were pulling up outside another ‘CCs’ store, this one obviously much larger. Helen parked in front of the shop and led me to the front door. As we opened it there was something of a whoop of joy from our left. We turned and a flamboyantly dressed woman, maybe late twenties, rushed towards us,

"Helen, dear, when did you get back? You do look well, and a bit of a tan too, I hope you didn’t overdo the sun. Or were you just lounging and watching the men, I bet you were?!"

Helen spoke much more quietly. "Hello Kate, nice to see you too. I bet you’re looking forward to Christmas. And how’s Lennie?"

That’s still something I didn’t understand about women, the way they can keep on talking, asking question after question of each other and never getting or even expecting an answer. As if every question is rhetorical, it doesn’t need an answer, and is complete in its’ own right. But this time Kate did answer, grabbing Helen by the arm and leading her into the store.

"Lennie? He’s still gorgeous. And still - very fit."

That one I did understand, a shorthand way of saying that sex with him was good. Helen turned towards me.

"Hang on a moment Kate, I need to introduce you. This is my good friend Bethany, she’s after something rather special for the festive season. Undies mainly, I think, and I don’t mean white and cotton."

Kate turned and greeted me, beaming and bouncing all the while. "Oh, I see. Hi there Bethany. A man in mind obviously. How about you have a good look round at the top end of the store? I need to ask Helen a couple of things. Geraldine is sorting some stock there if you need some help. Sorry, I don’t want to seem rude, but I really must show Helen a dress I’m thinking of buying for her party, I have to get it today if I’m going to. OK?"

I smiled an ‘OK’ back and made my way to the back of the store. I did indeed find a young girl with a ‘Geraldine’ badge, she helped me a little with sorting out what I wanted. I’m pretty sure I didn’t make much of a fool of myself, I knew quite a bit about the sort of styles and colours involved in women’s underwear, I don’t think Geraldine realised I was pumping her for details just a little. I did end up with rather more than I thought I would be buying, four bra and panties sets, in white and black and red and burgundy, and several pairs of tights and stockings. And, I picked up several pairs of earrings and two rings and two bracelets - and a very swish black leather handbag. At the checkout, as I flashed my ‘gold card’ in a rather impressive way Helen and Kate joined us and Helen commented rather favourably on my choices.

At which, again from our left, there was another cry, not a feminine whoop this time but a more masculine cry, though with no less enthusiasm.

"Helen, hello there".

I turned to see a tall man giving Helen a kiss on the cheek and hugging her.

"So good to see you, you’ve just missed Charlie, he’s gone over to the Coventry store to sort out some staffing problem over there. He said you were back but I didn’t expect you in here today. I thought you’d finished all your Christmas shopping.

"Hi Andrew. Good to see you too. I just needed to come in briefly with a friend of mine. Andrew, this is Bethany, Bethany, meet Andy. Be nice to him, he’s the store manager. He’s a gorgeous guy when you get to know him, really."

Andrew shook my hand and smiled.

"Hello there, any friend of Helen is a friend of mine. I hope you’re here to spend as much as Helen, we can use the business."

He looked at the large bags I was carrying. Probably a delight to any store manager, business in quantity means profit after all. Then he saw my ‘gold card’.

"Oh no" he called out in mock dismay.

"Sorry Bethany, he’s just gone off you. That card - staff discount equals reduced profit. He’s a businessman after all. Men, all they care about is money."

Kate came up to speak to ‘the boss’.

"Andy, there’s a problem, till three, Tracy has locked it with the button and hasn’t got the key."

Kate took my arm as I was looking at Andy walking briskly down the row of tills.

"Don’t even think about it, Bethany, you can stop staring. Andrew isn’t interested in either of us. Not interested in women at all, that is. What a shame, what a waste, I wish my Lennie had a body like that."

Helen had heard us "Kate, I’m surprised at you, Lennie is a fine figure of a man. Anyway, come on Bethany, the store’s closing in a few minutes and we should be off."

She took my arm and began to lead me out of the store . As we strolled towards the door together Andrew came back and very politely opened it for us, then Helen had to dash back for a moment to say something to another of the staff. I was left talking quietly to Andrew, very nervously I must admit, about Christmas and so on, just for a minute or two, standing on the pavement outside the store. Then Helen came out again and looked at us chatting together. Suddenly Andrew stopped, almost in mid-sentence. He was looking at me. Not exactly rudely, but in a way he was staring. What had I said? Or? I thought I recognised the ‘look’, I’d seen it or something very like it once before, on the face of a policewoman in the Ladies in a supermarket.

Helen saw the look on his face too, she grabbed me and turned me towards the car. I looked at her quizzically.

"Does he... ?"

"Yes" she said.

‘Fuck’ I thought.

 

End of Part 4

 

 

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