Wishes for You. Flatmates

by

Scooter

 

What can you do when the person who shares your home and the bills moves out? The choices are simple, either you go bankrupt or you look around for someone else to share the bills and hope that it will be someone you can live with. Frankly, I was glad that Bill had gone. When he first came he seemed fine, but after a while his sloppy habits, both personal and domestic, had made life uncomfortable and I half felt I ought to fumigate his room before letting anyone else use it .I suspect he was glad to go - he felt I was fussy because I didn't tuck dirty socks under cushions and liked to change my underwear at least once a day. However, he had gone at last and I sent up a little prayer of thanks and resolved to be more careful in who I chose next time.

I'd better introduce myself. My name is Peter and I hate being called Pete, though I hated Bill's calling me Petie-boy even more. I have a decent job in a City of London office working for middle-sized import/export business, and though at times I get a bit irritated because other people whom I have trained get promoted whilst I stay put, I make a reasonable living and have a pretty good life. I'm bisexual, by the way but lean more to men than women, and I haven't had a serious relationship with anyone for a very long time. Come to think of it, I don’t think I have ever had a serious relationship and it has been a long time since I have had even a passing fancy. My firm is very conservative in its outlook, so it would be a problem if it ever became known that I liked men, so I live a very straight life. I don't think Bill ever caught on, and anyone who wanted a relationship with him would have to fancy Godzilla.

Back to business. I decided that I would have to advertise, and would at the very least want someone with sanitary habits, so I sat down at the computer to draft a notice. The computer flagged "You have E-mail" which I took to mean that someone was trying to sell me something I didn't want or tell me how to make a fortune, but I thought I would have a look anyway. It was strange.

 

Sender: Wishes for you.

Subject. Wishes for Peter.

Dear Peter,

Ours is a new organisation dedicated to enriching life for a selected few in very special ways. We know that you are seeking someone to share your home. Therefore:

We will guarantee to find you a flat sharer with whom you will be totally compatible. Nothing less than 100% compatibility will meet our high standards.

If we succeed in this, and we are confident that we shall, then you will receive further attractive possibilities later, but first, please meet our potential flatmate and test our service.

Should you wish to take up our offer, reply as soon as possible. This message will disappear from your computer after seven days and you will not be able to make contact with us after that unless you have already replied.

Signed: Wishes for You.

 

I was totally baffled. How did they know that I was looking for someone to share since I had only just decided to do anything about it? How could they guarantee compatibility when they had never met me? What was this organization with the silly name anyway?

I emailed them asking about charges and was told that their was a free service, but that my reply indicated that I might be interested. "We have, therefore, taken the liberty of asking the person whom we think will be right for you to call this afternoon at two o'clock. We feel sure that you and he will become friends."

This seemed like impertinence on their part and I was very reluctant to consider their offer, but since it was already half past one, there was no way that I could put off this caller and I was curious anyway to see what sort of freak this absurd organization would send. Even so, I went to the door when the bell rang, prepared for trouble.

The guy on the step was about my own age, thirtyish or perhaps a bit less, medium height and slimly built; quite good-looking in his way. Since I was about six inches taller and have a pretty good physique, I didn't find him threatening, but even so, these days you have to be careful.

"I know it sounds silly," he said, "but are you by any chance looking for someone to share your flat? I had a very unexpected email this morning, just as I was about to start looking for a new place, telling me to come here."

He showed me a printout of his email, which was virtually identical with mine, and from which I noticed that his name was Chris

" I had a further mail just a little while ago telling me to come here at two," he told me, "and I was so intrigued by it that I just had to come along. What really got me was that it was only last evening that my current flatmate told me that his girlfriend was moving in and they wanted me to leave, so nobody could possibly have known that I would be starting to look for a place."

I suggested that we stroll down to the pub to talk about it and get to know one another a little better, and over a drink we compared notes. Neither of us had ever heard of this organization, neither of us knew how they had discovered that we were in the market for sharing a place, and each of us began to feel that it might work.

We went up to have a look at the flat, two large bedrooms so we each had a decent private space, then a shared sitting room, kitchen and bathroom. He seemed clean and decent and didn't smell, but then Bill hadn't at first.

We looked at Bill's room and he screwed his nose up a bit. "Did the previous occupant keep ferrets? Or a monkey?" Chris asked with a grin. I explained, and his reaction convinced me that I wouldn't have the same problem with him as I had before.

"I'd better tell you now," I said, "I'm gay and might be bringing boyfriends back. If that bothers you we can call it off now."

"That will save me being jealous of gorgeous girlfriends then. What happens if we bring friends back?"

"Usual arrangement - the other keeps out of the way and what happens in our own rooms is our own business. I do promise, though, that I won't come on to you, because obviously you prefer the gorgeous girls."

"Chance would be a fine thing," Chris said. "I can't seem to keep a steady girl. The last one told me I was an undersized wimp, and as you can guess, that did nothing for my self-confidence. Then a couple of days later I was asked to leave the flat, so just at the moment I'm feeling a bit down. Why am I telling you this? It's not your worry, but already you feel like the sort of friend I can talk to."

We arranged that he could have a few days to sort things out, I would get cleaners in to give the room a really good clean-out, and at the end of the next week Chris would move in. We would each have our own fridge and do our own cooking and share cleaning duties.

It worked, though not quite as we expected. Chris watched me cook, sniffed the results, then suggested that we split the food bill and he would cook for both of us. In return, I would keep the bathroom clean. As we lived together, we sorted out all kinds of small details like that, and soon became fast friends with a very happy domestic life. I didn't find any new boyfriends and Chris didn't seem to have any girl friends, but that didn't seem to matter. He had told me that he wasn't gay and I had no desire to upset our happy home by treating him as anything other than a friend whom I came to value more each week. I knew the feeling was mutual.

One thing, which might have been awkward, was sharing the bathroom, but any awkwardness disappeared as we got to know one another better, and in a very short time we stopped worrying about privacy there. That is when things changed.

Sharing a bathroom is all very well, but when the toilet is in the bathroom it can be tricky. So it came about one evening that I absolutely had to pee or leave a puddle on the carpet and barged into the bathroom whilst Chris was in the bath. He tried to cover an erection, but failed, so I decided to spare his obvious embarrassment by making a joke of it.

"Someone is having happy thoughts!" was the best I could come up with. I don't know if he blushed or if it was just the effect of the hot water. "Sorry to barge in but I absolutely had to use the loo. I'm sorry if I embarrassed you."

"That's OK, don't worry. Peter, I've got to talk to you and this is as good a time as any. I'm not gay and I have never fancied men, but nowadays if I have fantasies they are about you and what we might be like together, but you try so hard not to come on to me that I don't know how you feel. I'm in such a state of muddle that I don't know where I am, but I'm sure that someone as tall and handsome as you could never care about somebody like me, Oh, I know I'm stupid to say all this and I ought never to have said anything and I'm sorry I spoke…………."

This all came out in such a rush that I could hardly tell what Chris was saying, and to my horror I saw that he was on the verge of tears.

"Come on," I said, "get out of the bath and get dry, then we can sit and talk in comfort. Is all this fuss because I came in whilst you were having a happy wank? We all do it you know!"

He snuffled, and I left him to pull himself together and got a couple of beers out of the kitchen. In a short time he came through wrapped in his robe and sat at the table."

"Chris! Sit here now." I told him firmly and patted the seat beside me on the couch.

"Now, I'm going to do some straight talking and you are going to listen. OK?"

He nodded and sniffed.

"The only reason I have never made any approaches to you is that you told me that you are straight and I value your friendship too much to put it at risk. What makes you think I couldn't fancy you?"

"I'm just an undersized wimp. My last girlfriend told me plainly, and every girl I've gone out with seemed to think the same thing. I've never had a proper relationship with a girl, and I've hardly ever had a girl friend at all. You are tall and good-looking and there's no reason at all why you should care about me."

"You've been here for nearly four months. Have you noticed flocks of men following me home? It' a long time since I have had a boy-friend and I care more about you than I have about any of them. Those remarks from that girl really hurt, didn't they. Let me tell you honestly. Yes, you are short for a man but that's not important. Did you know that one of the handsomest film stars ever, Alan Ladd, made most of his films standing on a box because he was so small? So you aren't tall, but you are slim and uncommonly good-looking. Trust me on that. More important you are kind, gentle and caring, and if those girls were too stupid to see it, they deserve the macho-men that will find who will probably beat them like a drum. And what's more, if they ever got as far as what I just saw in the bath, they could never call you undersized."

He was unconvinced. "You are just being kind to cheer me up."

"Don't be stupid." I put all the scorn I could into that. "Chris, over these months I have come to count you as the best friend I ever had, and I admire you in a thousand ways. I hope you feel the same and love me as I love you. And if we could become lovers as well, that would be the icing on the cake. Do you want to explore what we can do to express our love for one another? Do you love me as I have just told you I love you?"

The poor guy burst into tears again then told me that nobody had ever said such things to him and that he could hardly believe that anyone could care for him like that. Then he added that he was scared and really wasn't gay.

"Can I make a suggestion?" I asked him. "For this first time, treat me as if I were a girl. I haven't given anyone a good blowjob in ages, and nobody has fucked me for months. Can we try that for now? You are macho man and I am your loving girl friend - OK? Now mop up and take off that silly robe. Do you want to play here or in a bedroom?"

I slid my hand up his leg and began to caress his thigh, going very slowly so as not to scare him, and he let his robe fall open. He was in truth nobly endowed and I had meant it when I said that nobody could call him undersized. I slipped to my knees in front of him and took him into my mouth, then after a few moments of teasing him, I said "Coe on into the bedroom. I need that cock."

I think my plain language shocked him a bit, but when I took hold of him to lead him to my room, he followed meekly. He didn’t have much choice I suppose since I was leading him by the penis, but that is by the way.

In my room, I slipped off my clothes and, for the first time, gave my dear Chris a real kiss, then I pulled him down on top of me on to the bed. "I want to see your face," I told him, "so if you don't mid, we'll start this way. Put this on please." I produced a condom from the bedside drawer, and realize with a bit of a shock that it was the last one I had. "These days, always play safe, even with people you know."

I helped him to put it on, used a bit of lube on my arse, then showed him how to position himself so that I could put my legs up on his shoulders, and told him to push gently but firmly on my pucker. I pushed down on him, and it was so long since anyone had been there that it was a bit uncomfortable, but very quickly the old familiar and delightful feeling of fullness overcame me. He started to move inside, then just as I was beginning to enjoy it properly, he came.

"Peter, I knew I would be no good. You have been so kind and I have spoiled it all."

"It happens, and it's because you were over-excited. It doesn't matter, because if you want to we can try again and again for a lifetime until we get it right. Only thing is, not tonight because that was my last condom. But love isn't just about fucking. Let's explore each other."

I pulled him down alongside me and we rejoiced in the simple pleasures of skin against skin, of deep and loving kisses and of the pleasure of having someone else masturbate you instead of doing it for yourself. And of course we talked about feelings, about experiences, about how we might express our love, about all the silly little things that new lovers tell each other. I discovered that he was in every way a virgin, and that I was his first real love, and I began to suspect that his failures with girls were because he was really gay but would not admit it. That didn't matter - labels never do. I loved him and he loved me and that was the end of the matter.

The next day I stocked up on condoms, then after supper he asked if I would fuck him. He told me that I looked so happy when he was inside me that he knew it must be marvelous. I warned him that the first time would probably be painful, then gently initiated him into the pleasures of love, which he took to like a duck to water.

We had almost forgotten about the emails that had brought us together, but the next morning we each had a message from our benefactors.

 

From: Wishes for you

To: Peter and Chris.

At last you have found your true selves and your true relationship has begun. Our policy is that we grant you three wishes. The first, unspoken one, you have already had, that we brought you together as ideal partners at a time of great unhappiness for both of you. The second wish is one that each of you has for the other, not for yourselves, and the third is one that we will wish for you once we know your deepest needs and desires.

Please will you each email us today to tell us what your wish is for the other. Do not discuss this until after you have made your wishes, otherwise our offer is invalidated.

Signed: Wishes for you.

 

At first this seemed like nonsense, but then when we thought of the strangeness of that initial approach, it seemed as if there might be something in it and that magic had truly come back into the world. I racked my brains to decide what I might want for Chris, but in the end the only thing I could think of was that he might find true happiness in life, and this was the wish I made for him. He was very quiet all that morning, then he went to the computer and sent off his message.

After only a few moments we had an acknowledgement, telling us that our wishes were perfectly acceptable and had been granted, and adding that as an incidental part of our wishes, we would have a very long and healthy life together. We were now at liberty to discuss what we had said.

Chris told me that he had remembered how I had told him that I felt unappreciated at work and had wished that I should get the recognition I deserved, whilst I told him that I had simply wanted him to be happy, at which he hugged me and told me that now he had found me, he had all the happiness he needed.

That day we talked and made love all day, each making love to the other in every way we could think of, and discovering that we both enjoyed everything we did to each other. It seemed to both of us that this was the start of a wonderful life together. We agreed that we would both take tests for anything going so that we could dispense with condoms and pledged ourselves to a life of faithfulness to one another. It was a good beginning to that happiness we both hoped for.

Outside our personal life, nothing seemed to happen for a while and we assumed that the emails we had received were a hoax, until one morning I was called into the boss's office. He told me that an opportunity for promotion had arisen and asked if I wanted the job, telling me that my immediate boss had argued strongly against my being promoted because I was too useful where I was and he didn't want to lose me. I had suspected for a while that this had been happening, but there was nothing I could do about it except to accept the offer, at which I was told that the attempt to block my promotion had gone very much in my favour. "If you are that good, you are worth using in a more responsible position, and we shall be keeping an eye on you."

I liked the new job, and one of the minor pleasures it gave me was that my former supervisor who had stood in my way for so long now had to report to me. That does make you feel good!

Then the problem came. A few weeks after my promotion, a letter dropped on to my desk:

 

"Dear Peter,

In three weeks time there is to be a formal dinner for members of our trade association at which we have to be represented by a number of senior staff and their partners. In view of your recent promotion, I feel that it would be beneficial for you to know our colleagues and competitors in business at a social level, so I invite you to be one of our party along with your partner, whom we understand is called Chris. Since you have so recently been promoted to senior rank, I realize that Christine may not have a suitable evening dress, so the company will make you a grant with which she can purchase a suitable gown.

I have received glowing reports of your work, and my wife and I both hope to get to know you and Christine at a personal level.

Yours sincerely

John Williams, Chairman."

 

There was no way that I could refuse such a generous invitation, but I knew that if at this point I came out and told them that Chris was a man, my chances of further promotion were vanishingly small. I had mentioned that my partner was called Chris and the assumption had been made that Chris was female.

I took the letter home and shared it with him, then we sat and looked at one another, neither of us knowing what to say or do. I had to go, that was clear. I ought to have a partner called Christine, that was expected. If I came out and admitted I was gay and Chris was male, it would be a disaster. If Chris made an excuse, it would only delay things. We could see no answer.

Then my computer switched itself on and I had email from Wishes for You.

 

The answer, Peter and Chris, is quite clear. There are several companies in London, which will help Chris to appear as a convincing and rather beautiful young woman. The best of them is xxxxxxxxxx

and an appointment has been made for him tomorrow morning at ten o'clock. Good luck and enjoy the dinner.

Signed: Wishes for You.

 

"But I have to go to work tomorrow, and I could never get away with it anyway," Chris said, but when I took a good look at him I thought differently. His slim build and delicate features were very much in his favour and with his intelligence and charm I felt sure that he could do it. His job didn't matter very much - he worked as a Sales Assistant in a department store with poor pay and long hours, and I felt sure he deserved better anyway.

We really had very little choice, so in the morning he rang in to say that he would not be returning to the store and set off for his appointment.

I hardly knew the person who greeted me on my return from work. The door was opened by a truly beautiful woman, dressed in jeans and sweater, but undeniably female.

"Peter, I feel such a fool," Chris said. "They told me that I should stay this way right through until the day of the dinner so that I shall be comfortable dressed as a woman, and I have to go back another couple of times to get more guidance. Apparently it's specially important that I wear heels all the time to get used to them. I just can't do it. I've never felt as terrible as I did on the bus coming home. Everyone stared at me and I knew that were wondering why I was in drag."

"I'm sure they looked. Even I can't believe it, love. You look like a model even in jeans and a sweater and they looked because they saw a gorgeous girl, not a man in drag."

"And you won't believe what it's going to cost. By the time I've got more girly clothes and makeup and we've paid for the center, it will be a fortune. I won't get any pay either since I gave my notice. And they've stuck these breasts on with glue and I can't get them off."

He was near to tears again, so I took him in my arms and hugged him, assuring him that we had plenty of money for whatever was needed and that I loved him and he was truly beautiful.

Chris had prepared a meal, and it was the worst dinner he had ever made. A couple of mouthfuls and I'd had enough. He looked at me and grinned.

"It's awful isn't it. I was so upset I just couldn't concentrate."

I told him that we were going out for a meal, and had the expected protest that he couldn't go out in fancy dress, but in the end he gave in and I had the unexpected pleasure of walking into a restaurant with a beautiful woman on my arm. He was right when he said people stared, and I felt very proud of my companion that evening.

I was even more so when the formal dinner came. Chris was stunningly beautiful in the formal gown and the three weeks he had spent dressed as a woman, during which I had insisted on going out several times, meant that he was able to carry things off with great confidence. His wit and charm captivated everyone that he met and at the end of the evening, Sir John, the Chairman of our company, told me what an enormous pleasure it had been to meet my lovely partner.

"In these days, I don't suppose you will think of getting married, but if I were you I would jump at the chance. Lovely gd me to help him to start softening the glue that held his artificial breasts in place and as soon s we could manage I he was his natural self again. He showered to remove the rest of he glue and solvent, then put on he clothing that had been supplied.

It was on each other's arms.

In the morning we made up for it. We talked about the dinner and I told Chris how proud I had been of the way he captured the hearts of everyone there.

"You know, Peter, now I feel much more confident and at home as a woman than I ever did as an undersized man. It will be hard to go back."

"I don't want you ever to be a woman," I told him, squeezing his cock. "I like this too much. Make love to me, please."

He was deep inside, breasts dangling above me and just beginning to drive me mad, when the phone rang. I reached out to answer it.

"Peter, it's Jean Williams - we met last evening. Is your adorable Chris there, please?"

I handed Chris the phone, hissing at him that it was the Chairman's wife. We were close enough that I could hear both sides of the conversation.

"My dear, I thought you were absolutely lovely last evening and I'd love to get to know you better. I always have lunch with a couple of fiends on Thursday. Can you join us? It's just a simple lunch and of course you will be there as my guest."

"Please, Lady Williams…."

"Jean, my dear, just Jean."

"Please Jean, I'm just a working girl and I don't know what to wear and probably haven't anything suitable anyway."

"You mean that man of yours doesn't buy you proper clothes? Just put him back on the line."

He handed the phone over, and as I tried to talk sensibly was moving inside me just enough to make me gasp.

"Peter, that dear girl deserves a proper wardrobe. Meet me in town this afternoon and I will take her shopping. You will be there just to carry bags and use your cards."

I didn't reply for a moment, then she said

"Don't worry dear boy. We'll just tour Marks and Spencer and find some lovely things that won't cost a fortune."

I still could hardly speak but gave a slightly strangled "Yes, thank you" when Jean laughed

"Oh, my dears, I've just realized. You probably aren't up yet and I'm just interrupting a lazy morning"

I lied. "Of course we are up, Lady Williams, …"

I really didn't know what to say when Chris giggled and called out,

"He's lying, Jean. He is up but not out of bed."

There was a roar of laughter from the other end of the line. "I'd almost forgotten what it is like to be young and in love. Peter, give your lovely lady an extra, er, hug for me, and I shall see you at two."

She told him where we were to meet, and I put the phone down and tried to tell Chris what I though of his embarrassing me as he had, but then he said

"I wonder what she would have though if she knew that her lovely girl was several inches up you" and we both dissolved into happy laughter.

Over lunch we talked further about what had happened, and Chris said

"There's no way back is there? I'm stuck as Christine for at least as long as you work for this company. Things are out of control again."

I agreed, but then he said "It doesn't matter much since I like it this way, but I don't know how we go about sorting all the paperwork, and I don't want to go further than we have because I love fucking you just as much as I like to be fucked."

We had a fun afternoon with Lady Williams, whom we both learned to call Jean, and who teased us unmercifully about her call that morning, and returned home laden with purchases and much poorer than when we went out. Chris insisted on trying on most of what we had bought, especially the lingerie, and looked quite lovely though to me he looked even more so when he took off the special pants he had been wearing to give him a feminine shape below the belt and allowed hi cock to stand free. The combination of that with the very realistic semi-permanent breast-forms made him incredibly sexy.

The doorbell rang, most unexpectedly on a Saturday afternoon, and when I went it was a special deliver package addressed to Ms. C. Hunter. At first I was puzzled. My surname is Hunter but there was no Ms. C Hunter, but then I noticed the return address, "Wishes for You". Inside was a package containing a bra and pants and a complete set of identification, driving license and passport for Chris as Ms Christine Hunter, with which he could take up a new life as my life partner if that was what he chose, whilst Christopher could quietly drop out of things. He accepted it with great excitement.

We looked for an email, and sure enough there was one waiting when we booted up the computer.

 

Dear Peter and Chris,

We hope that our service to date has been what you hoped for. It is now time for your third wish, the one we choose for you both. You can refuse this if you have any reservations.

If you choose, Chris will change so that the artificial appearance becomes real. He will become female in all respects except that he will keep the fully operative set of male genitals that you both enjoy so much. These will reduce in size when flaccid so that there are no inappropriate bulges, and he will only have an erection when he wishes it so as to save any embarrassment. We hope this will meet with your approval.

If you wish to proceed, then reply immediately. Once you have done so, use the solvent you have been given to remove the artificial breast forms and Chris must remain naked for the next 24 hours except for the lingerie you will have received. This must be worn for the full 48 hours. Any feeling of being unwell is normal and should be ignored.

Wishes for You.

 

What should we do? Chris had no hesitation and asked me to help him to start softening the glue that held his artificial breasts in place and as soon s we could manage I he was his natural self again. He showered to remove the rest of he glue and solvent, then put on he clothing that had been supplied.

It was only an hour of so before he began to complain that he felt ill, but since we knew this was to be expected we didn't worry. I put him to bed with him wincing every time I touched him. The next two days were terrible. Poor Chris tossed and turned trying to get comfortable and finding it impossible, and I spent my time sitting near the bed wishing I could do something to help, but the best I could do was to make sure he had plenty of cool drinks and occasionally help him to the bathroom. This began on Saturday evening and by Monday morning I was so worried about him that I didn’t want to leave him whilst I went to work, but he insisted that he was feeling rather better and I must go. With great reluctance and feeling very guilty I left my dear love on his sickbed.

I got home as soon as I could and was delighted to find him up and about. He looked weak and washed out, but he assured me that he was fine and wanted to show me his body. He looked at the clock.

"What time was it when all this started? I think we have just about done the 48 hours since Saturday evening. Do you think it might be safe for me to take off the sticky underwear that I've had on for two days?"

I suggested he give it another hour for safety and I rang to order a take-away meal to save having to prepare supper.

"When we have eaten, it will be time," I told him, and after our meal the first food he had taken since Saturday, Chris stood up, slipped off his robe and we went across to the mirror together. The bra, which had hung empty on his chest, was full, and when he removed it he displayed a pair of lovely breasts with large dark nipples that I just had to touch. He shuddered.

"That was a wonderful sensation. I've never felt anything like it before. Do you think it will be like that every time you touch me there?"

The only answer I could give was that we would have to find out, then he slipped out of his pants. At first it was a disappointment. His arse was beautiful, rounded and lovely. But his cock and balls looked like some of the pictures I had seen of she-males who used hormones, almost atrophied.

"I wondered about that," Chris said, " because I could feel how small I was, but we were warned of this. Watch!"

He concentrated for a moment, then his genitals began to grow, and his cock rose until it stood as proud as ever I had seen it. If anything, it was bigger than it had been.

"I discovered this in bed this afternoon. The email told us that I would have control over erections and I discovered that if I will it to be there it grows. Don't you wish you could do that, lover?"

Even haggard and washed out he was beautiful, and as he ate and drank over the next couple of days, he filled out in all the right places. He had been gorgeous as a cross-dresser, but now the lines of his face had softened to an even more feminine shape and his figure was devastating. I had been proud of him before, but now it was my turn to worry that someone so wonderful might not want me.

The lunch with Jean and her friends was a great success and it was the beginning of a friendship that grew deeper as time went on. She and Sir John had no family, and she told Chris that she had found the daughter she had always wanted, so much so that when we got married she stood in as the bride's mother.

Oh yes, we did get married. I was never sure if it was quite legal, but the papers Chris had been given made it very easy for us to arrange, and Chris made a truly beautiful bride. Perhaps he shouldn't have worn white though, because he certainly was no virgin by that time, and it must have been one of the very few wedding nights on which the bride and groom took turns to fuck each other.

All this was a long time ago and we are still enjoying the promise of perfect happiness together. I still get a thrill when I look at my beautiful wife and he loves all the feminine fripperies that her new body allowed him to enjoy. He still gets great pleasure from my playing with his breasts, by the way - almost as much as I do, and we count ourselves as two of the luckiest people in the world.

At work I was steadily promoted and when Sir John retired I became Chairman, but perhaps the greatest surprise came when Lady Williams died and left everything to Chris. By that time she more or less owned the company, so my wife is now my boss. That, though, was not the surprise. After the will was settled, Jean's lawyer gave us a sealed envelope, which she had given him to be used if, and only if, the will was contested. It said, in legal language, that Jean had known almost from the beginning that "my lovely daughter Christine was once Christopher, and this will was made in the full knowledge of that fact. She is, and has always been, the daughter I could never have." There was no contest and we mourned the loss of a dear friend and a beloved mother figure.

 

 

 

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