This chapter dwells upon Sian And Margaret's decision to live at the 'cottage' The logistics prove to be perfect and the 'family' begins to grow. All in all a very sweet chapter with some surprising developments towards the end.

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We bid farewell to Sandie after lunch. The children were sorry to see her go and tears flowed profusely on all sides. She promised them that she would be down for Christmas and this cheered them up a little but it was a subdued household that watched her car disappear down the lane.

The children returned to the horses with Sian and after some training in the paddock they went out trekking onto a large hill called ‘The Dumplin’ behind the cottage. Margaret and I fell to chatting and reading the papers in the drawing room.

“Beverly, I’ve been thinking.”

“Oh-oh. Go on,” I replied glancing up from the Sunday supplement I was reading.

“D’you think it would be better if Martin were to live here?”

“Oooh. I’m not sure about that. I mean -, what would social services say?”

“No. I don’t mean live with you, here in the cottage. I mean if we all came to live here.”

“Well the cottage is certainly big enough, but I’d be worried what Social
Services would make of it. I mean a transvestite man and a transvestite little boy under the same roof. It would only give them more ammunition if they decided to make a case.”

Margaret waited then let a short silence ensue between us. I knew of old, that this usually meant Margaret was about to make a suggestion. I studied her thoughtful expression and smiled.

“Go on. Penny for your thoughts?”

“Well -, and you must say immediately if you object, you know the two large stone barns on the opposite side of the yard.”

“Yee-es,” I replied cautiously.

“They’re huge spaces aren’t they?”

It was quite common in older farms for the barns to exceed the size of the farmhouse. They were after all, Georgian agriculture’s equivalent of factory buildings.

The two big stone barns that remained after the stable block refurbishment were still sound buildings. They formed one of the remaining two sides of the large quadrangle that comprised the farmyard. The fourth side comprised just smaller outbuildings and in truth I had considered doing those first as funds accumulated. I hadn’t really considered the two big stone barns for that would take a lot of money.

I had intended to refurbish them one day when funds ran to it but I was in no great hurry. I hadn’t had a reason to rush it; my cottage had been plenty big enough for any of my perceived needs. The barns were structurally sound but they were empty except for a few odds and ends. The rooves didn’t leak so they weren’t deteriorating.

Margaret steepled her fingers and pursed her lips thoughtfully before she spoke.

“Have you thought of a barn conversion?”

“What you mean turn them into apartments or something?”

“Exactly.”

“Well not really. I mean I bought the cottage with privacy in mind. I wanted somewhere where I could indulge my needs. The idea of having neighbours so close puts a bit of a damper on things.”

“But if those neighbours were sympathetic and supportive -?”

She let the question hang as realisation dawned in my slow thinking brain.
“Are you suggesting that you -?”

“Only if you’re willing. I mean, we already know about you’re needs and now little Martin needs somewhere safe away from prying eyes. This place would be as ideal for him as it is for you.”

The thought of having Sian and Margaret as neighbours living in one of the converted old barns was suddenly very attractive. I weighed up the pros and cons and decided there were very few, if any cons.

There would be support for Jenny and Beatrice as they grew up. That is, proper female support as they entered puberty and beyond. Despite their being lesbians Margaret and Sian were lovely people. As a kid in care I had suffered almost as much at the hands of misanthropic lesbians as I had at the hands of paedophiles, and I could not help but treat lesbians and gays with considerable trepidation.

I couldn’t help it. In this I had to confess to being wholly wrong morally and hypocritically prejudiced but as the Chinese say, ‘as is bent the twig, so grows the tree’. I just couldn’t help it. My childhood had left me flawed. My reactions to gays, I knew were unbalanced and prejudiced and it was my fault but I tended to bunch them together until I really got to know them as individuals.

I had slowly come to trust Margaret and Sian and they were only the second gay couple to actually penetrate my mental armour and actually enter my life proper. That says a lot for their natures for my armour had only been pierced once before and that was by Billy and Mac, my shipping partners and firm friends. With Billy and Mack it had been friendship for couple of years before I learned that they were an Item. That just shows how a couple of gays can easily hide their relationship if they choose for during those years we had been living cheek by jowl on the little tanker between Singapore and Pattaya.

Margaret was a very pretty ‘lipstick lesbian’ who would be able to readily guide the girls as they grew up. Sian of course, whilst still being feminine and very pretty, was a typical outdoor, athletic ‘horsy’ type.

If they lived in one of the converted barns, Sian would be ‘living over the shop’ with the horses and that would make the child-minding logistics much easier. She would be around the cottage and the barns nearly all the time unless she had business in Poole. There would always be an adult here for the kids and it meant I could slip up to London when the shipping affairs or my transvestite needs dictated. Although now I was virtually living full time as a woman those needs had somewhat atrophied. I found ample companionship in Sissy’s hotel

‘Yes,’ I concluded, ‘all in all, the arrangement had a lot of advantages.’

The four children would be company for each other and provide support for Martin. The girls had already accepted Martin’s needs.

I would have adult company and support in my own life as I brought up my girls and entered old age. I was already in my fifties after all and partially retired.

There would be two adults to care for Jenny and Beatrice when I went as relief master on my ship. Fortunately it was my own ship so there would be no objections there when I turned up as a woman in command.

Mac and Billy the regular master and chief engineer, were both gay and both sympathetic to my transvestism for I had long ago discussed this with them. Mac and Billy were the first gays to actually break down my fears about gays. Jesse and Supan also knew of my transvestism, so there would be no conflict there. Plenty of women were now commanding ships.

‘Yes’ I concluded, ‘there were lots of pros to Margaret and Sian living in one of the barns’. I nodded slowly and Margaret gave me a hug.

“Funds are a bit tight though Margaret,” I cautioned. “I was saving those for Jenny and Bea’s secondary schooling. It’ll take a while to scrape up a deposit for a mortgage.”

“No it won’t. Sian and I could sell up our town house in Poole or better still, rent out the apartment take out a mortgage on the equity in the whole house. There’s also room to split up our old apartment and create two apartments. We could keep one for any of us to use if we’re late in town overnight and we could rent the other one. I still need the shop under the flat as my office anyway. We could let one of the flats above the shop to two of the gay girls who work for me. They’re reliable girls and they would tear my arm off to live over the shop. It saves them travelling costs and they like the urban lifestyle. It’s a win — win situation all round.”

“My you have been thinking this through, haven’t you?”

“Ever since Martin came out, yes.”

“Came out!” I laughed. “Well I suppose it’s as good an expression for us trannies as it is for you gays.”

Margaret smiled and flung her arms around me to hug me.

“So what’s the next step?” I asked as I savoured her embrace.

Margaret had been the first known lesbian I had ever willingly allowed to embrace me such was the degree of trust she had engendered in the short time I had known her. She truly was a kind and loving woman.

“I’ll sort out the finances tomorrow,” she replied, “while you speak to the builders.”

“OK. Let’s keep it a secret from Sian and the girls though.”

“’The girls?” Queried Margaret.

“Sorry. I meant the children. It’s just that I’m already thinking of Martin as a girl. I’ll have to avoid that.”

“Well, if he’s happy with it and Sian’s happy, then I don’t see why we can’t include him amongst our ranks in ‘the monstrous regiment; at least up here in the cottage.”

“Yeah, but we’ll have to be careful. Mistakes in public could cause problems and what about school?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. It really depends upon Martin.”

“Well indeed it does!” I agreed. “But I don’t want to see him suffer or get hurt.”

Margaret became thoughtful.

“Where you that young when you started?”

“What, seven. No I was much younger. Seven’s about average. Most of us trannies reckon we became aware of stuff at about six to eight years old. As best I can remember I was about four or maybe five. That’s early; transvestism is almost one of my earliest memories.”

“Four? Really! It can’t be sexual at that age though can it?”

“Dunno’ that’s a hard one. I sometimes think I started a bit earlier than most because I’m quite close to being a transsexual. I sometimes think that people are not alert to children’s sexuality. On the other hand, I also liked the soft silky sensations. It was nice just to savour the soft silky embrace of my sister’s nightie as I slept. If soft and silky is synonymous with femininity then maybe that gives it a sexual dimension. As I got older however, there were definite sexual aspects. Can I be frank?”

“Ok. This isn’t too gross is it?”

“Well it is, a bit.”

“Margaret hesitated then agreed.

“OK. I think you’re too genteel to be gross, gross. Go on then, tell me.”

“I had my first orgasm in a pair of silky panties.”

Margaret smiled and giggled.

“Well so did I.”

I sat looking stupidly at her then burst out laughing. She smiled as she continued.

“Lots of us girls do, long before boys ever get into our panties.”

“Us girls,” I chuckled, “of course, us girls! Thanks Margaret that was a lovely compliment.”

As we chuckled and chatted about various ideas we eventually heard the splatter of rain hit the windows.

“Oh damn, it’s coming to rain look,” observed Margaret.

We stared out of the window, as the rain grew heavier until it was an absolute downpour.

“The girls! They’ll be soaking,” I said.

“We’d better build up the fire and they’ll want a hot shower.” Observed Margaret.

We set about preparing for five soaking arrivals and eventually we heard the clatter of hooves in the yard. Fortunately, they had taken their ‘bushman’ riding coats with them but the rain was so heavy that it had partially forced its way through the seams of their waxed bushman coats. Next they had to put the horses to bed before they could see to themselves and when they finally arrived at the cottage they were like drowned rats. However, they were all smiling and laughing so they had obviously enjoyed the experience despite the cold.

I reflected on how rewarding it always felt when any outdoor bad-weather task was finished and one could savour the final return to the warmth and shelter of a safe place. —Like Welsh Hill farmers returning off the snow swept hills to face a huge bowl of hot cowl and a blazing kitchen fire. - The children were laughing and playing as they splashed across the yard and made a game of the water pouring off their riding coats.
The water ran in rivulets over the flagstones in the back porch and I directed them to the utility room.

“Right! Get those soaking clothes off immediately and wrap these hot towels around you. Margaret is making some hot chocolate for you.”

With their outer coats and riding boots removed the four of them processed into the kitchen and started stripping off. I held out the huge warm towels that had been placed by the Aga and they each took one, as they emerged naked from their clothes. I noticed that Martin had been cross-dressed right down to a pair of Beatrice’s panties, but I said nothing and simply wrapped him in a towel just like the girls.
After I had hung assorted coats and other riding apparel to dry on the hanging ceiling racks and filled the washing machine with wet underwear, I joined the children in the drawing room. They were all cuddled up on the big settee, giggling (yet again) and cradling the mugs of chocolate in front of the roaring fire.
‘A blissful sight’ I thought as Margaret returned with yet more chocolate digestive and ‘hobnob biscuits.
Unlike Sian, Margaret was not a fanatical ‘outdoors’ type but she knew what made children happy. Soon they were squealing joyfully and chattering away with Margaret as I heard Sian finally arrive from the stables. I went to meet her.

“Everything OK?

“Fine. Just checking that the horses are properly stabled, they’re all dry and bedded.”

“Margaret is doing the same with the children. Did it go OK?”

“Oh heck yes. Even with the rain we had a fine old time. We met up with some other riders and trekked with them up over ‘The Dumplin’. They’re from some private school or something, over yonder.”

“Oh yes. That’s St Angie’s. It’s a girl’s school with day and boarders. I was planning for Jenny and Beatrice to go there when they’re older. Out on The Dumplin eh. It’s pretty exposed up there in this weather and I’ll bet that’s when the rain hit you.”

“Of course. When else? The wind blasted it straight into our faces. Absolutely howling it was.” She laughed.

The Dumplin was a small hill with lovely views over the Dorset coast. It was a popular spot in the summer. It’s exposure made it less visited in the winter months for the wind hit it square off the English Channel.

“Nobody else realised that Martin was wearing girl’s stuff did they?” I asked, “You know, the girls from the school.

“Oh gosh no. We had all put our coats on by then. The rain had started before we met the other party. Anyway, with the driving rain and splashed mud it was hard to identify anybody.”

I sagged with relief and Sian studied me concernedly before she admonished me softly.

“I’m not stupid Bev. He’s my little boy, you know.”

I sighed as I apologised to her.

“Sorry Sian, perhaps I’m being too paranoid.”

“Well no harm done, now any of that chocolate left? I’m perished.”

“I hope so; Margaret made a huge pot full.”

In the utility room Sian stripped nonchalantly down to her panties and bra. I had to turn away. She had a fabulous body and I was sorely tempted. As I discreetly stepped towards the kitchen she unthinkingly asked me to pass her the last big warm fluffy towel from the rail by the kitchen boiler. My hand trembled as I closed my eyes and held it out to her.

“What’s wrong with you?” She asked.

“I, - It, - It’s you Sian. It’s your ahem- body. I’m still a man don’t forget. I’m a tranny, I’m not gay!”

Her jaw fell open as she suddenly remembered.

“Oh hell, Bev! I’m sorry. I completely forgot. It’s just that you’re so -, so -, well -, like a girl -, or rather a lady.”

“Well thanks for the compliment but please don’t forget in future. You’re a very attractive girl! Now please, wrap this around you, while I go and get you a dressing gown.”

Sian grinned and wagged her head with amusement as she grabbed the proffered towel and quickly tucked it around her bust as she unfastened her bra and slipped out of her panties. She stood shivering by the kitchen Aga garnishing extra warmth until I returned with her dressing gown and a clean set of lingerie. She gave me a peck on the cheek by way of a thank you.

“I wish all men were like you Bev. We girls would be a lot safer.”

I gave a chuckle.

“What? She grinned inquisitively.

“Then there would be a fight for the nicest underwear every morning and a scrap for the bathroom, not to mention arguments about who was going to wear what.”

“And the makeup. Don’t forget the makeup.” Added Sian as she finally dried herself off.

We were still giggling as we joined the girls and Sian poured herself a mug of chocolate. The rain was still hammering at the windows, as it presaged the onset of winter.

“I think you’d better stay here tonight.” I suggested. “The rain becomes a torrent in these conditions and the ford at the bottom of the lane becomes dangerous except for four-by-fours. I haven’t had the lane or the ford tarmac’d yet and the mud is deep. I’ll have to wait until next summer when the stream virtually dries up.”

The children’s faces lit up at the prospect of another night together and a noticeable fricassee of pleasure also tingled through Margaret and Sian’s bones. I sensed the anticipation amongst them all so I went to make a meal. Margaret and Sian joined me in the kitchen while the girls squabbled and fought over a game of monopoly.

As I was peeling the vegetables, Margaret and Sian sidled up to me. Margaret spoke.

“So it’s true Bev, you really like girls then.”

“I thought you knew,” I replied.

“Well, we’ve never thought about it. The issue never arose” Answered Sian.

“Good. Then that’s that then. Here, start peeling the carrots.

I handed Sian the vegetable peeler as I rooted out some lamb cutlets from the freezer. I slammed them in the microwave to defrost them then started to lay the table. As I laid out the cutlery I caught Margaret and Sian studying me thoughtfully.

“What!” I demanded.

Margaret spoke softly.

“Can you -, you -, you know; still get it up?”

I looked at them with my arms akimbo as I wiped my face. A stray strand hair fell from my perm and I tugged it away from my eyes looking for the entire world like the harassed, over-worked, over-wrought housewife that I had become. I was beginning to suspect something sexual.

“Where’s this going?”

“I’m asking you -, can you still get it up? Do you still get erections?”

“Sshhhh! The children will hear you.”

Margaret and Sian exchanged smiles then Sian persisted.

“You didn’t answer the question.”

“Why should I? It’s got nothing to do with you!”

“Why d’you say that?”

“Well it hasn’t. My life is mine. Where I go and what I do as regards sex, is nothing to do with you!”

“Come off it Bev! When did you last get your bones jumped?”

I fell silent for I could hardly believe my ears. I asked myself if I was hearing this right. ‘Could these two actually be propositioning me?’

“It’s been a while, not that it’s anything to do with you.”

“And why’s that?” Demanded Margaret.

“Well it’s since Billy, Mac and I paid off the last ship if you must know; that’s before we won the Iran contract. I was captain of a small Singaporean coastal tanker trading betwixt Pattaya and Singapore. The girl was a hooker in Thailand and I grew fond of her but like seaman-hooker relationships, it broke up when the ship changed charters and stopped visiting. I’m not proud of it. I suppose it’s been nearly two years. Since then, what with the children and all; well, there hasn’t been an opportunity. I have to look after my girls.”

“So it’s been some time then?”

“Well -, actually -, yes. But what d’you want to know for?”

“Hmm. Haven’t you got it yet?” Asked Sian.

“Well -, I think I’ve -, I’ve got it but I don’t believe it.”

“Why?”

“Well you two are gay. One thing I’ve learned is that lesbian’s, especially lesbian couples don’t go with men and especially a man that looks like a harassed housewife. . I mean you hear it all the time, don’t you?”

“What’s that,” pressed Margaret.
“Oh, you know, the voyeurism thing, some dumb man propositioning a lesbian couple to let them watch, or even participate. It’s a pain and I quite understand why lesbians get sick of it. It invariably leads to trouble. Don’t forget, I’ve been around a few years.” I learned long ago that lesbian’s don’t mix with men!”

“But the question is Bev; are you a man?”

“Now there’s a question isn’t it.” I countered cautiously. I was not going to be drawn on this issue. “Do you think I’m a man?”

Margaret and Sian glanced at each other, smiled then looked again at me.

“You don’t look like a man. In fact under all that harassed housewife thing, you’re actually quite pretty. You could give any Hollywood fifty-year-old a run for her money.”

“Yeah. Well I work hard at that. So why would you two ever want to ‘jump my bones’, as you so succinctly put it?”

“Would you like it if we did?” Asked Margaret bluntly.

“Of course I would. I’m heterosexual and you’re both stunningly attractive. My cock head says yes! Yes! Yes!!! But my sensible head says ‘Beverly beware! Here be dragons!”

“That sounds awfully clinical.” Sulked Margaret.

“Well clinical is as clinical does. Let’s not talk about it now. I want to get the dinner finished. Anyway the whole idea is a joke. You’re lesbians and I know that you don’t like men. I think you’re trying to wind me up but if you want to talk further about it, I think it’s do it after the girls have gone to bed.”

“Girls!” Wondered Sian, “what girls?”

“Uuhm yes Sian,” interceded Margaret. “Bev and I thought it better to treat all four children as girls.”

“Well I suppose it makes sense. I prefer girls anyway,” observed Sian.

I gave her a wry, sardonic smile and just wagged my head with amusement.

“Well Martin has made it quite clear he prefers to be accepted as a little girl,” added Margaret.

“But what about school tomorrow?” Wondered Sian.

“He’ll have to be little boy for school times. Though I don’t think he’ll much like it.”

“Poor little sod!” I remarked softly as I had a brief flashback.

“Amen to that,” finished Margaret as I checked the lamb cutlets.

“Was it difficult for you? The school thing I mean.” Asked Sian.

“Yeah; and some!” I replied. “There wasn’t much school as you would think of school but Borstal was, - well; let’s not go there again. Tell the girls to wind up the monopoly game; dinner will be ready in a few minutes.”

“Hmmmm! That smells nice. You’re not a bad cook are you?”

“Needs must when the devil cracks his whip,” I grinned; “and I’ll bet you’ve worked up an appetite.”

Sian nodded vigorously. Soon we were gathered around the table and the chatter fell to horses and school. I noticed that Martin was rather quiet and I resolved to have a long chat with him before bedtime.
It was obvious he wasn’t happy about having to dress as a boy for school but unfortunately, there was no alternative for now. Indeed, I couldn’t see any alternative until Martin passed his sixteenth or even his eighteenth birthday. Childhood was not an easy road for my kind and Britain wasn’t Holland. It was the not knowing where or what we transvestites wanted to be on the scale of the sexual condition. Every one of us seemed to have a particular and often very private need. What was worse was that our needs seemed to change with age and mood, not to mention circumstance or opportunity. Yes, my heart went out to Martin. No wonder he as so introspective at dinner.

As we adults gathered the dishes, I intimated to Margaret and Sian that I thought Martin and I needed a little chat.

“Nothing too intrusive mind,” I told them, “Just a brief opportunity for Martin to lower his guard without feeling threatened and thus perhaps confide in someone he can trust; someone who’s walked the walk.”

To protect my self, I suggested that Sian listen at the keyhole whilst Margaret put the other girls to bed. I also slipped a small tape recorder between my breasts where the bulge would not show.
“I’ll speak to him on the settee by the door to the hall. That way you can actually listen from the hall through the keyhole and act as both sentinel and witness.” I suggested to Sian.

She nodded thoughtfully and we prepared the plan. We pushed the other settee a little closer to the hall door without it being too obvious then as Margaret herded the other girls up the stairs I gently tapped Martin on the shoulder.

“D’you want to chat about tomorrow in school?” I asked softly.

He hesitated then nodded as his gaze fell to the floor and his eyes moistened.

“Before we start,” I said, “I have to let you into a big secret.”

“What’s that?” He croaked curiously.

“Well I was once a little boy just like you are now; a little boy who used to like to wear frocks. So I do know just how you are feeling. D’you want to give me a hug while we chat about it?”

His eyes widened with complete surprise at my confession and he almost leapt onto my knee as I sensed his utter relief. The poor kid probably thought he was the only one like himself in the whole world. I had at his age. I opened up gently.

“Good, now you know that there are other boys like you, it doesn’t feel so bad does it?”

He nodded his head and cwtched up to me as he pressed his head against my breasts.

“So; what are you most frightened of?” I asked him softly.

“Will they be able to tell?” He croaked nervously through his dry throat.

“What? That you like being a girl?”

He nodded vigorously.

“Oh no. Don’t worry about that. It doesn’t show on the outside. Nobody can tell what you’re feeling unless you tell them.”

“What about my sisters? What if they tell?”

“Oh I think we can trust your sisters. Chenille’s known about this since the summer and she’s never told anybody. That’s why even your mummies didn’t know until this morning. Nobody can know unless they are told about it and Chenille has never told anybody, not even her friends in her class at school. Now Jenny and Bea know about me and they don’t tell other people. It’s private you see. So now you can let this be your big secret OK.”

“What about Jenny and Bea?”

“Oh don’t worry about them. They can keep secrets, they keep mine. Now you will need somebody to help you through this time until you’re a grown-up. I’ll be here for you. OK. Your mummies and your sisters never tell tales and they also know how to help you. Remember what Jenny said to you this morning? She said I wouldn’t be angry if you told me and they said I would explain to your mummies. They were right weren’t they? That’s because I’m exactly like you and your mummies know that. I can be your father confessor if you like.”

Martin nodded tearfully and buried his head against my breast as I stroked his head comfortingly. I knew from long experience that at this stage his cross-dressing needs were probably not sexual. He was too young for that. At his age they were just a mechanism that allowed him to express himself as he wanted.

“You see, I explained, Jenny and Bea know when to tell the truth and when not to say anything. It’s not lying; it’s just keeping important things a secret so as not to hurt people.”

“So nobody will know if I’m a girl sometimes?”

“Do you want to be a girl?” I asked.

Martin fell silent as he considered the question. I could see the confusion rising in his mind so I sidestepped any need for an answer.

“Well let’s not worry about that for now. Let’s just keep it a secret until you decide, OK?”

“The boys at school would make fun of me if I did want to be a girl.” He added pensively.

“Yes,” I agreed, “they probably would. Sometime boys can be very stupid and very cruel so let’s keep it a secret for now, OK?”

He freed himself from my embrace and looked directly into my eyes then smiled bravely.

“Ok then. I’ll be a girl at home and a boy in school.”

“OK.” I replied, keeping my answer simple to avoid any further complications. That was exactly the scenario his mothers wanted for him. Perhaps I had been a bit manipulative but it seemed to all us adults that this was really the only practical way to go.

We carried on chatting softly as he pumped me with question after question. I answered honestly, and sometimes told him I would not answer certain questions because I considered them private. . The questions he put indicated that he considered me a woman.

I had to explain to him that even though I was the same as him; he could not look ‘down there’ because that was private stuff that only adults did. If I had allowed it, it might have put my own lifestyle in jeopardy not to mention Jenny and Bea’s. Eventually he had satisfied his fears and curiosities and he settled to snuggle up to me on the settee. I stroked his head to reassure him as I pointed out the time.

“I think your sisters will be wondering where you are. Time for bed don’t you think?”

Thus reassured, he slipped off the settee and made his way to bed. I bid him ‘Goodnight’ loudly to alert Sian listening at the door. When he entered the hall, he found her apparently making her way to the kitchen to prepare yet more chocolate drinks. Once Martin had gone upstairs to join Margaret and the girls I discussed things with Sian while the kettle boiled.

“What d’you think?” She asked uncertainly.

“Well he appears to be following the classic development of a transvestite.”

“Like you,” replied Sian.

“Well, - yes. Like me, if you want to think of it that way but I can’t say yet if he’s heterosexual or gay or anything else.”

“Are there other ways beside hetero and gay?” Asked Sian.

“Oh yes. Oh most certainly. There’s other different ways. Anyway, I’ve got it all on tape here. I suggest you let Sandie listen to it and she can make of it what she will.”

I handed her the little tape and poured the chocolate out into seven mugs.
“Shall I take theirs up, or will you?” I asked.

“Let me. The more often Martin gets used to me seeing him dressed in a nightie, the easier it will be for all of us.”

“Yes. That’s probably true love. Go on, he’ll be ready for bed by now. Go and give him the same ‘mother — daughter’ kisses you give the other girls.”

Sian smiled gratefully and picked her way upstairs with the tray full of their drinks and the biscuits. I retreated to the drawing room with my own mug and tried to watch the television. It was useless; my mind was elsewhere as I racked my brains to find a solution for Martin.

The truth was that I probably knew the solution. Martin wanted to dress as a girl and live as a girl, the problem was that medical convention and social mores would be flouted.

I could hear the accusations ringing in my ears.

‘He’s too young to understand!’

‘His family background has caused it!’

‘Just look at his so called parents!’

‘He needs a proper father figure.’

‘It’s too early to start hormones!’

‘Oh yes,’ I thought angrily, ‘it’s always too early to start hormones.’

‘The child doesn’t understand! What if he changes his mind?’

On and on and on the arguments would rage because the truth was, doctors could only try to look into a transvestite’s mind from the outside, and even then their so called psychiatric skill was a pretty opaque window. Only we transvestites could look ‘out’ as well as ‘in’, to garnish both the necessary perspectives!’

“Oh yes,” I mumbled softly to myself. “With Martin’s family structure and background, the social workers and psychiatrists would have feeding frenzy in the family courts.”

From what Martin had told me, it seemed we had a lot in common. I knew I had always wanted to live as a woman but look what had happened to my own life. The less said about my adolescence the better, whilst for most of my adult life nothing could be further from a womanly existence than thirty odd years of seafaring. Thirty wasted years as far as my personal contentment was concerned. I would need to have a long chat with Sandie to get her to understand and then keep her on board.

Finally Margaret and Sian came down after reading the girls a story. We chatted at length about what was best for the boy then we prepared a list of questions for Sandie I already knew the answer to most of the questions but it would be politic to keep Sandie on our side.
If she was able to have a constructive input into Marin’s well being, she would probably side with the boy’s needs and wants if things ever got litigious.

After we had exhausted all ideas and altered the list several times, I yawned and declared myself ready for bed.

“OK darling, you go up. Margaret and I want to chat a bit longer.”

”OK. See you in the morning.” I sighed. “Good night.”

Soon I was showered and dressed in my favourite silky night attire and luxuriating between my satin sheets. I contemplated reading another chapter of my book but then decided on more agreeable activities.

I was gently pleasuring myself when I heard the soft click of my bedroom door. I left it unlocked now in case the girls wanted to garnish some comfort in the night, - bad dreams or thunder, whatever. I hesitated and tried to make out who was entering but the storm clouds made the night utterly black and the wind drowned any footfall.

I was always alert to a possible burglary or worse, a homophobic attack. Transvestites have to be and this transvestite had long prepared for any eventuality. I slipped quickly out of the far side of my bed and reached for a short metal bar I kept down the side of my bedside table. My actions were relatively silent.
I knew the soft rustle of my silky nightie against my satin sheets sounded like nothing more than the ordinary movements of a sleeping person. The intruder would have little idea that I had vacated the bed. Being familiar with my own bedroom, it was obviously better for me to leave any lights off. I waited poised in the darkest corner of the room and listened as the floorboards creaked softly.

The creaks of the old cottage floorboards each had a distinctive note and gave me a good idea of where the intruder’s feet were. Then I heard two simultaneous different sounds and realised there were two intruders treading on two different floorboards.

The creaking of the floorboards stopped and I heard hands rustling upon my satin bed sheets. Next came a very soft whisper.

“She’s not here”

I sagged with relief. I knew that voice.

“Oh yes she is!” I whispered back. “What do you want?”

“Oh!” Came a startled reply. “Well, - you actually,” came back Sian’s disembodied giggle.

I slid back onto the bed, still holding my metal bar as I pulled the duvet over me. Knowing fingers groped gently until one hand fetched up against the metal bar.

“Ooooh. Somebody’s pleased we’ve come!” Giggled Margaret.

I tugged the bar from her grasp and pushed it under the pillows as the mattress sagged with the extra weight.
“Aaahh. And I was hoping that was your friend.” Sighed Margaret.
I still found it hard to believe what was happening. Yes, I knew the girls had joked about such things earlier but I thought that was exactly what it was, a joke.

“You stupid fools, I could have killed you.”

“Oh! You wouldn’t do that would you?”

“It’s a bloody good job you whispered to each other.”

I felt two bodies manoeuvring themselves either side of me then a delicate little hand slowly reached down to test my responses. Needless to say, I was already excited. My doctor had been very careful with balancing my hormone treatments, and I still had a fairly robust libido. Margaret gasped as her fingers fetched up against my stiff, silk encased organ.

“Ooooh! Someone is glad to see us!” Squeaked Margaret. “Feel this Sian! Sissy can’t get one of these anymore.”

Sian pressed up to my butt like two spoons in a drawer then reached over and joined Margaret’s fingers. She frotted her fingers against the slippery silk of my silky sleep suit then gently pressed her palm against the stiff lump under my control panties

“Mmmm! You’d better get that those off.”

I squirmed nervously, for I still suspected their motives. I’d seen too many transvestites hurt and betrayed by girls and many of these girls had been lesbians. Margaret and Sian’s actions left me suspicious.

‘Where they really interested in having sex with me, a shemale transvestite, or where they lining me up for some bizarre con trick. I tensed nervously as Margaret’s urgent fingers groped blindly at the laces and buttons of my peignoir, nightdress and sleep suite.

“Crikey Bev. Why d’you wear all this stuff?”

“I like silky. Ooo-ooh! Watch what you’re doing, they’re sensitive.”

Margaret’s fingers stopped momentarily as she fingered the stiff, turgid swellings of my excited nipples. Being a girl, she instantly recognised these feminine beacons signalling my arousal.

“Gosh. You are horny aren’t you? Hey Sian, cop a feel of these,” she giggled.”

“Gerroff!” I protested feebly as her knowing fingers brought me to even greater heights. My nipples felt as though they would burst and I squirmed futilely as my body took control and I started to gasp feverishly.

“Pleasse! Stoppit. You’re making me -, pleeasse! Stoppit!”

I squirmed and thrashed but it was no use. Sian was quite a strong girl and was just about my equal in strength. The hormones had long reduced what muscle mass I had ever had so I was now not able to resist Sian’s natural athleticism. This and my naturally small stature had turned me into a weak and feeble girl. Once I realised I could not overcome their combined efforts I submitted to their will.

I lay still as twenty fingers busied themselves at the ties and fastenings of my nightclothes then my nightclothes were gently peeled like the layers of an onion. At every opportunity, knowledgeable fingers probed and tested my soft ripe curves.

“Mmmm,” sighed Margaret as she gently cupped my generous globes and softly tongued my nipples, “your really are a girl up here aren’t you?”

I croaked gutturally as her machinations sent lustful waves of desire surging through my overloaded body. Then I felt Sian’s powerful fingers easing the waistband of my control panties down over my butt to leave me utterly naked and feeling vulnerable. I suppose I could have struggled but I was too confused. My body was screaming for pleasurable relief whilst my mind was still frightened of their undeclared intentions. The same question kept turning in my mind.

‘Can I trust them? Can I trust them, or was this yet another lesbian honey trap?

Eventually, I was stark naked under my duvet then I felt Margaret slip off her panties and the musky warmth of her body wafted like a vapour under the sheets.

“Shall I remove my suspenders and stockings?” She whispered provocatively.

“Is this for real?” I croaked as the tension gripped my voice.

“Of course it’s for real. What are you afraid of?”

I twisted my neck on the pillow to ask Sian.

“Are you OK with this? I don’t want to cause trouble between you; I don’t want to cause you to break up or anything. Think of Chenille and Martin.”

“Why. That’s nicest thing you could have said. It’s them we are thinking of.”

“What d’you mean?” I whispered as Margaret’s stocking clad silky smooth thighs softly enveloped my girlish hips.

“Ooh Sian!” Giggled Margaret, “she’s much softer and rounder than you.”

“Not everywhere, I’ll bet,” giggled Sian.

I felt the portals of Margaret’s warm damp sex just rest tantalisingly against the tip of my urgent hardness as she replied to Sian.

“Oh no darling. She’s nice and hard where it matters much better than Sissy.” Then she whispered to me, her voice hoarse with lust, - “Mmmm. Yes, you’re really up for it, aren’t you my pet?”

She leant forward to kiss me and her breasts brushed provocatively against mine. I gasped as our stiff responsive nipples grazed against each other. My sensuous twitch caused my rock hard sex to probe inquisitively into the outer portals of Margaret’s pussy and she squeaked with pleasure.

“Oh. That’s nice, that’s just right and you were so gentle darling.”

As she gentle gyrated her hips and settled further down my cock she turned again to Sian.

“You’ll just love this when it’s your turn; her body’s so girly and soft and gentle and obedient.”

“Like a well trained mare,” giggled Sian as she gently brought her fingers between Margaret and my nipples.

“Mmmm. This is no mare darling! This is one beautiful stallion with a beautiful hard cock. She’s got a lovely coat though, so soft and cuddly and warm. It’s not rough and hairy at all. This is one stallion I will always like to ride.”

“She’ll make a good stud then?” Replied Sian.

“Oh yes. I’ll bet she’ll sire some beautiful foals.”

“Stoppit! You’re making me jealous,” said Sian.

I suddenly realised what Margaret and Sian were up to. They were getting themselves pregnant!

I wasn’t sure whether to be angry or happy. The idea of becoming a father excited me and intrigued me yet I was still frightened. What if my children rejected me if or when they found out that their father was a transvestite?

At that moment, I was too far-gone to speak. My body was starting to respond as any heterosexual male would when a beautiful woman was eagerly riding his cock. I could feel my orgasm starting to boil in my loins and I gave a little squeak to warn Margaret. She sensed the tension and gripped me firmly with her soft slender thighs as we ascended into that mutual nirvarna so eagerly aspired to by every loving couple.

Finally we exploded feverishly as our needs overwhelmed us and I felt my cock fetch up against Margaret’s cervix. She let out a squeal of surprise but continued urgently pounding her hips as she greedily devoured my seed.

Strangely her needs mirrored mine as we settled in a mutual embrace feeling our hearts thundering together causing our breasts to vibrate like jelly moulds. Even as we squeezed together, I could feel our stiff turgid nipples ‘fencing’ erotically as our orgasms rolled like thunder through our bodies. Then slowly, our needs subsided until we slumped, locked in an embrace and gasping for air.

For long seconds we lay recovering until Margaret relaxed her leg lock around my hips and we gently squirmed to lie facing each other with our legs entwined and yet still conjoined. Margaret sighed and crushed her lips against mine before mumbling.

“Mmmm! Where did you learn to make it last like that?”

“You’ve been conjoined for over twenty minutes,” giggled Sian.

“Who was counting then?” I demanded in a hoarse whisper.

“Me of course,” replied Sian, “you two were too busy.”

I had no answer for this but I had to wonder. My orgasm had definitely felt somehow different. The climax somehow seemed less violent and short but it had somehow reached the same intensity over a longer gentler peak.
As Margaret gently humped her pubis against mine, I realised what had happened. My hormones had feminised my orgasms. I now orgasmed like a girl. The waves of pleasure had rolled through my body in progressively larger cycles until my climax had reached its conclusion.
Even my ejaculations had been longer slower pulses of intense delight instead of the explosive, short-lived spurts of my masculine youth.

My orgasm now more resembled a woman’s than a man’s and this had caused me to climax in much closer synchronisation with my lover. I smiled to myself as I realised the import of this development. I had become a lesbian’s shemale dream. I felt Sian’s inquisitive fingers investigating our union and twitched when she finally inveigled her hand between Margaret and I.

“What about my turn,” begged Sian?

“Let me recover darling. I’m not all woman yet. I’m not sure about multiple orgasms. It still takes me a bit of time to recharge.”

“Mmm. That’s a pity. Be quick then.”

Margaret giggled at Sian’s impatience.

“Don’t you worry lover. Once this little she-male’s given you a seeing to like I’ve just had, you’ll be well sorted.”

“Well move over then sister,” urged Sian.

Margaret and I gently untangled our embrace and slipped into the bathroom for a brief clean up before rejoining Sian in the bed. As we washed, Margaret smiled.

“You haven’t had it away for some time have you. I can tell. I feel really full in there.”

“Well if you want a baby love, don’t lose any.”

“Oh don’t worry lover-girl, Sian and I are right at our fertile period. We’re in total synch because of our intimacy.”

I knew about the strange phenomenon where women living in close company often harmonised their female cycles and I smiled knowingly.

“So you both want babies by me. Why didn’t you just go down the ‘turkey-baster’ route, like you did with Sissy?

“You’re prettier than Sissy -, more feminine and girly. More importantly, that ‘turkey baster’ between your legs is much more reliable, and it’s nicer to use. Sian and I are quite turned on by you, you girly boy!”

“Mmmm. Thanks for the compliment.”

I kissed her and we stepped out of the shower to dry ourselves. Next was the gauntlet from the bathroom to the bed. I was naked and feeling cold as I dashed to the bed.

“Brrr!” I squeaked. “I hope you’ve kept the bed warm, it’s cold without my night clothes.”

“Jump in,” encouraged Sian, “there’s always a warm spot for a pretty girl.”

She patted the mattress beside her and I accepted her invitation. I didn’t rush into it though. One thing my femininity had taught me was not to go at things like a bull at a gate. I slithered onto the satin sheets and gently reached out to touch her as Margaret slid onto the bed behind me and we all three gently snuggled up under the duvet. Sian however was having no prevarication, her libido had been tantalised during my and Margaret’s earlier fun and now Sian wanted her rightful servings.

“Come here you delectable creature!” She giggled as her hands wrapped around my waist. She pulled me tight against her then groped eagerly for my already stiffening cock. I squeaked nervously.

“Gently darling, gently,” I protested, (though not very strongly,) “you could hurt a girly boy if you grab her like that.”

Margaret giggled for she had quickly determined Sian’s actions. She did exactly as Sian had done earlier and spooned up tight to my butt as her fingers ascertained what Sian had already concluded. I was horny again!

“Mmmm. Some girl!” Chuckled Sian as her fingers tested my hardness to ensure I was obviously ready. Once again, my body had betrayed me. A real girl could always hide her real feelings and make a pretence of reluctance or modesty. For a naked shemale however, there was no hope of hiding her body’s feelings. Sian was having none of my supposed protests and she urgently engulfed my cock with her greedy maw.

“Mmmm! Oooh yyyessss!” She sighed as her hips started pumping eagerly. “Now this is how it should be.” She growled.

I had little doubt what she meant by these words. For it was obvious that whatever Sian’s emotional and sexual perspectives might have been, this peculiarly heterosexual union was definitely satiating her physical needs.

As she humped eagerly away I wondered how she reconciled her declared lesbianism with this very heterosexual relationship. As she bounced on top of me just as Margaret had done, I asked curiously, and also a bit stupidly.

“Is this nice for you like this?”

“Of course it is you silly girl!” She gasped,” now shut up and hump!”

Obediently, I followed her orders and gently started ‘humping’ to Sian’s rhythms.

“That’s it girl! Just like that, niccee and slooowww and gentle!”

I found myself savouring Sian’s domination and felt fulfilled that my obedience could please her. The sense of total surrender overtook me and my eyelids became heavy with passion as Sian’s needs overtook her. Fortunately, Sian was as considerate of me as she was of the horses in her care. She did not hit or bruise me, or dig her nails in me or bite me in some fit of passion; in fact, I was pleasantly surprised. Despite her powerful athleticism, Sian was a very gentle lover. Because the mechanics of our union were reversed I felt just like a tender and nervous virgin girl being taken by a really powerful though protective and considerate lover. I had never felt so ‘complete’.

As Sian slowly climaxed, I found myself responding to her needs and strangely my seed seemed to be sucked from me even though I was definitely ejaculating. Then she collapsed onto me and I gasped from her weight.

“Oooff!”

“Oh I’m sorry darling!”

She re-adjusted her position but retained my inquisitive cock inside her by some sort of inexplicable suction. This inevitable kept me hard for my libido now had a female durability. Just as my orgasms now followed the long slow female sine wave, so was my libido similarly extended. Sian sighed contentedly as we lay face to face with our heads on the same pillow and our tits meshing sensitively whilst our loins stayed ‘hooked’ together.

Behind me I felt Margaret gently spooning against me as her knowing fingers joined Sian’s in caressing my soft girly curves.

I was in heaven and so were Margaret and Sian.

.