If I pretend I'm your best girlfriend...

Copyright 1999,2000 by Vickie Tern

If reading this story offends you or the law, do what I do, don't.

Choices

by Vickie Tern

I was so miserable I felt like crying. A single sob escaped, but I
stifled it, couldn't allow it. I was terribly worried yet there was
nothing to do but wait. There never was. Sit in the living room, turn
on the tube, turn pages in some magazine, wait. Ignore all sorts of
hysterical fears. Finally realize I'd been dozing in my chair, and
wake to hear her key scratching in the lock. This time it was nearly
three a.m.

Her meetings rarely lasted this long. Usually they began and ended
early and she was home by midnight. This time there were still gleams
of daylight in the sky when she'd given me her usual quick light kiss
on the cheek and her usual "G'bye for now honey. No, you're sweet but
don't muss me. And please, this time don't wait up. I'm not sure
when, but you know, I'll be home when I'm home!" True enough. But
once past midnight I couldn't help worrying.

She stood in the hallway a moment, her topcoat hooked over her shoulder
with one finger, saw me sitting and looking at her, glanced wistfully up
the stairs toward our bedroom, then reluctantly came in to join me.
She looked tired, yet in some obscure way satisfied. Her dress wasn't
much wrinkled this time but her hair was mostly undone, coils and
strands hastily pushed back up off her face. Obviously she'd rather we
talked in the morning, but she saw the mingled anxiety and relief in my
face and she took pity.

"You're still up, honey? Aw, that's sweet. You poor baby, you were
worried about me! I've told you not to worry. I've told you over and
over that I'm perfectly safe, always in good hands. We all look out
for each other, and Chuck always takes special care of me. I think he
feels something for me, poor man. But you see, there's no reason to
feel fretful!"

An odd smile had flickered across her face, the same one every time his
name comes up. I'd never met Chuck. I'd seen him only once when her
car wouldn't start and he came to our house to fetch her. She'd rushed
out and then hopped into his car so quickly I caught only a glimpse.
It wasn't reassuring. Wide shoulders, square-jawed, an easy grin.
Once she was seated alongside he'd turned to kiss her with such
possessive self-assurance that my stomach clutched. I couldn't tell
for sure, but I could imagine that she kissed him back ferociously, her
arms pulling his face into hers, her make-up hopelessly mussed even
before they'd driven away. Long after they were gone I stood by the
window still seeing it, trembling.

She continued. "Really, you dear man, there was nothing tonight to
concern you. You shouldn't torture yourself. We dance, we talk, we
enjoy each other's company. Now and then we pair off, but even then no
one's ever left alone. I've told you that so often! Really, honey,
you should just go to bed at your usual time on these nights when the
Club meets. I always come home safe." She raised her eyebrows and
smiled resssuringly. "Tired, I'll admit, but safe."

I knew she'd say that. But this time I had to speak my piece
regardless. I'd been rehearsing it for hours.

"Well, I'm sorry, Claire, I really am. I try, but I can't help it. I'm
always anxious for you when you go out like this. I wish I weren't.
You can understand it. I'm concerned for, well, lots of reasons. I
don't know any of these people, the ones you see there. People change,
I'm sure the membership changes. I don't know if you're with the same
people from week to week, apart from maybe this Chuck and some others
you mention now and then. If anyone decided to get mean and play rough
when you were alone with him, I mean, how would anyone know? How
would I know? And what if your car broke down driving home through a
bad part of town. This is the latest you've come home for a long
time."

Her face didn't change. There was nothing in my speech she hadn't
expected me to say. I was dithering because as we both knew I couldn't
bring myself to name my real fears. She was out having fun and I was
wasn't, and I was jealous of everyone she was with. Moreover, I was
afraid that one day she'd enjoy herself so much she'd see no reason to
return to me.

"Billy, I came home late because I was having a good time. You should
feel happy for me!" She knew that statement was no consolation, more a
riposte.

Then she began deciding where she'd sit down. Not the couch, that was a
commitment to talk, and she wanted to get to bed soon. Yet we had to
talk. I had to, even though she'd given up hope that anything would
ever come of it. An uncomfortable straight-backed chair facing me,
maybe. "You're right of course," she said absently. "It's like any
social club, there are always new people, and some come back and become
old people and others drop out and disappear. We're never the same mix
twice, different folks and strokes. That's what makes each session so
exciting for me. The regulars know each other, and the newcomers add
an element of unpredictablity. We anticipate known quirks and needs
and sometimes we're surprised to discover new ones. We enjoy them. We
enjoy each other."

She paused, weary. Nothing new there either. She knew what I really
needed was assurance that no matter what, I was still special to her,
that she still wanted me. "Now there are even couples," she
volunteered hopefully. "A few. I don't mean people like me and Chuck,
people who spend time with each other no matter who else also, or no
matter what else they're into. I mean, some guys bring girlfriends.
There are even husbands now. A few."

There it was. She paused again, then reconciled herself to it and sat
down in the straight back chair. From the way she slithered down I
could tell she was leaking, that she was a little concerned for her
dress. Plainly she'd rather be in the shower right now and then in bed.
But the old topic had come up again, and Claire was never one to avoid
tough issues. She had to put blame where blame was due.

"Billy baby, this is your same old jealous resentment speaking, isn't
it? Well, I've told you repeatedly that you can come with me any time
you want. That you'll always be more than welcome. Even if you only
come once just to see what it's like and then never come again. I know
that if you're properly prepared for it you'll love it! But you don't
want to, you never want to."

She looked directly at me to drill the point home. "Well, that's your
choice. You pay your own piper and you call your own tunes. You'd
rather sit here and agonize over whatever you imagine I'm doing there,
and never just go and find out for yourself. I still don't know why,
really. The offer's still open."

We'd started in again. "Well, no, Claire," I said gently but
pointedly. If we were going to remind ourselves of some of it, we
should remind ourselves of all of it. "It isn't exactly my choice.
You set conditions. I can't meet those conditions. I can't agree to
the terms you stipulate."

"You mean that if you come, it has to be as my roommate, not my
husband?"

"Yes. Sort of."

She took a deep breath, trying to maintain patience but starting to lose
it. "What's wrong with that? I've told you the reasons, over and over!
No one in the Club wants to meet my husband. Any husband! For one
thing, if they've ... ahhh ...spent some time with the wife it makes
them uncomfortable. We all have our little secrets and kinks, special
intimacies husbands shouldn't know about."

True enough, I thought morosely. Claire had let slip one morning her
exultation that she'd worn down eleven men in a single night in some
contest they'd held. It depressed me. As only one man my chances with
her seemed all the more hopeless, whatever the game.

"But mainly, no man wants to risk tangling with a husband. Whether a
husband's possessive or generous or just plain indifferent, there's
always something at stake for them. They get contentious for no
reason. Well, life's too short for hassles, and there are always
plenty of unencumbered women available. So everyone figures, who needs
it? Believe me, the high schools and colleges and the divorce mills
keep cranking out all the singles anyone would ever hope to meet!"

"And Billy, just think about it! How can I possibly play romantic games
with some beautiful man I may have just met when my husband's moping
around in the background watching? How can the man? How can I dance
with someone long enough and close enough to know whether he's got what
I want deep inside me later on, if my hubby's watching and worrying and
maybe disapproving? And what if I'm dancing amorously with a woman,
and my husband doesn't know anything at all about that part of me? No,
husbands as husbands are definitely out! Brothers are out too, the way
they confuse family honor with chastity. And live-in boyfriends can be
worse than either of them! "

"But roommates? You know! They enjoy seeing each other start little
adventures, and they love to talk about them endlessly afterward.
Roommates are fun! I gave you a choice which kind of roommate you'd
like to be, and you chose not to be either kind. So again, if you
choose to stay home and be jealous and resentful and anxious and
worried and miserable, don't blame me for that!"

That wasn't the point, and Claire knew it! I felt a little irritated,
and it must have been in my voice when I answered her. "Claire, it's
never that I object to pretending I'm your roommate! It's what kind of
roommate! You insist a decent girl can have only two kinds of
roommates, an obviously gay male or a girlfriend! If I came with you
I'd have to be one or the other. No way your husband so no way a
threat to the others."

"Some choice! If I decide to be gay, then everyone understands that I'm
a man you share your apartment and your secrets with but never your
body. I'm your dear friend and confidante. Someone with no designs on
you who's always urging you to go off and have a good time with any guy
hung heavy enough to interest you."

"So? That's what I do anyhow. You'd get a greater feeling of
involvement if you gave it your blessing. Why don't you?"

I ignored her. "Or if I pretend I'm your best girlfriend, the girl you
live with, everyone would assume we lend each other clothes and advice
and that we share all our girlish concerns and desires with each other.
And again, they'd think I'm always happy for you when you go off to get
laid. And again, that you tell me all about it afterward!"

"Well, don't I? Mostly? I don't like to keep secrets from you, honey.
We're married, after all!"

"Yes, but most of the time I don't want to know those kinds of secrets,
Claire, they make me uncomfortable. You're right, even jealous, in a
way. Or maybe envious. I mean, for example, with this guy Chuck, I
have the impression that you're more intimate with him, you do more
different things with him during any one Club meeting than you've ever
done with me in the whole of our marriage. And I haven't even met
him!"

"So? What bothers you more, that he has more access to me or that you
haven't met? It's true. I'll take that beautiful prick of his into any
one of my openings any time he wants. Mouth, pussy, or ass. I love
it! God knows I'd want him in all three openings at once all the time
if he could manage it. And it's true you've only been in my pussy and
no where else. Because that's where I want you, where I feel you
belong when you're inside me. It feels right, and the other places
feel ... improper, somehow! Wrong! That's what sanctifies marriage,
Bill, proper sex in proper places!"

"But Bill, if that's your idea of 'intimacy,' the fucking and sucking I
do with Chuck, I must beg to differ. No, with Chuck I never feel
intimate. I feel stuffed, crammed as full of his goodies as a
Christmas goose. Or sometimes the other way, he leads me into
something so pure, so spiritual, so out-of- body that my whole being
becomes one grand throbbing orgasm pulsing in a cosmic universe
surrounding his cock, until I've just about lost my mind. But
intimate? No, sweetheart, *we're* intimate, you and me! We have
feelings for each other that go way back and way deeper, far deeper than
my admiration and gratitude to Chuck because he has such a great cock
and he gives me such great sex."

She sniffed, and tossed her head self-righteously. "In fact, Bill, you
shouldn't feel jealous of him, you should feel grateful! He's the one
after all who persuaded me that it wasn't right, my not allowing you to
kiss my pussy now and then as a special treat.

"Claire, that 'special treat' as you call it always seems to be whenever
your pussy and your asshole are so stretched out and raw, with cum
pouring so heavily out of your crack and down your thighs, that you can
barely walk into the house. That's when you seem to want to feel my
tongue slurping and soothing you!"

She smiled at me smugly. "Well, that's when I need you most,
sweetheart! Especially when he's come in my ass over and over and it's
leaking heavily, and I can't douche it out easily and a tampon stuffed
into it feels uncomfortable. When the accumulated goop in there needs
to be sucked out gently. And when my ass cheeks are chafed from all
that rubbing and thrusting. That's when your sweet mouth and tongue
feel so very welcome, lover! So soothing and comforting! There's no
one I love more than you when you're down there between my legs,
licking out my rosebud and my pussy and cleaning all that sticky stuff
off my bottom. Isn't it true? You know how sensitive I am when we're
like that and your tongue touches my clit. Sometimes I come almost as
often on your mouth as I do on Chuck's prick when he's first working it
into me and it won't quite fit."

I couldn't say anything. For years I'd wanted to have oral sex with
Claire, and only after Chuck told her had she let me. And only after
she'd been with him. It was as if she were awarding me his leftovers
in exchange for my mopping up after the two of them.

Well, I'd run out of arguments. I had to open up to her honestly. So
finally I just said, "Claire, please! I'm so lonely when you're gone!
And so frightened each time that you won't come back! And yes, I do
feel jealous that you do things with him you don't do with me! And
with the others. I can't help it!" My voice quavered. I felt so
vulnerable!

In response, Claire's voice held as steady as her gaze, unmoved. "I've
invited you to come with me and join in with us and make yourself
welcome, and do all kinds of things with us. Just agree you'll come
not as my husband but as a gay guy or a girl. Of course Chuck would
know that you're really my husband. But if you were really sincere
he'd know that you don't intend to act like a husband in any way during
the evening, and that would be good enough. The others wouldn't know
anything."

"I don't know why I can't be introduced as your husband. If that's what
I am, and that's what he knows I am, why not?" Something in me just
wouldn't quit.

"Oh dear," she said to the air, rolling up her eyes. Then she mustered
enough energy to look directly at me and to speak slowly, deliberately,
with some force. "Because that isn't how he or anyone else wants to
know you. I've already told you! He wants to meet you either as the
gay friend who lives with me or as my live-in girlfriend. As no
competition whatever! Because he wants to know right away where he
stands with you. That you aren't jealous or resentful. Especially of
his prick. That he isn't making you feel bad about your own endowment.
Oh yes, he knows all about your endowment!"

That was shocking! I was horrified! "You told him about me?" My voice
shrank back into the rest of me. I'm not bad as prick sizes go, low
average maybe, maybe a little lower than that. When I first met Claire
she'd called it "unimpressive," but she didn't laugh, and I'd been so
worried she'd think it ridiculous I took that as a compliment. I've
always felt ashamed of its size. Teenage kids see to that. They know
nothing about how to use the things, so they make a big deal out of
size, that's what they can measure. Mine never measured up.

"Sweetheart, yes, of course I told him! I've told everyone! When I was
first initiated into the Club they all wanted to know why I wanted to
join, and I had to tell them. Your cock size was one of the big
reasons. No, let's call it one of the main reasons. That night after
they'd accepted me the big reasons for my wanting to join pushed
themselves into me one after another and kept coming in me and at me
until by morning I was stretched out and drenched and gooey and
everyone else was exhausted, but for once I was satisfied!" She
smiled, amused by a stray thought. "I could have gone on for another
few hours," she added. "A lot of men have since found that out."

"Just what did you tell Chuck about me?"

"Nothing to discourage him from voting you into the Club, if I could
ever finally entice you to join. He likes the idea of you becoming a
member. That's a plus as far as he's concerned. Of course your small
cock does raise problems with our women members. They'd have no use
for it. So when I talk to them about you I have to accentuate the
positive.

"What's that?"

"That your secret fantasy really is in fact to be either gay or a girl.
That you'd be more a woman member than a man member. A lesbian with the
women and a slut with the men. That above all you'd love to feel a
really big cock inside you, your legs wrapped around a masterful
cocksman. That you'd love it almost as much as I do."

"Oh God, Claire! You told people that?"

"The women understood that and sympathized immediately! But more
important, that's why Chuck is now persuaded that the husband in you
won't interfere with us. That given the prospect of getting really
royally fucked yourself for the first time in your life, you won't
allow yourself to play husband!"

"So that's why you told me that if I attend any of your meetings it has
to be as either a queer or a queen? To make good on your claim that I
want to be one or the other?"

"No, honey." She was beginning to sound really weary now. "The other
way around. That's the condition the Club's rules set for admitting any
husbands. No spouses as spouses! Period! End of discussion! A spouse
has to behave like a queer or a queen, as you so delicately put it. And
do it convincingly! Do I have to spell it out for you again? I've
already told you, and I've already told you why -- please don't make me
repeat myself. I also told everyone that given your low-voltage cock,
you'd probably get more pleasure out of being a queer or a queen than
you do from being a man. I think that's true!"

She paused, then looked at me so very sadly. "Oh, honey, I do wish you
would! I don't like having this life apart from yours any more than you
do!" she said. Then she said nothing. She seemed on the edge of
tears. Tears of sorrow and sympathy and frustration, because I was
miserable and yet I was unwilling to help myself.

I had to offer her at least some small encouragement. To seem
interested. So I said, "You said there were a few husbands attending
your meetings now. Do they meet the Club's conditions?"

Claire was silent. Then, "Yes. Maybe not originally, but they do now.
If you were to attend one of our meetings, you'd see a few gay men
flouncing about. Some are for real and some are pretending, or think
they're pretending, but all of them offer to suck cock. And all seem
to be delighted when a man wants to pump their assholes, or a woman
approaches them with a dildo. Yes. Does that answer your question?"

"Is that what Chuck would expect from me when he meets me?"

"Of course, sweetheart! He very much wants to get to know you first of
all as someone sucking on his cock, whether as a grateful faggot or a
cock- hungry girl doesn't matter to him. He doesn't care which as long
as there's devotion and respect in the way you bring him off."

She repeated her plea. "Please, honey! You'd get to love it. We'll
all see that you really and truly get to love it. I promise you!"

I retreated and threw up a defensive shield. I resented being made out
to be the one at fault here, and the hour was late, and I felt bitter.
So I let fly! "Your Chuck isn't satisfied that he's taken my wife from
me? He also wants to turn me into a cocksucker and take my self-
respect as well?"

A big mistake! It was as if I'd slapped Claire's face. She winced,
then stood up suddenly, angry! Then sat down again, and couldn't
suppress her scorn.

"Oh don't be ridiculous!! You can be such a pompous fool, Bill! Self-
respect? It's simply that you're no use to either of us as a man, so
you'll need to cultivate other talents. Your little thing is, well,
I've said it, you've said it yourself, 'unimpressive'. I told you that
before we were married, when you first agreed to let me make up for it
with other men whenever I was feeling really needy. Remember, that's
why we took the phrase 'forsaking all others' out of my marriage vows?
So I could remain faithful to my vows and to our marriage despite your
deficiencies? I'd hoped at the time that you'd join me now and then,
at least to the best of your ability, and that was why we took that
phrase out of your vows too! Remember? But you never did join me!
You were faithful to me! That's yet another way you've been a
disappointment to me, Bill."

She recovered herself somewhat. "Not that I don't love you to
distraction anyhow!" she said more earnestly. "I do love you, my
darling, darling husband! Just cuddling with you is for me so much
more erotic than getting it on with Chuck or with any of the other
regulars these days. Most of the time I can't feel you when we fuck
anyhow. You're too meagre. But I can always feel your arms, and when
you're down on me I can feel your mouth. And your mouth is wonderful!"

She took a deep breath and tried to speak calmly, her love for me almost
balancing off the resentment still lingering in her voice. But not
quite. I braced myself.

"How can you speak of self-respect? Already whenever I come home from
a meeting you can't wait to bow down low before me and bury your face in
my crotch and swallow down a bellyfull of Chuck's cum, your rival for
my affections, a man who can outfuck you in his sleep! And if I've
felt a little wild that night who knows how many other men's cum is
mixed in, and you're eager to suck it all even out of my asshole!
Chuck arranged for you to do this when he heard you wanted it, and you
accepted his gift. Where's there an issue of self respect there? You
should thank him humbly! You should feel flattered that now Chuck is
willing to let you suck him off directly, to let you swallow cum
spurting fresh from his cock instead of dribbling hours later out of my
cunt. That's if you're able to bring him off at all! If you're man
enough, or girl enough! It's only for my sake, really, that he's
willing to let you try. Because of his respect for me, because he knows
that I love you and want you to enjoy my pleasures."

Now that she was on the attack she warmed to it. "Self-respect! You'll
really learn to respect yourself the first time you get that huge thing
of his in front of your eyes and you start to lick it, and then finally
manage to figure out how to wrap your mouth around it! If you can!
That'll be an accomplishment to make you proud! And you'll really
learn self-respect when you've learned how to open your ass wide enough
to take him in, his whole thickness and his enormous length, and when
you learn how to pump him until he fills up your guts! And all through
the next day, to love the thought that your innards are still coated
with his cum, that you've earned that reward. To smile each time you
realize it!"

"You see, Billy dear, it isn't easy to give Chuck a blow job or a fuck.
Believe me, I know. I'll be awestruck with admiration if I ever see you
manage it. And you'll have to offer him your mouth and throat and also
your ass the first time you're allowed into our meetings. Or who'll
ever believe that you're really queer or a girl, whichever you mean to
be. And when you've done it, Billy my love, that's what you will be,
No pretending, no fraud then. When Chuck's inside you you're the real
thing!"

Then she struck hard.

"Billy, I've done a lot of thinking about us lately. I really don't
know that you've got enough genuine self-respect to quit feeling sorry
for yourself and instead attend a meeting with me. I don't think
you've got the guts. I don't think you've got enough courage to follow
out the consequences of everything I've said to you tonight and
everything I've done without you since we first got married. It should
be obvious by now. You're a man with a bird-sized pecker and a loving
wife you'll never be able to satisfy. I'm offering you a way to be
happy and to make her happy too. To become truly married to each
other, and to completely satisfy each other's desires. Are you willing
to commit yourself?"

"Or do you really prefer sitting up late waiting for me to come home,
imagining me doing who knows what with who knows who and wringing your
hands in grief because I'm enjoying myself and you're not. All the
while worrying that some day I might not come home at all. Billy, some
day I might not! I still love you, but my love doesn't seem to prevail
here! For the first time, I've begun to wonder whether maybe I should
leave you. For both our sakes! I can no longer see clearly that we
have a future together."

Having uttered those terrible words, she sat there, then added in a
forlorn voice, "I hate feeling like this, sweetheart! I just hate it!
But there it is!" Then she turned her huge eyes to me and said in the
most incredibly small, pleading voice, "Please, honey? Please! Just
once?"

I sat there frightened. It was very late. I felt monumentally tired,
used up. Why had I chosen tonight to force the issue? Had I? Had this
conversation simply evolved of its own will toward this crux? No
matter, I had to face it now or I'd surely lose her! I myself could
feel my own tears rising, of loss, of regret, of lamentation for what
might have been, tears of sorrowful acceptance rising into my eyes,
and I knew that if they actually erupted I'd lose everything. Claire
would leave me, a hopelessly helpless, indecisive, small-dicked, self-
pitying, sobbing wimp. She'd mourn my loss briefly, until those studs
in her Club persuaded her to forget me.

So I restrained myself, and instead forced myself to speak. "Claire,
I'm not promising anything. But if I were to agree to attend one of
your meetings, just to prove to you that I can do it, how would that
help us? Husband or no husband, how could I deal with it when I see
you and Chuck head toward some suite of rooms upstairs in this mansion
you people meet in, while I'm left standing alone in some reception
area somewhere. What would I have to imagine while you're with him?
At least sitting here I can imagine anything or nothing, and I always
choose to imagine nothing!"

Claire now stood up unexpectedly, and came over to the large easy chair
I was sitting in and sat down on an arm and leaned way over me, and
kissed me on the lips. Oh so tenderly! So very sweetly! And again.
I began melting!

"Billy my darling," she whispered to me. "My sweet, precious angel!
Don't worry about such things. Your first time everyone will take good
care of you. You won't ever be alone. I promise you, when Chuck and I
next get it on you'll be there, you'll be a part of it! To watch,
maybe even to share! Whichever, it'll be your choice."

"That's if I decide to go," I insisted.

"Whichever way you decide to go," she replied.

"You mean as a fruit or a whore?"

"That's crude, honey! But whichever. It's altogether your decision!
Maybe you should try out each one first to see which is more *you*.
Which expresses better the way you want to feel when you're having sex.
Are you more one of their kind, or are you one of my kind? Because
there'll be quite a few men who'll want to use you even your first
time, whichever way you flip. Or flop!" She smiled reassuringly for
the first time that evening.

"May I make a suggestion?" She waited for my nod, then kissed me again
before continuing. So soft, her lips! I wanted to do anything to make
her happy. "Honey, choose to be a girl, not a gay. I love it, being a
girl. I think you would too. And I'd love it for you! But there're
other reasons. We have many more men who prefer girls to boys, so
you'd have more choice among them. Some of the men who prefer men are
into really rough sex, even blood sports -- if you're gay you don't
have to go with them, but you can't always tell, and you'd feel a moral
obligation to them probably. And you're so fragile, so sensitive,
sweetheart! I think you'll be happier developing a feminine
personality. Even though you have so much to learn about being a girl,
and even though you already know enough about being a boy to fake it
convincingly. Once you're a girl, you can always change your mind and
go the other way and become a shemale or a femme boy, if that's more to
your liking. But if you're gay and want to go the other way, you'd
have to start all over again, and go the whole distance!

What she said made sense as an abstract problem in sequencing. I
understood her and nodded. I thought about it, looked into her face,
and then nodded again. "That makes sense," I said.

She altogether misunderstood me! "Then you'll do it? That's your
choice? You'll come as a girl? Oh, darling! I'm so very, very happy!"
She leaned way over and clutched my neck so tightly I thought I'd
choke, and then with a great sigh she began to cover my face with
kisses!

I tried to recover. To pull back. "Now Claire, wait...!"

But it was too late! I wanted to tell her that this was all
hypothetical, but it was already too late! It wasn't hypothetical for
her any longer! She was already very, very happy! She crawled on top
of me in the big easy chair, onto my lap, and she wrapped herself
around me, and then she began giving me long, serious, responsive
kisses. Her free hand reached down toward my altogether neglected cock
and unzipped my fly.

"Oh darling!" she breathed in utter contentment. "Oh, my sweet baby!
We'll have such a good time together! You'll never regret this.
Never!" And gently she began to jerk me off. Slowly. A sweet
yearning rose up in my loins and into my belly and my thighs. As it
intensified she kissed me. "This darling little thing," she said. "So
cute! Practically a clit! We are all going to adore it! Kiss it,
fondle it, tug on it, gays and guys, lesbians and ladies, everyone!"
She manipulated my penis slowly, carefully, and brought me to an edge.
Then slowed. For the rest of our conversation she kept me just under
that edge, enraptured.

"Everyone will take care of me, you said?" I said. I was frankly
frightened. There was no point any more to maintaining a conditional
mode. I had better find out what she's committed me to do. Find what
reassurance I could in whatever she could say.

"Everyone, sweetheart! Let me tell you how. The Club has a welcoming
ceremony for first-time members, and for spouses it's fully scripted.
First, to prove your sincerity, you and Chuck will make love in public.
As a courtesy, because you're mine, and Chuck's more mine than anyone
else's. That means that I'll ceremonially hand you over to him.
Remember that the membership already thinks Chuck is your girlish
heart's desire. Lots of us are hopeless romantics, and will want to
see you fulfill your dream just as I've described it to them. So
you'll suck his cock in front of everyone, and then wrap your legs
around his waist just as you've always dreamed, supposedly, while he
takes your virginity. And you'll try to be as affectionate with him as
any girl can be when she's with a man who is so marvelously fulfilling
her girlhood fantasies. You'll kiss him all over his face gently but
passionately. Like this."

She did so. Light, soft, dainty pecks lingering for a moment on my lips
when they landed there and pressing delicately against my cheeks. "Just
the way you're now fulfilling my fantasy for me, you marvelous man!
That's the last time I'll be able to call you that, my dearest
girlfriend, a man I mean, but I just had to one more time!" Her hand
magically sustained my cock's delicious intensity of feeling. I almost
rose to cum, then didn't. Then again.

"Then when Chuck's broken in your mouth and your ass you'll belong to
anyone who's attracted to you. That'll be our confirmed gays first of
all, of course. They'll want to use you while you still more or less
resemble a man. But I imagine it'll also be anyone at all. Some of
the girls have been so envious when I've told them about how wonderful
it feels when you suck and lick me after I've had sex with several men.
They'll want to find out for themselves. And some straight guys want
to get at you for their own reasons. There's a business competitor who
told me that you'd once fucked him out of a contract, so he'd take
special pleasure fucking you in the ass. You might enjoy it too -- we
all love it hard, deep, and relentless some times, don't we? Then
there's an old schoolmate of yours who still admires you and thinks a
session of 69ing would be blissful. And there's an old flame of mine
who never got over the fact that I married you and not him. You may
need to watch out for him. No telling what he'll want from you. He
gets pretty wild with me these days."

I'd never dreamed that anyone I knew belonged to this club of Claire's.
I was appalled. But another warning bell was ringing in my head from
something she'd said.

"Claire, wait a minute. You said that the gays will want to use me
'While I still more or less resemble a man'? What does that mean?"

"Sweetheart! You're a girl! My girlfriend! The straight men in our
Club want to see breasts on their women! Like mine, even bigger! So
we'll start breasts growing on you at once! Don't worry, you'll feel
so good about them you won't be able to imagine a time when you didn't
have breasts. For many reasons, but the main reason will be that
you'll feel so deliciously wicked when you fondle them!"

"Oh!" was all I could say. I was overwhelmed. I should have known.

"To get back to it. A first-timer is available to whoever asks, and a
first year girl is always available anyhow -- she's available to anyone
for anything but S&M, unless she's into S&M. You'll be an available
mouth and asshole at first, because you won't yet have a cunt or
breasts! Though the men will call you a cunt even so, you know how
guys talk. You'll be a pretty cunt, I'll bet, when I get you dolled up
and we make a few adjustments in your face and figure."

"Then at the end of a year's probation you'll decide if you want to
continue as a Club slut for another year, or divorce your wife and
become a male clubmember in your own right, or get a pussy and become a
complete woman member. You'll have full-sized breasts by then, if only
for your own satisfaction, so your men can suckle them in return for
similar favors rendered. Most wives of Club sluts usually want them
to go all the way, to finish up with everything a girl should have,
vagina included. Out of guilt at depriving them, or to encourage
feminist independence, or because they've already found better men --
different reasons. You'll need to choose which kinds of breasts you
want fairly soon, inserts right off or wait for your hormones to grow
you your own. I favor the natural kind. They're usually worth the
wait."

I tried asking indirectly how much of this was reversible. "Doesn't
anyone just leave after the year? Decide it isn't for them? How many
decide they'd rather be men again?"

This time Claire paused, and looked away. Then toward me. Then kissed
me. Then thought some more, and finally she said, "No, honey. None.
No one ever leaves. No one changes back, either. It's always been for
keeps. They aren't able. You see, they've gotten accustomed to it all
by then. They like it!"

I didn't know what to make of that. As an afterthought Claire added,
"Eunice was our last Club slut. She had to leave town not long ago when
her wife's firm -- it used to be her firm -- relocated in another city.
She now tends the household and entertains clients for her wife, helps
out like that, and I hear she's kept herself busy doing volunteer
fucking and sucking among the underprivileged. Because in a way, she
can't help herself now. I can understand that. Once you're a girl,
why should you ever want to be a man again?"

This was beyond me. I tried again to find some reassuring precedents,
others who had gone where I was now sort of committed to go. "You said
there were already a few other husbands there. What do they do?"

"Oh, them. All three decided they'd rather be queer. So all three now
are. Their first session turned them on so throughly they now spend all
their time with each other, and two of their wives are divorcing them.
It's ironic. When the divorces go through they could revert and go
straight and fuck anybody. But the chances are they'll be so busy
sucking each other's dicks and burying them in each other's rear ends
that they'll never notice."

She continued to slide her palm up and down my cock. I was in ecstasy.
But my mind wasn't altogether euphoric.

"Claire, please don't take offense. I have to be honest with you now.
It's one thing to hear about these things, but it's another to actually
do them. I know it's silly, and it's wrong, and I shouldn't, but my
mind still keeps finding all kinds of objections and inhibitions and
resentments. There's Chuck for example. I understand everything
you've said. But how can I let the man who's fucked my wife fuck me?
How can I suck a cock that she's sucked? It's like conferring a Good
Housekeeping seal of approval on my arch rival. Moreover, I've always
been faithful to you. But now you tell me I'll need to become
promiscuous, a slut, and have sex with anyone of any sex or gender or
sexual preference. How can I do that and do it with sincerity? My
heart wouldn't be in it!"

Curled up on my lap, Claire kissed my nose. "My dear darling! I know
it's difficult. I was hoping you wouldn't raise that issue until
tomorrow -- it's so very late now. The problem is, you're still
thinking like a man. Like a husband. And that's the next thing we
need to talk about. Since you're now willing to meet all the
conditions I've mentioned, I've got to tell you how you'll meet them.
By fulfilling one more condition. Not by choosing to fulfill it. Here
you don't get a choice. By submitting to it."

I was far from feeling easy about the way this conversation had gone.
In fact I was apprehensive. What had I agreed to do, or seemed to agree
to do? I couldn't imagine myself actually fulfilling any of these
things. But did I have a choice? Really, it seemed my choice was, do
it or walk away from my marriage.

"Submit? What else can there be? You want me to play the pansy slut at
these meetings of yours. What more is there?"

"Not pansy, darling. A gay man can be a pansy, but not you. You're a
girl. As of right now. Right now the two of us are girlfriends, not man
and wife, and we're lesbians too, sort of." She kissed me as if to
confirm the point, then smiled into my face. "We'll stay married, I'll
never want to give you up, but we're no longer equal partners. You
see, the one additional condition is that you submit to me. That
whatever I want, you'll want me to have. And that you'll do everything
I want you to do."

I was silent, a little puzzled.

"I know, that's how a gentleman always feels about the lady he loves.
But in this case it's also necessary. It's a formal condition of our
relationship from now on. You obey me. Whatever I want, you'll do,
and whatever I want you'll *want* to do. That's essential."

"You see, sweetie, to become the girl you need to be, you'll need
guidance. You'll want it. I know you don't feel that way yet, but don't
worry, you will. You'll change so much faster, your desire to please
others will grow so much stronger when my desires for you become yours.
If your greatest happiness is seeing me smile at you. If my approval
sends you into ecstasies. We can arrange it. There are training
programs that accomplish this, and if you can't achieve it on your own,
there are drugs that can help you."

"At first it'll be easy. You'll feel more like a girl the moment you
look more like one and begin to practice being one, and that's tomorrow.
Nothing much, just a beauty salon and shop for some clothes and get
your hormone regimen established -- no cosmetic surgery at all until
later, when we see what's necessary. Tomorrow we'll play. It'll be
such fun! Like when I was a little girl playing with my dollies!"

"The second step is more difficult. It isn't easy to learn to think
like a girl instead of a man. To get so you really want to do what
girls do. I'll help you there too, but now that you've finally agreed
to all this I mean to get away for a while to do something else I've
had in mind. Now I'll know that you're too busy to be sitting at home
moaning and sulking because I'm somewhere else. So someone else will
take over for me. This next stage takes time, weeks maybe. But you'll
enjoy it, believe me. The woman I have in mind for you will use only
positive reinforcement of different kinds, from a hand gently tugging
on your penis while she talks to you, like mine right now, that's one
kind, to certain kinds of suggestions she'll implant whenever you're in
an appropriately receptive state of mind. Maybe you'll embrace your
femininity to escape the way she'll humiliate your manhood. You'll
see. When she's done you'll love doing whatever you're asked, and in no
time you won't want things any other way!"

"The really hard part comes with heightening the intensity of your
desires, so you become in some ways insatiable. That's the third stage.
You see darling, a willingness to do the job isn't enough. You'll need
to be eager to swallow all that cum out of all those cocks and pussies.
Not just mine, anyone's. You'll practically have to live for it to be
of use to us. Beg for it. Crave it and feel joyous when it's about to
happen! Now, that requires radical behavior modification. Special
training and conditioning full time for at least a month."

She paused. I was still silent, trying to absorb it all, so she
continued. "That takes professionals, and a special school you'll
attend. The people who'll actually be training you are first class,
thoroughly experienced. I don't doubt that you'll be all we hope for
in plenty of time for your debut in ... let's say ... six weeks! You
won't recognize yourself!"

I was addled. The lateness of the hour, the deliciously distracting
yearning in my crotch. Her hand slipping up and down on my penis. I
couldn't think. "Full time you say? For six weeks? What about my
work?"

"Quite impossible from now on, sweetheart. Preparing for this new role
is your work. I'll make arrangements tomorrow for a three month leave
of absence for you. When you resign at the far end of the three
months, if you do it in person you'll create quite a sensation! By
then you'll be gorgeous!"

This was a late-night hallucination! It had to be! I tried finding
some place in the soft ground where I could dig in my heels. "Claire,
what can you be training me for that it's so necessary for me to quit
work? Your Club meets only evenings, and only once a week." I was
trying at that point to test my sanity.

"Well, really, Billy, a Club slut is special. What we'll want is for
you to walk around in a dazed haze of erotic desire all the time. To
think about it all the time. Because between meetings, you'll be on
call. All the time. Don't worry, the membership will pay you
something for your services. Not well, but enough for you to
understand you're our whore, not yet an equal member with the rest of
us, that you're performing for money no matter how sincerely you may
also want to please us. That way you can measure the satisfaction
you're providing by the tips you've earned. You'll pay your dues and
help here with household expenses. If you need more you'll earn it on
the street. You'll find you've been as well-trained as any
professional!"

"And you'll love your trainer. Erika is her name. She's available now,
as it happens. A woman with a wonderful force of character, really
overwhelming. I'm sure she'll begin very gently with you at first,
probably nothing more than rewards granted or deferred. But I'll bet
that within two weeks you'll be blissful when she fucks you with her
dildo. That you won't feel complete when she isn't mounted on you."

"It won't be you?"

"Me? Oh, Bill, no! I need to be held in reserve for you. I'm the
woman you really love, remember! I'm the highest pinnacle of your joy!
Pleasing me will be your loftiest aspiration. Now and then you'll be
allowed near me, on some really rare occasion when you're fully
trained. I may even let you back into my bedroom then."

She wriggled on my lap, her hand still stroking me. Her bottom felt
moist. No, wet. She had indeed been leaking, the whole time.

"You see, sweetie, Chuck and I will be going away for a week or two as
soon as you're set up with Erika, now that I know you won't be sitting
here alone pining away for me. We've wanted to for the longest time.
I want to condition him to recover erections more quickly, so he can
last as long as I want him to last. And install some other little
reflexes he doesn't need to know are there. Then when he can go all
night I'll want him upstairs with me in our bedroom, snugged into me
all night, at least for a few weeks, maybe more. Don't look so
downcast, you'll scarcely notice! You'll move into the guest room with
Erika. She's the woman you'll want to learn to please now. I'll have
higher expectations you can't possibly hope to meet for many weeks."

"You see, darling, you're still too accustomed to thinking of me as your
wife, not your girlfriend. Be happy that your girlfriend is now free to
play with her boyfriend whenever she wants to. Get used to it. You
have so much to get used to! I mean, you've never even had a tampon in
your pussy, much less a butt plug or dildo, or the ultimate
fulfillment, a real cock. So Erika will go slow. We'll just put you
on high hormone doses and watch you closely and see what happens
naturally. Your mind will change along with your body, so you'll
always feel comfortable as it happens."

My face must have looked as appalled as I felt, because she reassured
me. "Believe me honey, you'll get into it! I've had lots of experience
with submissive men, and you're a natural."

"Why are you so sure?"

"I can sense it. I know. Watch!"

She suddenly let go of my member and wriggled clear of my lap and stood
up. Then hiked up her skirt -- I saw it had a drenched area just as my
pants did -- and lay down on her back in the carpet, all the while
looking at me. She spread her legs wide and gestured to me with both
hands. I could see she'd come home without any panties. There was her
slit in the lamplight, puffed out, distended, glistening, pooled with
opalescent fluids, her whole bottom slick.

"Do you want to bury your face in there, Billy?"

I tried to pull out of it. "Claire," I began.

Then failed. "Yes" is all I said. It had been so long!

"See?" She said. Then "Do it!"

A second later she was saying "Ohhhh, that's so goooood!" her thighs
holding my head tightly to her quim in a loving hug. I couldn't bend my
neck, and I could barely breathe! But I didn't care!

Her fingers were running through my hair. She gripped it

"Yes," she said. "I think I prefer you as my girlfriend, not my faggot
roomie or my former hubbie. If it's girls you've always loved, that's
what you should become. There's more chance then that you'll love what
you've become. Yessssss! I will miss that tongue of yours until Erika
can certify that the rest of you is ready! Oooohhhhhh, yessssss!"

And she came, her thighs tightening and hips in spasm, lurching my head
and neck uncontrollably.

Then she rose, and gestured me to sit back down again. "It's nearly
four now, my lovely darling. Let's fuck now this one last time together
as husband and wife. My sweet girl. My sweet slut girl. You *will*
love it! It'll be perfect for you! No more choices! No more
anxieties. No more worrying. You'll go with me to all our meetings
whenever I go, and to lots of others in between on your own. Always
eager to help. Never questioning anything. You'll blow anyone I ask,
and suck anyone who asks you! It will be wonderful. I love you.
Here, put yourself into me now, and add your cum to the other cum
inside me from tonight. Maybe for the last time."

She lifted herself up and dropped her crotch down on me, and writhed up
and down a few more times. I felt a wet warmth on my cock, humid,
slippery, though I couldn't feel her pussy at all. She slid up and
down on me again, and then I felt myself shooting off inside her as if
into moist air. At last! Heaven! Breathing heavily, I hugged her,
and she hugged me back.

I felt blissfully happy at that moment. And finally, for some reason, I
started to cry.

End