Chapter Eighteen

Week sixteen and we heard from our retired police friend. He was pleased as punch. The local police had caught the two hoods on the beach and a police launch had picked up the two in the dinghy. The bigger boat that the rib had come from got away. The police were kicking themselves that they had not set up a bigger operation. They had not involved the navy who could have tracked the boat. They were, however, very happy with what they had picked up. The two from the car were well known to the Met Police and had a string of convictions. The two from the boat were Russians and all four were very tight lipped.

The police had captured drugs with a street value of well over half a million pounds. They had asked our ex police friend to see if his contact had any more information about the gang’s actions. Megan got straight onto to the French site and, to our dismay, the whole thing had been wiped. There was no trace of any information left. The house had been cleaned. The police were pleased to make a bust, but disappointed that they would not be able to get to those behind the drugs.

Strike one and we had hurt Justin but we had come no where near putting him out of business.

On Monday evening I decided to take an inventory of myself. I stood naked in front of a long mirror and studied what I saw. From the neck up I looked like an acceptably good looking young woman. I had a high forehead for a woman but not unusually so. It made me look intelligent. My eyes, lips, nose and cheekbones all looked good. There was no sign of a beard or sideburns, my face was smooth and a little chubby. My hair was auburn, healthy and now came down to my shoulders.

My neck and shoulders were much slimmer than they had been, but they still looked chunky. My boobs were small but visible, they looked as though they were going to be a nice shape, but looked small on my frame. My waist was noticeable but still looked too wide. My hips and bum had spread a little and the muscle tone in my bum and hips had largely gone. I had a bit of a wobble.

My todger and balls looked out of place on the rest of me but they seemed to have reduced in size. My todger was only marginally smaller but the shrinkage was much more noticeable with my balls. My hands were slim, slightly on the large size for a woman, but they looked elegant. The muscle tone in my legs had softened and my legs now looked long and sexy. My feet were a little larger than you would expect for a woman, but if I had not been looking for it, I would not have noticed.

Was I looking at a man or a woman? If you ignored the cock and balls you could see a chunky looking woman with a pretty face, good legs and a flat chest. I looked a lot like a much younger version of my mother except that she was very well endowed in the bust region. Mum had good legs and a pretty face. As soon as she let her weight rise, she started to look a bit chunky. Her bust though was a large DD size on her five foot five frame.

If I was going to look like an attractive woman, I was going to have to lose more weight and maybe go back to the corsets for a while. I even wondered about the rib operation. We could certainly afford it now. I had got my weight down well below eleven stone now but it needed to come down further. I was going to have to do more yoga and aerobics to keep myself looking trim. After talking it through with Sam we agreed that the rib trim idea was too dangerous and decided on more corset wear. More discomfort in the cause of beauty. If my bust grew, I lost weight and put a little more rounding on my hips, I would look much better balanced. In under four months I had changed from being a solid, tough hunk of a scrum half to being a slightly chunky, but feminine looking “female”. Was this an achievement or was it just the beginning of the end of my happy old life? Somehow, it was difficult to feel pleased with the changes. The more I thought about it, the more depressed I became.

It had been a disappointment when the drug raid had been a dead end. We set Megan to look at anything that she could dig up in any of Justin’s other companies. With the volume of work that we had it was difficult to release time for her to hack.

We had heard rumours that Justin’s wager winning system was having a lot of installation problems. Justin’s team had been spending most of their time trying to sort out bugs and refine the system. We wished him all the ill luck in the world and hoped his problems would mount.

At work Sam still called me Tom, but when we were relaxing and chatting, she called me Jen. Sam loved to go on retail therapy trips with me. We were doing so well that we could afford to splurge a bit. When we were out Sam just chatted away to me as if I was her best female friend. It was very easy for me to slip into that role without thinking. In some ways Sam and I were closer than ever. My opinion was sought on styles, colours, make up and outfits. Advice was also freely given. The one thing that disturbed me though was that Sam had called me Jen more frequently when we were making love. I found that despite being male underneath, I was starting to match her mood cycles. I had become much more prone to tears. We even had a good weep when we went to see a romantic film at the cinema. Unusually, I enjoyed it.

I was wearing mascara and a bit of lippy more often than not and some female behaviours were becoming natural. I did not have to concentrate to pass.

On Friday we dressed up and had a meal out with friends and on Saturday we went dancing at the Gay club. The dancing became competitive and then raunchy. We were egged on by our gay friends and had a thoroughly naughty night. When we got home Sam suggested that we had purely lesbian sex. When I said that I was not sure how, she produced a lesbian porn film that one of the girls at the club had lent her. The film was extremely educational and both during and after the film, we tried most of what we had watched. It was a new and very rewarding experience for both of us. I never realized one could have that much pleasure without actual penetrative intercourse.

Week seventeen and Megan decided to have a crack at getting into Justin’s main system. Most of the site was impenetrable but Megan found a record of Justin’s contracts for systems work. There were several with his subsidiary companies in America and France. There were also contracts with a number of other organizations in the Lebanon, Russia, Germany, Bolivia, Panama and Belgium. Tim contacted a friend who had done a considerable amount of freelance work for Justin’s company and asked if he had done any work for those clients. Tim’s friend said that he was not aware of any systems being designed or supported for any of the client groups mentioned.

He said that only a few of Justin’s staff were involved in systems work. The remainder, were scary dudes and he did not know what they did. Justin’s total design team consisted of three people plus his freelance workers. We decided to see if we could follow up some of the supposed contacts. We had the names of the organizations and a contact person in each case. If we could get evidence that Justin had been selling bogus systems to organizations in return for illegally raised money, we would be able to, not only prove money laundering, but also that he was earning money from illegal activities.

We thought that we would start with the Belgian contacts. I think we were under the impression that Belgium was less scary than Russia or Lebanon. Our efforts resulted in us identifying a billing address for the Belgian organization. The address was real and it was another club. There seemed to be a pattern forming in Justin’s money making interests.

We trawled the Belgian press looking for any reference to the person named as the customer contact, but could find no person of that name. Sam suggested that she should go and look at the club and see what sort of organization it was. I vetoed the suggestion. There was no way that I would let Sam put herself in harms way. Any risk taking was my job. Sam was unkind enough to point out that since I had started on the hormones, I had lost a large amount of muscle mass and tone. I may be much more supple and possibly quicker over a short distance but now, I was not a lot stronger than she was.

She also raised the problem of my passport. I no longer looked like my picture. If I dressed up as a man then I looked quite feminine. If I dressed as a woman, then I had a man’s passport. Whichever way could lead me into problems at passport control. What we decided, was that I would travel as a man, but get a letter from my therapist to state that I was a male transitioning to female. When I got to Belgium, I could book into a hotel, change into female dress and go and see what I could find out about the club. I would then return the following morning.

The rest of the week sped by with a visit to the therapist, a meal out with friends and a heavy load of work.

When Saturday came I donned male clothing for the first time in weeks. I bound my small breasts and was able to go without a gaff. It was wonderful to be swinging free again. My clothes felt loose on me, everywhere except the hips and bum. It felt very strange wearing shoes and socks, they were lumpy and heavy. In the end I gave up with my old chinos and wore a pair of my lady cut jeans. I looked a bit strange with a mans shirt, jacket, coat and shoes with a pair of women’s jeans. I wore my hair in a low pony tail and, of course no make up or nail polish. I had not realized how natural I had become, wearing women’s clothes, make up and nail polish. I did not think of myself as a woman in any way, but I was totally comfortable in women’s clothes and make up. My day to day conversations, my mannerisms and my interests had become quite female. I was comfortable in the knowledge that I was male. I was also totally at ease living as a female. It was a bizarre split personality.

It was not until I tried to be convincingly male on the journey that it came home to me how far I had travelled in becoming a woman. On the one hand it was deeply scary, but on the other it was what we were planning to succeeding at.

I was surprised on my way out that when I presented my passport it was handed back to me without comment. There was no problem. The journey was uneventful and I found the hotel with ease. Once in my room the transformation took place. I put on a waist cinch and was able to unbind my small breasts. I used a push up bra and fillets to enhance my bust and dressed as a young raver in short skirt, tights, a top that showed all the cleavage I could muster. I wore a pair of knee high soft leather boots with one and a half inch heels. I wanted to be able to stay on my feet for a long time. The year was now moving into spring and it was not too cold so I just wore a wrap and no coat.

I found the club right in the heart of the red light district. Sitting in a coffee shop opposite for an hour, I could watch the comings and goings. The crowd were young and looked anything from latish teens to latish twenties. They were a bunch of bright young things doing the Saturday night thing. There was also an older crowd, mostly male, who did not look as though they were there to dance. Whilst I sat there I was approached by several men varying from a few years younger than me, right up to my father’s age. I had taken care not to dress in a way that could make me be mistaken for a working girl. As a result the pick up lines, in a variety of languages, were pleasant and no problem. A smile, a confession of speaking only English and that I was meeting my boyfriend prevented any difficulties.

I plucked up courage and crossed the road to the club. There was no problem getting in and once inside a wall of sound hit me. Having parked my wrap, I got myself a bottle of Italian beer. I was not going to drink anything that I had not seen being opened and it would never leave my sight. In no time I had been invited to dance and was jigging wildly to the pounding beat. You could feel the music as much as hear it. I could smell the pot and, in no time I was offered a selection of pills. When I turned those down I was asked if I wanted anything stronger. I had covered most of the club within the first forty minutes or so. Other than the drugs, the place seemed to be a normal club. There was one door though, that was guarded by two large scary doormen. They were only letting people through who had a pass card. The only people without passes that were allowed in were the women on the arms of the members. I asked one of my dance partners what went on behind the door and he said that it was a high roller gambling den.

So far, so good, I had observed what the main body of the place was like. I had been groped and had erections rubbed against me. My bum had been distinctly man handled but nothing that I could not cope with.

I wanted to get into the gambling den to spy out the land. The only plan that I could think of was to stay close to where the members were coming and going and get picked up. Not much of a plan, I know. Almost as soon as I headed towards the door, a distinguished looking man, in his late thirties, or early forties came through the door back into the club. He was in deep thought and walked straight into me. In a flurry of French he apologized most graciously. He suggested that the least he could do, was to share some champagne with me.

I realized, after the first couple of exchanges, that we had been talking French. My French is adequate but hardly fluent. My companion quickly realized my difficulty and smoothly moved to an impeccable, but slightly accented English. He introduced himself as Julian and ushered me to an area of the club that was relatively quiet. The background noise still made it difficult for conversation, so my companion suggested that we transfer to the comfort of the gambling club.

Julian flashed his pass and we went into the refined quiet of the gambling club. The difference was huge. The average age of the men, was much more than double that in the club and the elegance of the women made my outfit feel cheap and drab. We found a place to sit, away from the tables where serious gentlemen were playing cards with a deep intensity.

“Now my dear Jen, we can talk without the need to shout. What is a pretty young woman doing on her own in this den of iniquity, in danger of being knocked to the floor by a thoughtless ruffian like myself.”

“A good question Julian. This is my first trip to Belgium. I came with a good female friend for a short weekend break. I wanted to see the sights and visit the galleries. It would seem that she came to party. It was her idea to come to the club, if I had been expecting to be clubbing, I would have brought more appropriate clothing.”

“You look charming my dear. Where is your friend?”

“She found herself a hunky male companion and decided the rest of the evening was going to be in his arms. Her last comment was that I shouldn’t wait up for her and that she would see me at a late breakfast. I was just about to get my wrap and leave. This place is a bit more wild than I am used to.”

“It is a good job that I brutally tried to knock you down. I can show you a little of the quieter night life here. Have you eaten?”

“Only a snack.”

“Then I shall take you where we can have a quiet meal and enjoy some good music. The restaurant is only a couple of hundred yards away. If you are happy we could walk. To buy you a meal would be the least I could do to make up for my brutality.”

“I appreciate your offer but I am a single girl on my own in a strange city and maybe I should head back to the hotel.”

“I give you my word as a Lawyer and an upright French gentleman, that we can dine, talk and maybe a little dancing and then I will deliver you safely to the door of your hotel. My dear Jen, I too am adrift in a foreign town and would welcome the company.”

I agreed to go with him to eat. I was hoping to find out more about the gambling club. It was strangely easy to be the feminine to his masculine. I knew I was a man in a masquerade but, I suppose, so many weeks of living as a women and it was becoming second nature to me. He was probably twenty years older than me and stood at a little over six foot tall. His suit was cut to perfection and what he was clothed in would have paid for a complete new system of top spec computers in our studio. He was clean cut, clean shaven, with a twinkle it his blue eyes and a warm smile. Since when did I start noticing the colour of a man’s eyes?

He was definitely not the sort of heavy weight hood that I had started to associate with Justin. He directed us to a very elegant restaurant where a four piece group were playing gentle jazz. The menu was mouth wateringly tempting and there were no prices to be seen. We shared a bottle of excellent Chablis as we ate our fish, then sat back with a smooth fruity Armagnac with our coffee.

Julian admitted that he was a married man with a wife that he loved and three children, the eldest of which was at university. He had been in Belgium for a meeting with a group of EU lawyers, discussing the future application of a range of regulations. The meeting had dragged on and on and he had decided to stop over rather than try to drive the 300 miles home.

When I asked him about how he had decided to go to the gambling club, he told me that one of the German lawyers had suggested it. The German was a member and after a couple of calls, a membership pass had been arranged. Gambling dens were not his normal haunt, but he was a good card player, good with numbers and his fee for the weekend meeting had been obscene. He was intrigued to go and see what it was like. The thing that intrigued him most was that the German lawyer had a bit of a reputation and he was interested to see what sort of places he frequented.

When he went into the club he had watched for a while. He summed up the clientele as being largely made up of the type of people that his colleagues defended in court. Some of the people made him feel uncomfortable. He played poker at one of the tables and, at first he was making gains. He had not joined a very high stakes table, but the money was enough to make him cautious. There were suggestions that the stakes be raised and slowly he had started to lose. He had reached the stage where he was down by a small amount when he decided to take a break and review his position. That was when he literally walked into me. I had probably saved him from stupidly losing more than was sensible. I had therefore earned my meal many times over.

It was a shame that after getting to talk to someone who was a member albeit a temporary one, I should learn so little. Julian’s conversation was witty and fun. He had me laughing at stories about legal cases. He quizzed me about my background and I was able to talk freely about everything with the exception of saying that Sam was my oldest and closest friend rather than my wife. Julian said that he would have his firm contact us to see about systems design.

It was easy talking to Julian, relaxed and fun. When Julian suggested that we took advantage of the good music and dance, I was half on my feet before I had thought about it. Once up, it would have been wrong to back out. I had to think hard about where my hands went. Julian was an excellent dancer. I was clumsy and stumbling at first. I excused myself as being an inexperienced dancer. I explained my tendency to try and lead to having been one of the taller girls at an all girls school and having to play the male part. In the end I just relaxed and followed Julian’s lead. Once I relaxed it was such fun. The alchohol had loosened my stiffness and I was in danger of becoming graceful. We smiled, laughed and talked as we whirled round the floor. At the end of one dance we were smiling and looking in each others eyes when he leaned in and kissed me. I could feel the slight stubble on his skin and smell his musky au de cologne. His lips were dry and warm on mine and I liked it. My first reaction was to close my eyes , with my head tilted back, my arms around his shoulders and to respond to the kiss. When my brain resurfaced I knew that this was so wrong. To be held in a strong man’s arms a gently but firmly kissed was intriguingly good, but oh so wrong. I was so tempted to explore with my tongue. But as we broke I blushed and looked away. Shit, I am not gay.

“I should apologise, my dear Jen for taking advantage of a young lady, but I am afraid that I enjoyed that too much to do so. I promise to be on my best behaviour from now on.”

The evening drew to a close and Julian escorted me back to the hotel. All the way back in the cab, I was thinking about what I would do if he wanted to kiss me again. I was actually hoping that he would. I am not gay. I like women. I am not gay.

I wondered what I could do to encourage him. We had held hands all the way back from the restaurant and as the taxi pulled up I gave his hand a squeeze. He got out and opened the door for me. As I got out, he gathered me in his arms and I did not resist. We kissed and I was happy and relieved that he had done so. My tongue could not help itself and we explored each other, the kiss lasted no time but for ages. As we said our goodbyes I felt exhilarated and excited. That was a kind of feeling that I had not had since I was a teenager. It was naughty exploration of territory that I should not be setting foot in. All the time I was feeling guilty and wretched about cheating on Sam. It was wrong at so many levels and I am not gay.

That night I cried tears of frustration at my own inability to control what was happening to me. I am not gay.

What had I achieved by my visit? Absolutely nothing and I had got myself into a situation that had left me confused and disappointed in myself. I knew that I was going to have to woo a man in order to win the wager, but I didn’t want to enjoy it. On the one hand I had made a convincing job as a young woman. On the other hand I had been far too comfortable. I had forgotten who I was, but I am not gay.

In the morning I was stupid enough to wear my female clothes without thinking. I suppose I had found them comfortable now that I had a small but distinct bust.

When I got to the border agency check, the officer looked at me, looked at my passport and immediately got on the phone. I was immediately directed out of the queue and to a shed at the side. After I was escorted from the car, I was interrogated. Who was I? Why was I, a female travelling on a man’s passport? My luggage had been brought from the car and the mixture of male and female clothes discovered. I tried to explain that I was a pre-op transsexual and that my passport had yet to be altered. I showed the officers the letter from the psychiatrist. The letter was met with as much suspicion as I was. I was then told to strip for a search. I was asked whether I wanted to be strip searched by a man or a woman. In my confusion I could not say, so I had a mixed audience of four officers while I stripped naked, the crude jokes that the officers cracked and the derision with which they looked at my naked body was mentally and emotionally crippling. With a look of absolute glee they informed me that I had to have a cavity inspection in case of drugs. It was the most humiliating experience of my short life. They were not gentle.

When they had had their fun and checked with my psychiatrist, I was allowed to go. All my self confidence had been drained out of me.

When I got home I told Sam the unvarnished truth about what had happened and my concerns. Sam cuddled me and soothed me while I cried and tried to make sense of where we were. For the first time since I was a small child, I just wanted to be held and for someone to make the difficult stuff go away. I was depressed and had totally lost my belief in myself.

For the whole of the following week I was in a dark fug. I felt that Justin had won. I was no longer Tom and I was only a freak who would be rejected by everyone. I found it difficult to get out of bed and kept bursting into tears. Sam kept things going and nursed me through the week. By the end of the week I was able to go for long periods without crying. By Sunday I was starting to get angry and my determination started to return. Sam’s relief was palpable. She really thought she might have lost me.

Chapter Nineteen

Week nineteen and I was starting to recover my old self. All the time that I had been down Sam had called me Tom. Not once had she called me Jen. As week nineteen progressed she started to call me Jen again in the evenings. By the weekend of that week I had felt up to going out again and Sam and I went dancing at the gay club. The dancing brought back difficult feelings but it was nice and fun and when we got home we spent a lovely night of lesbian and heterosexual love making.

I was starting to find that erections were not as fast to come and quicker to go but it was close and loving and Sam and I felt at peace afterwards.

Week twenty and I was raring to get back into the fray. While I had been feeling depressed I had lost more weight and was now down below ten and a half stone. Sam’s birthday was coming up and I asked her what she would like. She asked whether she could have anything she liked, when I responded in the affirmative, then she said she would let me know.

We had one bit of good news and another bit of news that I wasn’t so sure of. The good news was that the NHS Trust where Justin had beaten us in getting the contract, contacted us. They were distinctly unhappy with the system that Justin’s company had installed. They wanted us to look at the system to see if we could make it work. We were up to our ears in work, so we arranged to have a preliminary look later that week.

With the pressure of work, we decided to invite another of our freelancers to work full time. Danny was a hunk of a man. Good looking and a muscular six foot plus tall, he was the most laid back person we knew. He was a brilliant analyst/programmer but just loved the good things in life. Every now and then he would disappear and go walkabout. He was great fun to be around, witty, thoughtful and a total gentle man. Women loved him and he loved women. He was a lovely clever man. We knew that he was unlikely to be a long term prospect but his skill was of the highest.

The less good news was when I visited for another check up. The doctor was amazed at the speed with which I was developing secondary female characteristics. He had never known anyone develop a full A cup in under six months. I was definitely at Tanner stage 3. He was also surprised at how my weight had redistributed. My hips and bum now had a distinctly feminine look. He gave me the bad news that I was now effectively sterile. He went on to say that my testicles had significantly atrophied in a very short space of time. They rarely dropped back from inside my body cavity when I took my gaff off. He again suggested that I have the testicles removed. They may be useless, but removing them was too big a step emotionally.

Sam reminded me that in our original plan, we had assumed that I would be needing to get implants about now. With my surprisingly quick bust development, it looked as though I would be able to make do with what I had.

Not only had my bust developed faster than we had expected but my nipples had grown to be as large as Sam’s and just as sensitive. My chest had nothing of the male left. Stripped to the waist my bust was completely female. My shoulders were still a bit muscular for a woman and broader than you would expect and my neck was still a bit thick. My face looked female, albeit, more handsome than pretty. My waist was still a bit too large. My bum had lost some of its firmness and I had expanded a bit across the hips, so I looked as though I had a waist, but I was definitely going to have to lose more weight. Ten stone was going to have to be my target. More starving required.

Spring was starting to develop into the first sunny warm days of the year and Sam declared that it was shopping time. We needed to get summer clothes. We were going for a monster shopping bash. I was told that I needed summer dresses, skirts, tops, lingerie, make up, bikini, jewelry and shoes. She told me that she had decided what she wanted for her birthday. She wanted the two of us to get a tattoo of a butterfly on the cheeks of our right bum. They did not have to be the same butterfly but they had to be the same size. The second part of the present was that she wanted a proper girl’s night out. She wanted five of us, including her friend Donna, Megan Jackie and myself to have a full blooded girls night out, with all that that entailed. I had no idea what she was talking about, but I agreed.

Shopping was fun. I enjoyed the two of us chatting about clothes and trying stuff on. Sam was a ten and I was now able to fit comfortably in a twelve. When we had started, I was hardly able to get into a fourteen and mainly fitted a sixteen. I thought that we had exhausted our shopping needs when Sam declared that it was time for our girl’s night outfits. I was taken to a different type of shop. After a considerable amount of searching, Sam spotted a soft, stretchy, very fine woolen dress. It came to mid thigh and was up to the neck at the front with a scoop back that went all the way to my bum cleavage. It was in a soft sedgey green that went with my auburn hair colour and drew attention to my green eyes. When I tried it on Sam told me to leave my bra off. Now Sam is much better endowed than me, with her gorgeous C cup breasts, but my nipples had outgrown hers. I may have had very modest breasts but I had large sensitive nipples. When I tried the dress on, it clung to me like a second skin. It hugged my hips and thighs and the touch of the fabric on my very sensitive nipples made them stand out. I may have been relatively flat chested, but with the nipple display, I was going to get a lot of male attention. I was reluctant at first, but it felt so good.

Sam said that such a dress should be worn without bra or knickers. Because of my small additional factor, I would have to wear my gaff. The good thing was that the outline would look like a thong. Sam tried to get me to buy some four inch heeled, sandals to go with the dress but I drew the line at two and a half inches. The outfit was completed with a broad belt that would accentuate my waist.

Sam selected a very sheer ivory silk blouse with long loose sleeves with tight cuffs. She then selected a shiny deep red miniskirt with a silver belt, that came no further down the thigh than the one she had bought for me. Next was a pair of what Sam called fuck me heeled shoes, at least four inches possibly five. They made her bum and legs look superb. Sam then headed to Victoria Secrets and picked a bra that was flimsy in the extreme.

“Sam, you can’t wear that. You would look as though you were naked from the waist up.”

“Don’t you think I would look sexy?”

“Yes, too sexy.”

“You are missing the point. You can’t look too sexy on a girl’s night out.”

With that she bought the wisp of a thong that went with the bra. Next we bought very sheer, shiny hold up stockings. There was no way we could have suspenders under what we would be wearing.

Next we were off to the tattooist. My choice was a small tortoise shell butterfly, my favourite, just over an inch across. Sam chose a Mazarine blue to go with her eyes. Sam decided that we should have them positioned so that they would just peek out if we were wearing very brief bikini bottoms. I was surprised how painful it was, but Sam just called me a wimp. When we got back to work Sam insisted that we show everyone our tattoos.

Chapter Twenty

Week twenty one and I was still trying to get clear from Sam what a real girl’s night out was. She told me that the whole idea was to get dressed up in the sexiest outfits possible, then have enough drink to lose some inhibitions. You then went dancing and the idea was to do as many naughty things as you wanted to without grabbing a man and getting laid. That is unless you met the right hunk and wanted to get laid. I was definitely not sure whether I should be part of it.

“Tom, two things, firstly you have less than seven months left to find a man, convince him that you are wonderful and get him to fall in love with you to the extent that he not only proposes but that the wedding is arranged. The guy has to be well off and straight. In order to achieve that, you are going to have to give yourself up to being a woman for at least the next several months. If you don’t believe it, no one else will.

Remember the options are either to achieve that, or to get enough dirt on Justin to get him put away. In five months we have come up with suspicions but not one single bit of evidence. The chances are looking a long shot. The alternative is that we lose the wager. You will end up, in Thailand, out of your mind on drugs, selling yourself to anyone who will buy, until such time as Justin gets bored with the joke and you disappear. In the meantime I will have become the shit’s plaything here.

You, have no option. You have to go for it and get over your inhibitions. I hate it, but I need you to live and stay with me, whatever. You are my partner and my soul mate and I will stick with you forever, regardless of how this changes. I am doing whatever I can to help you be the killer babe that you need to be”

I was brought up short by Sam’s very blunt assessment of the situation. I had not really realized how much Sam was pushing me on, helping me.

“Hang on, you said there were two reasons why you wanted a girls night out. What was the other one?”

“For the last twenty one weeks, I have been holding back, putting my needs into the background so that I can help you become a convincing woman. I am now frustrated as hell, in danger of becoming explosively horny and I need to let my hair down.”

I had been told in no uncertain terms.

The lovely Danny was set the task of investigating the problems that the NHS trust had with Justin’s system. He was gone all week. When he returned he had a puzzled look.

“Ok guys, I am really unsure about what is going down. I saw the spec as you did when you bid for the work. I have been through what Justin has installed and it does not make sense. There are some bits that are fit for purpose and meet the spec. There are some bits that are nowhere near the spec but work. There are bits that are near the spec and are such rubbish that they do not work. It is a mess. If they want a price to patch up the system you are going to need to be very careful. I have written down my estimates of what needs to be done and a rough calculation of the design and programming hours required. I have not been able to calculate the installation costs. It is a mess. They can not have had proper diligence over the contract, the quality of the product and the control over installation. I think something stinks.”

Danny left us with his comprehensive report and went home for the weekend. Justin had clearly managed to win the wager with an inferior product that was not fit for purpose. The only problem was that the wager was over who won the contract, not who could produce a workable system. We decided that we would follow up this information and see if we could find a way out.

Preparations started for the big girl’s night out. We went to get our hair and nails done. My toes and nails were done in a green that was slightly darker than my party dress. Sam’s were a deep red to match her skirt. We were pampered and preened and then returned home for a lovely smelly relaxed bath. When I just relaxed and let it happen, it was a lovely experience. Funny how your view of life can change.

Sam helped me with my make up and I was entranced with the girl with the smokey green eyes that looked back at me from the mirror. Sam was the perfect contrast with her deep blue eyes and honey blond hair. By the time I had my tight fitting fine woolen dress, my gaff, the belt, shiny sheer stockings and sandals that were higher at over two and a half inches than I had ever worn. My dangly ear rings flashed and sparkled and looked great against my auburn hair. I was sex on legs.

I was pleased with how I looked until I saw Sam fully dressed. Her top was loose but almost completely see through. Her bra was a wisp of lace and did nothing to hide the curve and shape of her breasts and nipples. Her skirt showed off her bum to perfection and the five inch heeled shoes made her legs and bum taught and sexy. She was hot. One look and my todger was straining at the gaff. My nipples also started to make their presence obvious. Sam saw the look in my eye.

“Down boy, it has taken me an age to look like this and you are not spoiling it.”

We poured ourselves a glass of wine and waited for the girls to arrive. The first was Donna. She was about the same height as me but willowy slim. She was wearing a pair of red hipster pants in a fine strechy material that must have been painted on. Her thong peeked above the back of her pants. Her top only just covered her C cup boobs and hung like a pelmet leaving her flat stomach exposed and drawing attention to her pierced naval. Her hair was up and she was wearing a pair of shoes with heel heights the same as Sam. I had to look up to her. Air kisses and hugs and I gave Donna a glass of wine. Angie was second to arrive. Angie is the shortest of the group at about five foot two. She was looking a cross between cute and really hot. Angie was blessed with the most ample boobs of the group. She was wearing a flimsy summer dress with thin shoulder straps and a low neckline. Under it she had on a lacy bra that presented her lovely ample bosom to the world. It was difficult to take your eyes off her boobs but if you did, you were rewarded with the sight of her thong and hold up stockings through the dress. Angie’s shoes were almost as extreme as the other two’s.

Megan was the last to arrive. She was wearing a dress that was little more than a basque. Her waist was hugged by the basque and her beautiful tits presented above it. Her boobs were thrust up and you could just get a peek of the nipple if she moved quickly. She wore a short skater skirt under it and a pair of sheer tights. It turned out that I was the only one not brave enough for the killer heels. Megan was about two inches shorter than me normally. With her heels on she was, maybe, a fraction taller.

We killed a couple of bottles of wine while the girls related stories of other girl’s nights out. Megan, Donna and Jackie each related situations where a girl’s night out had ended up in bed with some hunk, or in one case the back of a car and in another case a local park. I had no idea that they were capable of such wanton behaviour. There were tales of men being led on and then left with their trousers down. The tales became more and more hilarious and lewd. I noticed that Sam had not retold any times that she had got laid on a girls night out but did relate to a couple of occasions before we were married where she had come close and one occasion when she had given a man a hand job while dancing in public. Another time she had come on the dance floor when a man was fingering her. I was shocked that the girls could have been so wanton.

Next it was into a taxi and off to the club. We went straight to the bar and had our first round of shots. Whilst we ordered the second the first challenge was set. The last person to get approached and chatted up bought the next shots.

The rules were that there were no holds barred but everyone had to tell the truth. Straight away the girls started acting more outrageously. Dressed as they were we soon had men buzzing round us. There were flirty smiles, laughter and chat. I was watching mesmerized when I felt a presence next to me. He was ok but nothing that would set the heart racing. Soon we were chatting. I was self conscious and slow. Soon after the men were dismissed and I was told that I was the slowest and that I had to pay for the shots.

The next challenge was who would be the last escorted to the dance floor. No sooner had the challenge been set than the girls were eying up the men giving the come on signals. Again I was left standing in seconds. A short hesitation and a rather good looking young man who was probably a few years younger than me chatted me up and we danced. Three dances later and we were back at the bar. The shots were on me again and they were double shots.

The next challenge was to have a dance where our bums were groped. I was starting to get a buzz and was getting fed up with buying all the shots. I gave a come on smile to a good looking young man who was tall and athletic. I soon moved in to him so that his arms circled my waist. I ground into him and his hands went down to cup my bum. It was rather a nice feeling having my bum fondled while we shmaltsed together. I could feel his muscularity through his shirt. We stayed like that for two more dances before I returned to the girls. Again I was the last and paid up.

The next challenge was to get our tits felt up. Megan said that she already qualified during the last dances and so did Sam. That left Jackie, Donna and me. Donna went back to a guy that she had been dancing with before as did Sam. In no time I was back in a clinch on the dance floor. My nipples were standing out like chapel hat pegs, because I was willing my man to touch my breasts. My breasts may have been small but they were hungry to be touched. I danced as sexily as I could and slowly felt his hand move up my side. I could barely wait for his hand to reach my nipple and moved to make it more available. When he finally touched my breast cupped it and played with the nipple through the fine wool it was as if I had had an electric shock. We spent the next two dances with him fondling first one then the other. People could see and I did not care. When I finally dragged myself away it struck me that I could describe the feel of those hands in detail but if you asked me to describe his face I would have been pushed.

Again I lost and bought the shots. Donna had bought her guy back to the bar as had Megan. We got our heads together and the next challenge was a snog with tongues. Donna claimed to have qualified already. Megan disappeared back to the dance floor with her man and was in a tongue clench with her man in no time. Sam was quickly back with a guy she had danced with before and was soon lip locked with him. That left Angie and me. I was not going to be left out last again. I spotted a hunk of a guy nursing a drink at the bar. He was good looking, well presented and alone. I went up to him and said that I was very sorry but that I had an over whelming need to kiss him and that I would be very much obliged if he would indulge me. He looked briefly taken aback then a big smile crossed his face and he said he would be honoured as he took me in his arms. He was a fair bit taller than me even with my heels on. He was solid and hunky. Our lips met softly at first then I started to tickle his lip with my tongue. In no time we were in a hot and steamy clinch. I had flash backs to my time in Belgium. I had initiated a kiss with a man and was being thoroughly turned on by it, we kissed for a while then chatted then kissed then had a dance and kissed .

I said that I had to go freshen up but that I would meet him back at the bar. When I returned to the girls Donna Megan and Sam had guys in tow. We freshened up our make up and Jackie had to buy the next shots. Sam said we had just under half an hour before taxi time and the last challenge was skin on skin, hand on fanny and/or hand on cock.

We had another shot and while the other girls went off with their partners, I went off to collect my hunk. I kissed him hello again and it developed into a full blooded snog. He suggested that we find a quiet place where we could concentrate on what we were doing. He led me by the hand until we found a booth. We settled in behind the table and started the tongue tango again. I was getting good at teasing his tongue and nipping his lips.

I felt his hand on my thigh caressing and starting to move upward he reached the bare flesh above my stockings and pleasant as the sensation was, I came to my senses enough to take his hand firmly in mine, remove it from my leg and place it on my boob. We were side by side in the booth and he was able to reach round my back and inside my dress via the low back. The feeling as he played with my nipple was wonderful. His slight stubble was a little rough on my smooth skin and he smelt very male. I knew that I could not have his hand on me so I started to explore. As I brushed the front of his trouser I could feel the bulge of his erection. I stroked it a few times through his trousers and he pressed my hand with his. His kissing became more urgent. I undid the zip of his trousers and rummaged inside. His cock sprung into my hand and free of its constriction. For the first time in my life I had my hand on a man’s cock. It was hard as iron under a soft silky skin. It was fascinating. I slowly rubbed him and he let out little sighs of pleasure. I could feel his pre cum on my fingers, lubricating my hand. I started slowly wanting to make his pleasure last. I wanted to retain control over him. Every time I felt him close I slowed down eventually I went faster and faster till he exploded over my hand. He shot streams and I was lucky that my clothes did not get covered. Not only did I have a feeling of power over him but I came just before he did. We shuddered and flopped together. Typical man, as soon as he had got his rocks off, the intensity of his kissing dropped off. I took some tissues and cleaned him up as he started to soften. His cock was lovely. It was the same length and a little thicker than mine used to be. His glans was a beautiful shape and definitely larger than mine. I had never really thought of a cock as a beautiful object before, but it was.

He asked me if we could either go back to my place or his, he was disappointed when I said that I was going home with my friends. He pestered me to agree to a date with him and I said that I would think about it. We exchanged phone numbers and after one last snog it was taxi time.

All four of the others looked as though they had a bit of stubble burn, all had lips that looked well used. I supposed that I must look the same. Donna said that she was taking her hunk home and was going to jump his bones all night.

The other four of us were laughing and joking as we got into the taxi. The first question was whether the last challenge had been achieved. Jackie said that she had been fingered by an expert. He had got her to orgasm twice. He was definitely potential for a return match. She could well give him a call. Megan said that her one was a rat, a hunk of a sexy rat, but a rat none the less. He had made no secret that he was married and that his wife was visiting her sister. He was pressing hard for her to go home and have sex in the marital bed. She could feel he was well endowed when we were dancing and she had already had a feel. When they found a quiet place he made no bones about getting his old man out. She had been prepared to be pissed off about his behaviour, but when she saw the cock it was beautiful and substantial. She had an overwhelming urge to kiss it so she did and ended up giving him a blow job. Did she swallow? No I let it dribble out on his trousers. He was a mess. It served him right. Even then he was suggesting that I became his bit on the side. His cock was lovely but not that lovely. Had she come? Oh yes she had come earlier on the dance floor. He had been caressing her clit as they snogged. Very satisfactory.

What about Sam? Skins both ways, she had been expertly manipulated by her partner and had come two times, she had reciprocated but had been a little disappointed with the size and quality of his todger. She hadn’t been tempted in the slightest to give him a blow job. He had been a bloody good kisser though and he really knew how to fondle a girls breasts. Her nipples had had a fine workout that evening. Did she want to see him again? No not even for a good snog. His nipple technique was tempting but overall no.

Ok what about Jen? Yes I had made my man come. I had no other option like the rest of them. What was his like? Rather beautiful and so silky and like iron as well. Did he come copiously? Oh yes I thought he would never stop. Did you come? Yes. Did you blow him at all? No. Were you tempted? The thought did cross my mind. Did I want to see him again? Did I? Of course not, but the idea tickled.

We were then into ratings.

Hunkiness: Sam 8
Jackie 7
Megan 8
Me 8
Movement Sam 6
Jackie 8
Megan 7
Me 7
Snogging Sam 9
Jackie 8
Megan 8
Me 9
Breast technique Sam 8
Jackie 7
Megan 9
Me 9
Finger technique Sam 8
Jackie 10
Megan 7
Me no score
Cock size Sam 6
Jackie 8
Megan 9
Me 8
Cock beauty Sam 5
Jackie 7
Megan 9
Me 8
Total shagability Sam 7
Jackie 7
Megan 8
Me how do I judge? I am not shagable. But if I was 8

The whole evening I had not been jealous. I had not been mad at Sam for playing with men. I had not worried when she snogged men, was fingered and played with their cocks. It may have been very different if there had been a chance of her going to bed with someone else, but rightly or wrongly, that worry had not crossed my mind. I had been one of the girls that night, acting outrageously and having fun.

We dropped the two girls off, got home and fell into each others arms on the sofa.

“Did you enjoy that Jen?”

“Yes that was one hell of a buzz. It was fun being bad and letting my hair down. I know it was wrong to egg each other on but it was fun.”

“How did it feel having men lusting after you?”

“Strange but fun.”

“Was it nice having breasts for a man to play with?”

“Yes, it was driving me crazy as he played with my nipples. I wanted him to kiss and suck them. It was the first time that I have been really pleased to have breasts.”

“What was the snogging like?”

“At first I was reluctant but as soon as I just accepted that I was a girl, then it became exciting.”

“How was your first cock?”

“Surprisingly beautiful, I had never thought that cocks could be beautiful.”

“Did you think of sucking his cock?”

“The thought did cross my mind.”

“If you had been physically able, do you think you would have contemplated shagging him?”

“I don’t know.”

“What was it about his maleness that you found attractive?”

“His smell, his strength, the hardness of his muscles, the softness of his lips, the beauty of his cock but most of all his lust for me, it made me feel powerful.”

“Welcome to the world of women, girl.”

We were silent and cuddled for a while.

“Sam, how often do you have girls nights out?”

“Not often, only on very special occasions.”

“Are they always that raunchy?”

“Sometimes a little less, but generally the same or worse.”

“How often does it end up in bed with a stranger?”

“What people do on girl’s night out stays on girl’s night out. No tales.”

That left me with a slight nagging doubt. Sam told me that she was still feeling so horny that if someone did not shag her in the next ten minutes then she would have to go out hunting for a man. I duly obliged as often as I could. We slept the sleep of the dead but when I awoke in the morning I was very conflicted as to whether I felt like a man or a woman.

When I told Sam how I was feeling, she cuddled me for a while and told me that for now I needed to be a woman. Any time that I felt masculine and wanted to give her a good seeing to, I was more than welcome. She said that she understood exactly how I felt. She was having difficulty seeing me as a man. I no longer smelt like one, felt like one, or acted like one. I may have gathered from the night before that she was extremely heterosexual and related totally to men.

She said that we had no choice but to continue down the road we were on. She loved me totally and whatever happened we would stay partners. She wanted us to bring up a family as mother and father, but, if there was no other choice, as mother and mother.