Bunny Boy, Betsy Boss, and the Butch and Bitch Bistro

By

Pamela

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It's pretty funny but my three best friends, who I've grown up with since childhood are named Tom, Dick, and Harry. We've had a lot of laughs over the years because of that. A funny coincidence. The four of us are now in our twenties, still single, still living in the same town and we're getting on with our lives. My name is Blake and I share a two-bedroom apartment with Harry while Tom and Dick share their own apartment. We're always dating women. Relationships coming and going all the time. It just so happens that right now, the four of us are between girlfriends and over beers one night in our favorite tavern, Tom said that he had seen an ad for a "Ladies Club" that was hiring new male "Dancers."

"By dancers they mean strippers, right?" Harry said.

"For sure."

"What are you suggesting?" Dick said.

"That the four of us apply for jobs there. We'd be up on the stage doing pole dances, flexing our muscles, and surrounded by women screaming and stuffing money into our speedos. That seems like a great new experience. Doesn't it?"

Dick, Harry, and I laughed at how preposterous the idea sounded. "Imagine us like Chippendales in a strip club," I said.

"I'm serious," Tom said. "The money is fantastic."

"What kind of men are they looking for?" Dick said.

"The ad says no experience is necessary. They'll train us to fit into their clientele. Once you make it past a probationary period, you can make big bucks and develop a following of women who seek you out."

"Well, I think we should do it," Dick said. "I'm in!"

Tom and Harry agreed also and then I really had no choice except to say that I'm also in. My hesitancy came from the fact that I have no interest in flexing muscles and acting like I'm some sort of hunk. Of course, I'm not a hunk. It's actually pretty hard to see my bicep when I flex my arm and if anything, I have "Girl arms," according to some of the women that I've dated in the past.

Tom, Dick, and Harry in contrast to me are pretty muscular. The three of them, way more than me, work out in the local gym and have discernable abs and noticeable arm muscles. Their thighs and calves are also pretty strong. Me on the other hand am slender and kind of graceful, perhaps a little underweight. The guys have never teased me about my not being quite as masculine as they are because they’re nice guys and just not into that kind of bullshit. I'd say Tom is the most muscular, then Dick and then Harry and then, of course, me.

I've kept a secret from Tom, Dick, and Harry for as long as I've known them. When we were little boys, I'd go outside and play ball or tag or any other games with them. But I would also, when the opportunity presented itself, dress myself up in my mom's clothes. I loved her underwear and her dresses and makeup. I loved lying on her bed wearing her bra and girdle and getting lost in a fantasy where I was her daughter. It was a lot of fun.

When I crossed into puberty, my now functioning sexual penis became an additional part of my dressing up days. Lying on the bed dressed in my mom's clothes, I'd switch my mind to a fantasy where I was a girl and then my hand would find my penis and after some artful maneuvering I'd squirt into a paper-towel. I felt some guilt, but as much as I loved these kind of dalliances, I was also quite willing and happy to hang out with Tom, Dick, and Harry and we spent a lot of time doing what teenage boys do together.

I'm not bad looking and I never had too much trouble finding girls willing to date me, though I do think my lack of obvious masculinity has had a negative effect on being able to keep my relationships going. I've never been aggressive in initiating sex with girls. I've actually always sort of waited for them to take the lead. I've always been too afraid to initiate a kiss or reach out to touch a breast lest I find that they don't want me to touch them. Let them begin kissing me and then I'm happy to let them bring me in closer and touch them. Of course, on those occasions where I might be allowed to pet them, I’d be hard put to say which I liked more: getting to feel their breasts or getting to touch their bra.

***

Tom contacted the club and arranged an interview for the four of us on a Friday afternoon. When we entered the club, we looked around and saw the layout. A large hall with many tables and in the center a raised stage with several silver poles coming down from the ceiling to the floor. To one side there was swinging doors leading to another room with a large lit-up sign saying, "Butch and Bitch Bistro." A woman walked up to us saying she was the manager, "Bonnie," that Tom had spoken to on the phone. She had blonde hair piled up on her head, long dangly earrings and a no-nonsense manner which was reflected in her somewhat stocky and firm build. She did not seem like the type of woman that one would want to get in a conflict with.

Bonnie looked us over casually and said, "Okay, you're all decent specimens." She handed us each a speedo and directed us to a changing room where we were to take off our clothes and put on our speedos. "When you're dressed come out here and let us look you over."

In the locker room Harry said, "This is so funny. I can't imagine that we're all doing this."

"Wearing speedos in front of the ladies!" Tom said laughing.

Tom, Dick, and Harry quickly took off their clothes and for the first time since high school locker room I saw their penises. Their cocks had certainly matured a bit since then and as far as that goes they were each pretty well endowed. I had seen them at the beach not too long ago, so I was familiar with their muscular physiques and their very typical amounts of chest, leg, and arm hair.

For myself, I think it's safe to say that my penis is as big as theirs but my physique is neither muscular nor hairy in any sense. I do have a little patch of hair in the center of my chest and some leg hair. I put on my speedo like Tom, Dick, and Harry were doing and then we filed out of the room. Each of us was a bit self-conscious and used our hands to sort of hide the bulging fronts of our speedos. It was kind of amazing how it seemed like our penises were made very obvious by wearing nothing but a speedo.

Bonnie came over to us and we saw that she was now accompanied by a half-dozen women. They were each in their own way intimidating. They wore sexy tight outfits that showed off their breasts and rear-ends and they were definitely attractive, though the kind of women that none of us tended to date because they were obviously much cooler than we were. The women eyed us carefully. Each one of them gazed at our faces and then their eyes lowered down slowly and stopped at our speedos and then moved down to our feet. I felt like I was a chicken hanging in a butcher shop. My speedo was all the defense I had from the women knowing me in an intimate way.

Bonnie came up to Tom and said, "Who are you?"

"I'm Tom."

The women gathered around Tom and Bonnie said, "Make a muscle."

Tom flexed his biceps which popped out forming an impressive show of strength. "Try some different poses." Tom went from pose to pose showing off his body while the women felt his muscles and poked at him. "That's enough," Bonnie said. She tapped on the bump formed by his penis in his speedo and said to the women, "Decent, don't you think?"

One by one the women examined the front of his speedo. A couple of the women tapped on his cock the way that Bonnie had done. One of the women said, "It could be a bit bigger."

"He could always stuff it," Bonnie said. "Tom, I've got to check your balls . Hold steady."

Bonnie pulled Tom's speedo down and then lifted up his cock so she could see his balls. One of the women put her hand underneath his balls and lifted them up and down as if weighing them.

"Decent heft and size. They're nice balls."

"Good," Bonnie said, "Now turn around, Tom."

Tom turned around and the women examined his naked butt. They took turns spanking it lightly. "Nice feel to it," one of the women said. Bonnie pulled Tom's speedo back up and they looked at the butt some more.

"Okay, Tom, thanks." Bonnie now turned to Dick and she and the other women did the same inspection of him that they had done to Tom. In his case they took an inordinate amount of time discussing the bulge in his speedo which was somewhat bigger than Tom's. Apparently, if I understood the conversation, they were considering ways of putting it in the spotlight during shows. When they were done with Dick they turned their attention to Harry and in his case they seemed very much smitten with his butt. They had him bend over with his hands on the ground and they pulled down his speedo and rubbed his butt cheeks. The women had him stand with his legs wide apart and told him to swing his penis and balls like a pendulum. Harry did what they asked and the ladies watched as his member swung back and forth and then around in circles and then front and back.

Bonnie then reached down and held Dick’s balls and said, “I consider these to be big balls .” The other girls came and held them one by one and as they did so, Tom, Dick and I could see that Harry’s dick was slowly becoming a boner. Bonnie noticed it and she held his cock up which we could see was lengthening as she spoke. “Look ladies, he’s got quite a nice boner. This is an attractive dick. Nice girth and length. Balls are big and well situated.” I’m sure I’ve never seen Harry with such a big smile on his face. Bonnie then pulled up the speedo so it captured Harry’s penis. It looked like the fabric was being tortured as it stretched out to cover his member. She said, “Now that’s the kind of tenting action that riles up the ladies. Thanks, Harry, All good."

Harry rejoined Tom and Dick with his boner still popping out the front of his speedo. I had to admit it was quite an impressive display for women who liked that sort of thing. The women now turned to look at me. There was some discussion and Bonnie said, "Make a muscle."

I raised my arms up and squeezed my hands toward my shoulders trying to get my bicep to pop up like the way that the other guys had done. I stood like that and Bonnie repeated herself, "Okay Blake, you can start flexing your bicep."

"I am flexing it," I said.

One of the women came next to me and said, “Can’t you make a muscle? Do you know how to make a muscle?” She flexed her arm and a bicep showed up that was as big as Harry’s.

“I’m really trying,” I said.

The woman used her hand to squeeze my bicep and said to Bonnie, “It’s soft. I don’t think he even has a muscle there.”

“I’m sure I can get a muscle,” I said, sounding kind of desperate.

“It’s okay,” Bonnie said. “Don’t feel bad. Forget about it.” She pulled down my speedo and looked at my dick. “Impressive. You also have quite a nice-looking dick. You’re going to fit in really well in the B and B Bistro. Exactly the kind of guy we’re looking for there. But before we get you men situated, I want to show the girls something important.”

Bonnie directed Tom, Dick, and Harry to line up in a row, pull their speedo's down to their knees and flex their biceps. Harry’s boner had disappeared while the ladies had been considering me. When the three men were standing together in a line, Bonnie said to the other women, "These three are a perfect example of what I've been saying for a long time. Notice that as their biceps get smaller going from Tom to Dick to Harry, at the same time their cocks are getting bigger! It seems to be almost always true that the bigger the muscles a guy has the smaller his cock is. It’s as if his body can either put all its energy into his muscles or into his cock, but not both. I wish I knew why that was true - it seems so counter intuitive."

"But what about, Blake?" one of the women said. "He's got no muscles, but his cock is about the same size as Dick or Harry's."

"You're right. It's not an exact rule, but it's pretty much true. Lots of luck finding me a muscle-bound guy with a big dick.. Anyway, you three men, Tom, Dick, and Harry, have muscles we can live with and dicks we can live with. So I’ll be sending the three of you to work with Becca over here." Becca raised her hand so they could see who she was. "She's in charge of training you for the main hall. She and a few other ladies will be your coaches. They'll show you how to make your bodies presentable. They'll teach you how to move on the platform and interact with the customers. They’ll teach you how to strip down to your speedos."

"What about Blake?" Tom said.

"Your friend here is a good fit for the Butch and Bitch Bistro. He won't do well on the main stage where the ladies are turned on by guys with nice muscles. Masculine men. Lucky for Blake, not all women are turned on by real men. Many women don't dig high testosterone guys. They're looking for a different kind of man. While they want the guy to have a dick they otherwise don’t want him to be masculine. They’d rather take on the male role themselves. They want to be the ones with the muscles and they want the guy to be submissive and feminine. They like having power over a guy with a dick. The weaker the guy the better. As we all have seen, Blake is delightfully weak. Just look at his girl arms. There’s not a muscle to be seen in them. He’s in many ways more feminine than masculine. By the time we’re done getting him ready to perform, he’ll be a girl with a dick. His own mother will think that she has a daughter.”

“I can’t believe you’d talk to our buddy like that!” Tom said. “Come on, Blake, I think we’ve heard enough.”

“I value loyalty to one’s friends,” Bonnie said. “but there’s nothing I said that is untrue. Ask Blake what he thinks.”

I had been mesmerized by Bonnie’s description of me. The thought that a nice strong women would take on the man’s role with me was exciting to hear. But when Bonnie indicated that I’d get to be the girl in the relationship I could barely reign in my delight. Everyone was looking at me and I said, “You guys are great. You’re the best friends a guy has ever had, but look at me. I don’t think my bicep is even visible, just like Bonnie says. If they think that I can make good money taking the part of a girl, well, it’s just acting, isn’t it? I won’t really be a girl, will I?”

“I suppose not,” Tom said.

“I don’t think we should miss out on this opportunity. All Bonnie is saying is that I have to dress like a girl to be in the B and B Bistro. It’s a costume, right? I can deal with it. It doesn’t freak me out.”

“You also have to act like a girl,” Dick said.

“It’s acting. Lots of men take on the parts of women. In Shakespeare many did.”

The four of us guys huddled together and I swore up and down to Tom, Dick, and Harry that we would all be foolish to give up this great opportunity because Bonnie thought I had to work in the B and B Bistro.

We went back to Bonnie and said, “Okay. The four of us are in.”

“You’re not making a mistake,” Bonnie said. “We’ll take good care of your little Blake and we’ll make sure that he prospers in the B and B Bistro. Now, however, I need the four of you to sign our standard contract. You'll be paid $500 a week during training for three weeks and then you get a 50-50 cut with the house on tips which can be ten times that on a good night."

The four of us went to the office and signed the contracts. After we signed we went our different ways. I walked over to the Butch and Bitch Bistro and entered through the swinging door. Five ladies were waiting for me. Three of them I recognized from the group that had been examining us previously.

I felt somewhat intimidated by the women since they were sexier and prettier and more self-assured than the women I more typically hung out with. A couple of them were quite buxom and I felt the same stab of jealousy that I always felt around such women. For as long as I can remember, the moment I see a buxom woman I envy her. I think how much nicer life would be if I had breasts like hers to carry around with me. Having them nestled in a pretty bra would be the be all and end all of happiness and contentment. Unlike my usual frustration, this time, if Bonnie was telling me the truth, I felt hopeful that I might actually get my own breasts as part of my make over to look like a girl. If they were going to do that to me, then there was a chance they would give me substantial breasts. Well, if the truth be told, any breasts would be okay. Going from no breasts to having breasts was more important than the actual size of the breasts that I had.

The women were looking me over and I was mindful of the fact that I was almost naked in my speedo. By some process, these women were going to make me look like a girl, possibly like one of them. They were wearing sexy dresses, any one of which I would have liked to wear. I stared at them carefully taking in the details of their clothing and appearance. The thought that I might end up looking like a girl in the same way that they looked like girls caused me to feel like I was dreaming. Life could never be this good, could it? Would I be wearing a bra? Would they put me in a dress? What about stockings and a garter belt and panties? Oh my God I thought – lipstick also. And I’ll get my hair done. What about jewelry and high heels? I’m sure that I’ve never been this excited in my entire life. I felt like I might faint and a surge of desire to be a girl like them enveloped my mind. I prayed that nothing would intervene to prevent the girls from turning me into one of them. I felt my heart pounding in my chest when one of the women said, “I’m Brenda and I’ll be in charge of your makeover.”

“Really? You’re really going to make me over?”

She looked at me oddly. “You’re sure you want to go through with this?”

“Oh, yeah, sure.”

“No qualms. No regrets. No fears?”

“What do you mean?”

“Many of the men that we train for the B and B Bistro are not too happy about having to dress like girls. They’re embarrassed about their feminization and they really never come to like it very much. Guys like that don’t last very long in the B and B Bistro.”

“I don’t think I’m going to be embarrassed.”

“Good. Very good. First thing is I’ll leave you with Barbara who will take care of your mani-pedi needs.”

Barbara introduced herself to me and said she’d be working on my finger and toenails. I sat down facing her and she had me prop my feet up on a small table. “You’re shaking like a leaf,” Barbara said.

“I am?”

“Why are you so nervous?”

“I’m not nervous. I don’t think I’m nervous.”

“There’s nothing to worry about. I trim and buff your nails and then apply polish. So relax.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize.”

I watched as Barbara worked on getting my toenails ready to apply nail polish. When she was done she said, “Now we need to pick out a shade of polish for your finger and toenails. Any ideas?” She pointed to a tray containing many vials of nail polish in different colors.

A bottle of pink polish leapt out at me and I knew that was the one I wanted. I blushed intensely and said, “I guess the pink polish?”

Barbara laughed. “The most girly of the shades. That’s fine with me. So that’s the kind of girl you want to be? Very girly?”

“Very girly?”

“You know. Sort of like a Barbie doll. A girl who likes to be pretty and feminine.”

I hesitated afraid that Barbara would make fun of me and she said, “Look Blake. I’ve seen all kinds of guys work in the B and B Bistro. If you want to be girly, I won’t be criticizing you.”

“Okay, I guess you’re right. I’m probably always going to pick the most girly option if you give me a choice.”

“Fine, Blake. I’ll let the other girls know your preference.”

My imagination started running away with me. What ways could I choose to make myself look more like the pretty girl I craved to be in my mind? Living with Harry had put a major dent in opportunities to lie about pretending I was a girl. I did have a bra and panty safely hidden away that I had taken from the lost and found bin in a laundromat, but my main opportunity to dress up came on my infrequent trips to visit my mom. My dad had passed away a few years ago and my mom had moved to Florida. When I visited her, at least one night during my stay with her she would go off to play bridge at a friend’s apartment. As soon as I was alone I’d play my dress up game with her clothing. I was particularly happy that she had never gotten rid of her girdles which had over the years become classic vintage styles that were no longer for sale. I loved wearing these old-fashioned bras and girdles and lying on her bed imagining that I was a real girl. And now, the club was making me over into a pretty girl and even paying me for the chance to do so. Even better, Tom, Dick, and Harry would only think I was dressing like a girl because the club wanted me to. I could have my cake and eat it too!

When Barbara was done with my toenails, she buffed up and cleaned my fingernails. She attached long faux fingernails to my fingers which she then painted the same pink color as my toenails. I suddenly now had girls’ toenails and long exotic fingernails. “Eventually your fingernails will grow out and the faux nails will become optional.”

“Not all girls have such long fingernails,” I said.

“Right, but we give you long fingernails so that you’re now immediately confronted with having to move your hands the way a girl does. With those fingernails you can’t grasp and hold things like a man. It just won’t work. So you have to move your arms and hands much more delicately and gracefully – like the same way a girl does. I want you to be self-aware at all times that you have girl fingernails – so move your hands accordingly.”

“I’ll try.” I brought my hand to my head to adjust my hair and found that if I didn’t consciously think about how my hand was moving, I would poke my scalp with a nail and it hurt.

“Now I’m going to pass you off to Betty who’s going to take care of that hair of yours.”

Barbara introduced me to Betty. “Blake wants to be girly,” Barbara said.

“I think I can arrange that,” Betty said. Barbara left and Betty put me in a tub of soapy, bubbly water after she told me to remove my speedo. Then she shaved off all my hair from the neck down. Most especially, she shaved my underarms, chest, leg, and pubic hair. I was amazed the way that Betty tenderly moved my penis and balls into different positions so that she could shave around them. The end result was weird since my penis lacked its usual island of pubic hair. When she was done, Betty dried my hair and then fit me with a magnificent wig that framed my face with long strands of a pretty light brown hair with some blonde streaks. “This is a very pretty look for you, Blake.” She held up a mirror for me to see my face framed by the hair. “When your own hair grows out, you won’t need the wig and we can revisit getting you a girly haircut.”

Betty passed me on to Brittany who was a genius at applying makeup. She studied my face for a few minutes and then expertly applied makeup that feminized my face and even made me look pretty. “For the first few weeks, I’ll have to intervene with your makeup until you get the hang of it. It will take you some time to understand how to do it correctly, but I’m sure that eventually it’ll become second nature to you.” Brittany put together a collection of makeup in a cloth case with a zipper and said, “Everything you need is in here. Bring it with you each time you come to the club.”

After Brittany, a woman named Bridgette took over. “I’m in charge of your figure. Barbara says you prefer to look girly. I can do girly with a small chest or girly with a large one. Which do you prefer?”

“You mean I could have large breasts or small breasts?”

“Yes, exactly. Which do you want?”

“Large breasts please.”

“Are D cup breasts okay?”

“Yeah, but do you have any larger?”

“There’s DD?”

“I’d love to be DD.”

“Then DD it is.” She took some measurements of me and went off someplace and came back holding some lingerie and a box. “Here are our most girly pink panties, a matching pink bra and matching pink garter belt. Lots of lace, ruffles, and bows. Put on the panties and garter belt.” I did as she said and then she asked, “Do you need help with the bra?”

“No, I know how to do that.”

“Most boys don’t have a clue how to put on a bra. Have you been wearing bras?”

I now realized that I should have been more circumspect. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Your mom’s?”

“How did you know?”

“You seem like the kind of boy that would be wearing their mom’s or their sister’s clothes. You’re envious of your mom getting to wear girls clothes, aren’t you?”

“Man, it’s like you know me too well.”

“Among the boys that Bonnie sends in here, I’ve seen a bunch over the years that are like you. You’re secretly happy that we’re dressing you up in girls clothes. Aren’t you? It’s so often the girly ones. You can’t get enough girly can you?”

“I guess not.”

“The women in the B and B Bistro are going to go crazy over you. They love girly boys. My advice to you is to behave as girly as you possibly can. The more girly you are, the more women will shower you with money. They love guys of your ilk. By being effeminate, you’ll excite in them their need to dominate men.”

“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.”

I put on the bra and then Bridgette opened the box and took out a pair of DD cup silicon breast forms. She applied some kind of glue and arranged them carefully on my chest so they were then held nicely by the bra. She was expert in using some makeup to make the breasts look natural where they attached to my chest. Then she got some black stockings and helped me on with those and attached them to the garter belt. “I’ll bet that you’re in seventh heaven right now,” Bridgette said. “All dressed up in sexy lingerie and feeling like you have breasts. Is it your first time with breasts?”

“Oh, yeah. I’ve never had breast forms. I’d sometimes stuff my mom’s panties in my bra cups.”

Bridgette laughed. “You boys are a trip. Actually, I can see how boys can get overwhelmed by their mom’s sexuality. As a small kid you worship your mom and then you become envious of their wearing bras and panties. Is that how it goes?”

“Sort of. I just remember always wanting to be like my mom. She was sort of like a hero to me. And then one day it occurred to me that if I wore her clothes it would allow me to pretend that I was like her. It’s so great to feel like you’re a girl.”

“I’m a girl,” Bridgette said, “but I don’t feel like it’s especially wonderful. I like being a girl, but it’s just who I am. Nothing to jump up or down about.”

“But what if you wanted to be a boy?”

“I can’t imagine that. Carrying a dick around with me. Yuck. I like dicks, but having one sticking out of me seems gross I’m sorry to say.”

“To tell you the truth I sort of feel the same way as you do,” I said.

“So you like dicks on other guys, and wish you didn’t have one yourself?”

“I’ve actually never really thought about that.”

“I’m just messing with you. You’ll meet all kinds of women in the B and B Bistro, maybe even some guys who’re looking for a femme with a dick. Just don’t do anything you don’t want to do and you’ll be okay.”

“Thanks Bridgette.”

“Now Brenda will finish your girly look.”

Bridgette escorted me back to Brenda, who said, “Nice girly underwear, Blake. You feminize well. It’s going to be crazy in the B and B Bistro when you’re first introduced. I don’t think we’ve had a dancer as cute as you are in quite a while.”

“Thank you, Brenda.”

“The last thing is I’ll show you some dresses you can wear. Typically you put on underwear such as you have on now, and then wear a dress. You also might have gloves on, a hat and maybe a boa around your neck so that you’ll start your striptease by slowly removing these things and then your dress. The idea is to tantalize the audience. Once you’re down to your heels, stockings, garter belt, panties, and bra, it’s up to you what happens next. We don’t mind if you want to end up naked. It’s all legal. In case you’re wondering, your breasts will stay on without your bra, so when you’re naked the ladies will still see you as a girl with a dick which is what they want. Of course, don’t show your whole dick too early. You can let them see glimpses of just a part of it to help whoop them up. Once your cock is totally visible, what else will you have to wow them with? Stripping is an art form. You capture the imaginations of your audience until they’re more excited than they ever would have imagined they would be. You can imitate the other strippers you see – that’s one way to learn quickly. But you should try and develop your own style. Find out what makes the ladies scream loudest for you and work on that.”

“I’ll do my best. What kind of dress will I wear?”

“Let me take you to the wardrobe room. You can wear any dress you see, as long as it fits you. We’ve got a lot of them.” I followed Brenda into a room and I looked around seeing many racks of dresses. One rack, in particular, had what Brenda called the girly dresses and I gravitated toward it. It contained the kinds of dresses that I had dreamed about for years. Pastel shades of pink, blue, yellow, violet, and white. Wide skirts. A whole collection of crinolines. “So you see, Blake, put on a crinoline or two. Pick out a pretty dress. When you strut out onto the stage you’ll take off your dress and crinolines slowly and seductively. So now go ahead and pick out an outfit.”

I reached for an especially pretty pink dress with a full skirt and then chose three crinolines to go with it. “Three crinolines?” Brenda said. She helped me on with the dress and then I stepped into the crinolines. My skirt was puffed out almost sideways over the crinolines.

I was on automatic pilot now. The intensity with which I was driven to wear the pretty dress could no longer be contained. Everything about being dressed up like a girl was landing exactly into a place that my soul had been longing to visit for ages and ages. A surge of feminine feelings overwhelmed me. I felt an insane desire to act like a girl and I felt my muscles fade away and my body soften and relax until I was sure that both inside and out I had become a girl. Brenda said, “You seem like a fish returned to water. You’re positively glowing with happiness and femininity. If you can keep up this sweet, innocent, pretty girl act on stage, you’re going to be a mega-hit.”

The five women who had helped my transformation came over to take a look at the end result. Brenda got me some spike heels to wear and I put them on. “I’m so shaky!” I said.

“You’ll adjust to them pretty quickly. You’re so cute like that anyway. Isn’t Blake darling?”

“She’s very sexy! Bonnie is going to love her,” Betty said.

“We haven’t had a boy this pretty in quite a while. The butch girls are going to eat him alive!” Barbara said.

I remembered that one wall of the B and B Bistro was covered in mirrors and I walked out to it wobbling on my heels to take a look at myself. When I saw my image I was overcome with excitement. The girl I had always wanted to pretend to be was staring at myself in the mirror. I was feminine and girly. The way the dress was all puffed up reminded me of a princess in a Disney movie. I admired the cute shoes, my full and rounded chest, and my luxurious hair. The women came up behind me to look and I said, “What about jewelry. Can I have earrings and some bracelets?”

“Of course.” Barbara went to fetch some from the wardrobe room and she returned with several golden bands that I put on my wrist.

“The earrings are clip-ons. I assume your ears are not pierced.”

“They aren’t, but I’m going to have to get that done.” I would definitely get that done this coming week when I had a chance.

“The last thing is we have to give you a stage name. I’m thinking ‘Bunny Boy.’”

“Bunny Boy?”

“Yes. It’s cute and I think it well describes who you are.”

The other women agreed with Brenda and so I was to be officially known as Bunny Boy in the Butch and Bitch Bistro.

“Let’s show you off to everyone. Come with us,” Brenda said. She and the other women escorted me back to the main room in the club. I walked as best I could on the heels. It hadn’t occurred to me that Tom, Dick, and Harry would see me, but the three of them, still dressed in speedos, were up on the stage being instructed on how to swing on the poles. The women working with them stopped what they were doing and they together with Bonnie came over to look at me.

“Bonnie, meet Bunny Boy.”

Bonnie laughed and said, “ Bunny Boy? I love it! Oh my oh my, I’ve never seen so many crinolines on a girl.” She took one of my hands in hers. “You have very pretty fingernails, a lovely shade of pink and your hands and arms are so sweet and delicate.” Her eyes took me in from head to toe. She chuckled to herself and said, “A little extreme on the crinolines, but I do love the look. I think you’re the prettiest girl we’ve ever had in the B and B Bistro. You have a sultry and sexy presence. You look like that kind of delicate girl that men are very much drawn to. A female presence which is completed by a manly man.”

Tom, Dick, and Harry had stopped what they were doing to look at me. “Don’t tell me that that’s Blake,” Tom said.

I waved to them. They got off the stage and walked over to look me over. Dick said, “Holy shit, Blake. They turned you into a girl!”

“Those fingernails are incredible,” Harry said, “and your figure. They give you those boobs?”

Instead of feeling embarrassed, I was so excited and happy about being a girl that I was able to stay fully in the part of a beautiful girl. I looked at Tom, Dick, and Harry, coyly and said in an imitation girl’s voice, “Yes. Brenda and the other ladies are so expert. They’ve made me into a beauty!”

“It’s amazing. This is what the women in the B and B Bistro like?” Harry asked Bonnie.

“They sure do. Your friend here is going to become very popular among the butch crowd.”

Bonnie said, “You girls have done an amazing job on Blake.”

While the women talked among themselves, I said to Tom, Dick, and Harry, “What have you been learning?”

“So far mainly how to use the pole to swing around.” Tom said.

“Let’s show him the booty shake that they taught us,” Dick said.

Tom, Dick, and Harry lined up facing away from me and then together they shook their rear ends. It was a bizarre sight and I had to laugh. “Becca says the ladies will go wild. Also we shake our hips and act like we’re tossing our junk around and the women will throw money at us.”

“Besides looking like a girl, what are you supposed to do on the stage?” Harry asked me.

“So far they only told me that I’m supposed to be a girl doing a striptease.”

“Do you know how to act like a girl?”

“That’s hard to say. Brenda said they’re going to train me to act like a girl. They gave me these fingernails because they make me move my hands the way a girl does.” I demonstrated how I had been learning to very gently touch things so as not to scratch them.

“They gave you an unbelievable chest.”

“Yeah, DD cup breasts.”

“You’re wearing a bra?”

I nodded my head. Tom said, “There’s no way I’d ever wear a bra. That’s way too much out there for me.”

“Me too,” Dick and Harry said.

“I don’t know what to say,” I said, feeling like I had gone too far.

“Don’t take it that way. We’re probably a lot less secure in our masculinity than you are. You can wear a bra and not be weirded out because you’re confident in your being a boy.”

“Yeah, that must be it,” I said, though I knew that that wasn’t quite the truth. The fact was that I wasn’t bothered by wearing a bra because I was confident of my femininity. It was a way of proving to myself that I was a girl.

“You’ll probably make more money than we do,” Tom said, “so you’re lucky that you get to be in the B and B Bistro.”

“Well, I hope I do make some good money.”

***

Two hours later I was nervously waiting in the wings with Brenda. When the stripper ahead of me was done, I watched as Brenda walked out onto the stage. “Hello ladies! This is a very special night for the Butch and Bitch Bistro! We have a brand-new bitch for you! She’s the prettiest boy that we’ve seen here in years. I also have heard from a reliable source that there are some amazing goods hidden inside her pretty little dress – that just might come out if you’re nice! So lick your lips ladies, and give a rooty toot toot Butch and Bitch welcome to Bunny Boy!”

Brenda waved for me to join her on the stage. I slowly walked out on my stiletto heels with my arms resting lightly on my voluminous skirts. I saw that the stage was surrounded on three sides with some of the toughest and most imposing women I had ever seen. The lights focused on the stage were bright enough for me to see their faces. I felt like I must be chocolate cake to them – the intensity with which their expressions suggested that they hungered for me. Catcalls filled the air and when I got to Brenda she held my hand. She used her open other hand in a sweeping gesture to indicate me as if I were a prized animal. I looked down at one imposing woman and I saw her mouthing the words “I love you,” over and over again. “What did I tell you ladies!” Brenda continued. “Have you ever seen a boy fill out a bra, a dress and crinolines with such beauty and sex appeal?”

The crowd roared in agreement with Brenda and then she let go of my hand and she slowly walked off the stage leaving me by myself. I don’t know why I didn’t notice it before, but a combo was playing on a little stage across the room from me. They now started up a jazzy piece that was obviously meant to get me moving. I felt helpless since I had no idea as to how I should move. All Brenda had suggested was that since this was a strip club, I needed to strip.

I walked a little one way, turned around, walked back. I held onto my skirts and swished them back and forth and up and down. I shook my rear end causing my dress to sway. A cacophony of women calling out to me accompanied everything I did. The way they were hooting at me had the effect of amplifying the degree to which I was seeing myself as a girl. All these butch women surrounding me, any one of which would be too strong for me to resist, and I could see that I was the pretty girl that they craved. They wanted to be up inside my dress and into my panties. They wanted to feel my breasts in my bra. They wanted to own me as their girlfriend. The pretty lady on their arm.

I shimmied so my breasts shook. I gathered up my skirt and crinolines and hugged them. I bent over and lifted up my skirt to show off my butt. I got more and more comfortable in the heels and began to strut like a woman, hips swaying, across the stage. Finally, I reached inside my skirt and took off one of my crinolines and walked around the stage holding it up high and enticing the audience with it. A chant went up in the crowd, “More!, More!, More!” and I then took off a second crinoline and held it and the other one aloft. The chanting increased in volume and I took off the third crinoline. Now all I had over my underwear was my dress. I raised my skirt so the crowd could see my panties and the tops of my stockings and the garter belt. Brenda had zipped me in the dress and I reached behind me and felt for the zipper. If I pulled it down then my dress would soon come off and I’d be in my underwear. I don’t know what came over me but I suddenly felt desperate to have the ladies see me in my bra and panties as if it would prove to them that I really was a girl. I undid the zipper and the crowd chanted, “Take if off! Take if off!” I lifted my dress off over my head until I was now standing in front of the women in my stiletto heels and wearing just my pink lacy underwear including stockings. I felt vulnerable and exposed in a way that I had never felt before. The customers were clothed and I was in my underwear. There was no place to hide. My breasts projected out in my bra for all the world to see that I was a girl.

A woman standing next to the stage put a five-dollar bill in the front of my panties. When I leaned over some women placed bills in my bra cups. Other women put money in the back of my panties. I walked to another part of the stage and the women there did the same. I stood center stage and unhooked my stockings from my garters and took them off, which was not easy with my long fingernails. Then I unhooked by garter belt so that I was just in my bra, panties, and heels. The women were cheering me on every step of the way.

I wasn’t sure what I ought to do next. Take off my panties or my bra? At that moment Brenda came out onto the stage with a microphone and announced “Let’s have a big hand for Bunny Boy. She’ll be back again tomorrow and Sunday.” Brenda took me by the hand and led me off the stage to the dressing room.

I collapsed into a chair to catch my breath and let my excited emotions run their course. “Very good, Bunny Boy,” Brenda said. “A good first effort. You’ll improve with time. You have a natural talent for acting like a girl. Specifically you come across with a delicate, helpless female persona. You seem like an old-fashioned, deferential, and meek girl.” Brenda went on to give me some pointers on how I could structure my appearance to that it was less disjointed. She also thought that letting one of the women pull down my panties would be a great way to close the act. “I’m scheduling you for tomorrow night and the day after. We’ll put you out a few times each night. You can either change back to Blake now or you can borrow a dress to go home in as Bunny Boy. You know where the wardrobe room is. I leave it up to you.”

“Thank you, Brenda.”

When she left I contemplated whether or not I should wear a dress home. If I was going to go back to being Blake, then I needed to do something about my nails. The faux nails were glued on, and I’d have to get them taken off and then put back on tomorrow. That seemed like a great hassle. It would be a lot easier to just stay as a girl for the night. In reality I knew that there was only one reason why I didn’t immediately decide to stay as Bunny Boy and that was fear that Tom, Dick, and Harry would dump me as their friend. Especially, Harry might be repulsed at sharing the apartment with a guy dressed like a girl.

After more thought I decided that I owed it to myself to find out if the guys objected to me being a girl. If they didn’t, then my worrying was for nothing. If they did, then I’d immediately change back to Blake. I put back on my garter belt and stockings and looked through the wardrobe until I found a light blue sheath dress that fit me well. Then I gathered up the boy clothes out of my locker and went out to the main room to see if Tom, Dick, and Harry were done performing.

I found the three guys still on the stage and having stripped down to their speedos. They were falling all over each other and swinging on the poles like monkeys. The women in the audience were doubled over in laughter watching their antics. I was amazed at the spectacle in front of me. The guys had a talent for silliness that I had never seen before and I’m sure the three of them had no idea they possessed it. I guessed that being thrust out onto a stage to strip down was so bizarre that it tapped into a heretofore hidden talent for inanity. I saw Becca walk out on stage to call an end to their performance. Tom was lying on his back with his feet hanging off the stage and women were one by one stuffing bills into the front of his speedo. Dick and Harry ran over to Becca and she chased them around the stage until they finally left. Then she came running out and grabbed Tom by his neck and he jumped up and ran off the stage as well.

I joined my friends in their dressing room where Becca was congratulating them on coming up with such a unique act. “My god, the three of you are hysterical. It’s such a refreshing change from the same old same old guys coming out and stripping. You made a pile of cash tonight.”

“I don’t know where it came from,” Tom said. “I watched Dick and Harry trying to be sexy and it was so funny that the next thing I knew we were all clowning around.”

“Well, Bonnie wants you guys to know that she’s very pleased with you. We’ll see you tomorrow night.”

When Becca left, Dick said to me, “What’s with you?”

“I’m still in my costume.”

“Are you going home like that?”

“I have to work tomorrow so I thought it would be easier to stay in costume than switch back and forth. A big problem is taking off these fingernails and then putting them back on again. Do any of you mind?”

Harry laughed, “The neighbors are going to think that you’re my girlfriend.”

“They would, except you’ve never been out with a girl that pretty,” Tom said.

It was true. Judging from what I’d seen of myself in the mirror, I was prettier and sexier and definitely better built than any girlfriend Harry had ever had.

“Well, I don’t care, Blake. Knock yourself out.”

“Yeah,” Tom said. “This day has been so topsy turvy and weird that we should just go with the flow.”

“Before today,” Dick added, “we were just four average Joes in dead end jobs and dead-end lives. Now we’re stars! Woo hoo!”

When they were dressed I walked with them to Tom’s car and he drove Harry and I back to our apartment building. I felt like I was a lady out with three gentlemen. Getting in the car in the dark I took the liberty of sitting down as if I were a real girl. It was a delicious feeling. When I entered the apartment with Harry I felt like I was his wife or girlfriend. I was dressed like any woman might be who had been out for the evening. I especially loved that I had breasts and long feminine hair and that Harry didn’t. It made me feel like I truly was on the other side of the male/female divide.

We sat down with glasses of wine to unwind before turning in. I sat on the opposite end of the sofa from Harry, and while I’ve always been turned on by women and have loved looking at their bodies and wishing I could have sex with them, right now this evening, if Harry had made a move on me, I don’t think I would have resisted. I was so totally imbued with my feeling of womanhood that I saw Harry’s manly body as being sexy. His muscles and the mystery of his penis had an allure that I had never felt before. The only explanation I could come up for these new feelings was that they were the natural result of how deeply my mind had accepted the fact that I was a girl.

After we had talked awhile, we sat in silence. I felt Harry’s eyes on me and it made sense. He could not help but see me as a very hot girl, just as the ladies at the club had seen me the same way. My arms were thin and graceful like a woman’s and with DD breast forms I could easily imagine Harry hungering after them. Even knowing that I had a penis between my legs wouldn’t stop Harry from wanting to feel up my breasts in my bra. He would find it alluring to see my legs in the stockings and my high heels and the hem of my skirt drawn across my thighs. I felt a tension in the room and I could imagine Harry getting up and moving closer to me and putting his arm over my shoulders and perhaps feeling me up. The moment passed and I got up and so did Harry and we went to our separate bedrooms. I’m sure we both thought that it was for the best that we do not take this step. The next day would be our triumphal return to the club to bask in the devotion of a multitude of horny women.

***

The next evening when Brenda put me on the stage I felt more confident than I had on my first day. I was getting pretty good with the high heels and could walk gracefully in them the same way that women did. My striptease went well and was rewarded by many bills thrust into my underwear. I enjoyed being “Eye candy” for the women in the audience. As a man, women had never found me exceptionally sexy, but now as a girl, I saw a hundred women undressing me in their minds and hoping they could get their hands on me.

Since Tom, Dick, and Harry did not seem to mind if I stayed in my girl costume overnight, I once again did not transform back to being Blake. The next night was Sunday and after that I had several days off. That would then become for me a fork in the road. I could either permanently stay as Bunny Boy or I could switch back to being Blake. I was now pretty sure that Tom, Dick, and Harry didn’t really care one way or the other. In that case, I would never change back to Blake again, which meant that I had to start thinking about getting some of my own panties, bras, dresses, and everything else a woman needs. That thought was beyond exciting.

When we were leaving the club on Sunday night, Harry volunteered without my asking him, “If you want to be a full-time girl Blake, go ahead. At the club Tom, Dick, and I have seen so many unbelievable women, some of which probably are guys, that it doesn’t seem fair for us to judge you or anyone else. Everybody on the planet has the same right to be themselves so long as they don’t trample on the lives of others. So be as much of a girl as you want to be!”

“We feel the same way,” Tom and Dick said.

“God, I love you guys,” I said, unable to stop my tears.

“And we love you,” Tom said.

“Group hug!” Dick said, and the four of us formed a huddle and hugged each other.

***

When Harry and I entered our apartment we sat down again on the sofa to unwind. The girl part of me would have loved Harry to put his arm around me and hold me like I was his girlfriend. If he had wanted to seduce me or had the nerve to do so I know that I wouldn’t have been able to resist his advances. I was feeling so feminine I could barely stand it. I saw Harry looking at me and there was definitely lust in his eyes. If he had asked me to give him a blow job at that moment I’m sure that I would have. It would have felt as normal as any woman performing the act. On the other hand, if I myself had had more nerve then I very well might have gotten to the floor at his feet and undone his belt buckle, undone his pants button, pulled down his zipper and forced his cock into view and sucked on it. But for whatever reason Harry and I remained apart and the moment passed yet again. Maybe some other day, who knew? I think what we were both thinking was what would happen after it was over? Neither of us could guarantee that we’d be glad we’d done it. It was risky to give into passion without regard for the aftermath. The nice thing as far as I was concerned was that I shared the same kind of passion that I imagined some women had, and that made me feel good.

***

In the coming month or two I fell comfortably into my new role in the lives of Tom, Dick, and Harry as their girlfriend. There was frequently flirting in the air when we were together, but all of us had enough self-control to look for other outlets for our passion. In particular, the three guys had gone on some dates with women they met at the club and while these were not leading to long term relationships, they were quite a bit of fun. The guys especially enjoyed the fact that the women saw them as sexy and were eager to have sex with them.

For myself, I had gotten more and more in touch with my inner girl to the point that I now felt comfortable shopping for women’s clothing. I had assembled a decent collection of basics, though I was still catching up to speed with typical women who knew what their favorite bra and panty styles were and which foundation garments, dresses, shoes, jewelry, and everything else they preferred. I was still in a process of discovery of all the different choices that women could make in outfitting themselves. When it was three months into my new career at the B and B Bistro, my fingernails were now long enough for Barbara to shape and harden and polish them so I no longer needed the artificial nails. In the same vein, my hair had grown out enough that Betty was able to style it similarly to the wig I had been wearing. As my hair continued to grow it would look prettier and prettier.

It was about this time that coming back to the dressing room after performing, I was greeted by a dozen red roses waiting for me. Attached to them was a card that said, “You’re pretty and lovely!” and was signed by Betsy Boss.

“Who is she?” I asked Brenda.

“I suppose technically speaking Betsy is a ‘she,’ just the way you’re a ‘he.” But she’s one powerful woman and no one messes with her, I’ll tell you that much. It’s common knowledge that Betsy Boss heads up the largest crime syndicate in the area, so I guess one could say that she’s a woman gangster. The police have never been able to pin a crime on her and she’s loaded with money. She makes huge donations to every charity in town, so I suppose the average citizen has a love/hate relationship with her. She often comes to the B and B Bistro, but she’s been away for a while in Europe, I heard. In fact, she owns a castle there. She likes pretty boys – often she can be seen with one on each arm –when she travels around. She always has a few bodyguards with her.”

“I vaguely remember hearing about her.”

“She was here last night. We had a special table for her and her retinue, perhaps you noticed them?”

“I guess I didn’t.”

“Well, I can’t say I’m surprised that she’s heard about you and the fact that you intrigue her. I wouldn’t be surprised if she invites you to her table one of these nights.”

Brenda was right, because the following week I was in my dressing room after my performance when a big, tall, guy entered and told me that Betsy Boss would love my company at her table. After checking my makeup and my outfit I followed him to Betsy. She was sitting in a booth by herself and she got up to greet me.

Betsy was a tad taller than me, with somewhat unusually broad shoulders for a woman, and wearing black leather pants, a skintight black top showing off her small breasts and men’s leather boots. Her raven black hair was combed into a masculine style, and while her face was attractive, there was an element of toughness and masculinity to it. This was a person who was used to being in charge. “I’m, Betsy. I’m glad you can join me. Come sit.”

She directed me to squeeze into the booth. With my skirts and crinolines it took some care that they didn’t end up on top of the table. Betsy slid into the booth from the other side and turned to face me.

“You’re even more beautiful in person than on the stage, if that’s possible,” Betsy said.

I blushed crimson and said, “Thank you.”

“I like boys that are pretty, and you’re the prettiest boy I’ve ever seen.”

“You’re making me blush. Thank you for the pretty roses.”

“Tell me about yourself,” Betsy said.

I told Betsy a bit about my history and how I had come to the B and B Bistro and that I really enjoyed the work and especially entertaining women by being a desirable girl. She listened attentively, but when I was done and asked her to tell me about herself, she deflected my question by telling me that she was a businesswoman and described a bit about her company. She imported electronics and children’s clothes from Asia and had been very successful. If she was a crime boss, she mentioned nothing of it.

Later she said to me, “You have the soul of a girl and I really like that. Moreover, I love your feminine vulnerability and how pretty you are. You’re the kind of girl who needs to be adored, even worshiped for your beauty.”

“That’s so sweet, Betsy. Do you plan on adoring me?”

“I already adore you. I want to take you out. When are you free?”

There was no denying that Betsy Boss was direct and assertive. “I’ve been working Friday, Saturday and Sunday nights.”

“Then I’ll see you Tuesday night for dinner. Do you have a nice evening dress?”

“What do you mean by nice?”

“If you have to ask then the answer is no.” Betsy took out a wad of money from her pocket and counted out ten one-hundred dollar bills on to the table in front of me. “Get yourself a pretty frock to wear and matching shoes.” She counted out another four hundred dollars, “And use this this to get a matching purse. Make yourself glamourous. We’re going to a 5-star restaurant.”

“Thank you, you’re so generous, but I don’t know if I can accept this.”

“Of course you can, Bunny.”

“Okay, Betsy,” I said, amazed at how she took chutzpah to a whole new level. On the other hand, I enjoyed the way that she took control of the situation. There was something about her directness that excited me and made me curious as to what else she was capable of doing. I gave Betsy my address and phone number and she told me that she’d be by on Tuesday at 8 PM. I excused myself to get ready for my next show.

***

Driving back home with the guys I told them what had happened. Dick said, “Oh my god, Bunny, you’re becoming Betsy Boss’s girlfriend. She’s a mob boss and you’re going to be owned by her.”

“Owned?”

“Damn straight. She gave you over a thousand dollars to buy clothes. Man, she bought you. If you try to get away from her, you’re going to regret it!”

“But she’s been so nice to me.”

“Yeah. As long as you do whatever she wants you to do, she’ll be nice to you. She owns you.”

“You mean the rest of my life I’m going to be owned by her?”

“No. She’ll dump you for a prettier and younger girl when she gets tired of you.”

“When will that be?”

“Who’s to say. Could be a month, could be a year, could be ten years.”

“Ten years as her girl friend?”

“Maybe.”

“If she throws any great parties, you need to invite us.”

“Yeah, I’ll see what I can do. But right now I have to go buy a dress that she’ll be happy with.”

“Go to Saks Fifth Avenue and find a saleswoman and get her to dress you up.”

“That’s a great idea.”

***

On Monday morning I went to Saks Fifth Avenue and found a saleswoman in the dress department. “My boyfriend gave me a thousand dollars and told me to get a nice dress I could wear to a fancy restaurant. Can you help me?”

“What an incredible boyfriend! Sure, we’ll find you the perfect outfit.”

“I also need a matching purse. He gave me four-hundred dollars just for that.”

“We can find you a very pretty dress and purse and you can probably throw in also some new underwear, stockings and shoes.”

We went into a dressing room where the saleswoman checked the sizes of my panties and bra and figured out my dress size. Then we went on a trip through the lingerie department, various dress departments and finally shoes, picking out parts of a total ensemble that the saleswoman conjured up for me. She then ushered me into the dressing room again and I put on the new clothes. Looking in the mirror, I admired my sexy figure in the tight-fitting light blue dress with a design of yellow streaks that the saleswoman and I had chosen. It was nice to have on a brand-new bra, panties, and a light support pull-on girdle with attached garters. I thought my matching handbag was beautiful and it had great symbolic meaning for me. It was the lynchpin that tied together my whole new life as a girl.

This adventure in couture was perhaps just a taste of what Betsy would provide for me if she really wanted to continue to see me. The more I thought about it the more I had to agree with the guys: by accepting the money and spending it on an outfit, I had sold myself to Betsy. No doubt this was just the tip of the iceberg. Against this backdrop of my moral turpitude was the absolute delight I felt in feeling pretty in a brand-new outfit. It was almost as if losing my freedom was a small price to pay for having such lovely clothes. In any event, I could see that it was pointless to spend my time thinking about such issues. The only really important thing was to be pretty for Betsy Boss in my new dress and I was sure that I was going to be successful on that front.

***

Betsy Boss came in her chauffeured limo to pick me up at the apartment. She was polite to Harry and somewhat amused by the humble surroundings. When I came out of my bedroom dressed in the new clothes, Betsy Boss was blown away. “What a beautiful dress you found. I love the whole look.” Betsy was wearing a tailored man’s suit and black shoes. She escorted me to the car and we went to the restaurant. The maître d’ and the waiters seemed to know Betsy Boss and the chef even came out of the kitchen to say hello. Betsy and I dined together at a table in a quiet corner of the restaurant. A couple of times during the dinner, Betsy’s henchmen came up to her and whispered something in her ear, and she then whispered something in their ears. I supposed it was business of some sort. I didn’t want to think that these conversations had to do with anything nefarious. Luckily, Betsy intended to keep me entirely cutoff from whatever her business interests were.

After the dinner Betsy took me home and before leaving she turned toward me in the back seat of the limo and gave me a kiss. “I want to see you again,” she said.

“And I want to see you again,” I said.

“Good.”

Betsy escorted me to my door and gave me another nice kiss. I was thrilled that she was such a gentlemen and didn’t take advantage of me.

***

Our next date was a few days later when we went to a local park and had coffee at a café. I wore a simple cotton dress and Betsy wore work jeans and a tailored man’s shirt. I thought it was pretty funny the way her bodyguards kept their distance from us, but I could also get glimpses of them from time to time. I wondered who Betsy might be afraid of. A rival gang? The police? I had no idea and I wasn’t going to bring up the subject.

I had a lot of fun walking and talking with Betsy. She was interesting and always had a lot to say. For our third date she invited me to come to her house for dinner. While our relationship was just a bit less than two weeks old, I didn’t think that Betsy was rushing things, and I gladly accepted the invitation.

***

Betsy sent the limo to fetch me to her house which turned out to be an ultra-modern swanky residence in the most exclusive area of the town. I wore the pretty dress that Betsy had bought me and she was pleased that I did. She gave me a tour of the place and when we entered the master bedroom, which was easily the size of my apartment with Harry, Betsy pointed to a pretty pink nightie lying on the bed and she said that it was a present for me. I held it up against me and admired how pretty it was. It was made of a remarkably soft material and had an inner skirt and a see-through outer skirt with little flowers. Around the chest area and covering the breasts, there were several layers of pleated material. “Thank you Betsy. How did you know that I’d love such a pretty nightgown? You have such great taste!”

It was clear that Betsy was intending that I spend the night with her. It didn’t seem to be a question of her asking me what I wanted. Before I could think if I should allow Betsy to take such liberties with me, she sat me down on a sofa in the living room and she fetched me a martini. Then she said, “You’ve probably figured out by now that I like you. Well, I do. You’ve got the kind of sexy girl-next-door pretty look that I love. I realize that I’m bossy and I haven’t even asked you whether or not you wanted to get the new dress or even spend the night here. But I figured that you should first see what your life will be like with me before you have to decide if you like it or not. So, now that you’ve seen some of how I live, I want you to feel that you’re free to walk out that door and leave. If you do, I’ll never bother you again.”

Betsy’s candor completely charmed me and whatever misgivings I might have had about her dominant personality instantly evaporated. Now that I understood that she was entirely self-aware, it drew me in even closer to her. “Oh, I don’t want to leave, Betsy. I’m loving my time with you!” I said. “Just hearing you say that I’m free to go is so cute. You’ve got to know that you’re the kind of woman that I would never want to leave. You appreciate how pretty I’ve become and that means everything to me.”

We sipped our martini’s and Betsy said, “You’re a remarkable girl, Bunny. I can do so many things for you.”

“I’m going to let you,” I said, and then we both laughed.

We had dinner and afterwards both Betsy and I could feel the nervous energy crackling between us. This time when Betsy sat me on the sofa, she poured us each a small, elegant glass of Grand Marnier, and sat very close to me. We sipped our drinks and she put an arm across my back and held me and then moved in and kissed me. At first tenderly just brushing my lips softly with hers, but then as her passion began to rise she gave me more profound and deeper kisses. She was an amazingly good kisser and if she were hoping to fully seduce me so she could have sex with me that night, she was more than successful. At the end of an especially delightful kiss while her tongue was exploring my tonsils, I said to her, “Oh my, Betsy. I might swoon from joy. I could kiss you forever.”

I heard her put down her drink and a moment later I felt her free hand resting on my thigh. I couldn’t help but notice the large bulge of her bicep as she held me. I started to get goose bumps with the thrill of her seduction and then she moved her lips into mine and initiated another long, powerful kiss. Her strong arm held me in a way that let me know that I would not be going anywhere until she would let me. I was under her power and enjoying it. Her hand slowly moved up my thigh, under my dress and onto the soft warm flesh just above my stockings. A moment later her hand had found the bulge residing in my panties. “You’re so bloody hot,” Betsy said catching her breath. Her hand reached inside my panties, encircled my rising penis, and pulled it outside the panty through the leg opening. I thought I was going to faint from excitement. Betsy then carefully coaxed my balls out underneath my cock so that now her hand could fondle the whole package. “Oh yes! I like that,” Betsy said. “You’ve got a nice stiff cock now. So perfectly thick. I love a thick dick.” Her hand had now encircled my penis and now as she kissed me and her tongue found its way around my mouth, her hand began sliding a bit up and down my cock. She collected some of the precum and used that for lubrication. The more she slid her hand, the more precum came out and then the wetter my cock. By this process her hand was now making its slow and delightful way from tip to base and back again with an ever-escalating sensation of pleasure in my penis. There was no doubt that Betsy Boss was very good at what she was doing.

Being held so firmly and powerfully by Betsy Boss while she kissed me so deliciously and stroked my penis was far and away the most delightful sexual experience I had ever had. Of course, it didn’t take long until I shot off into Betsy’s hand. She laughed and gripped my shoulders tightly while I came. It was a generous act of devotion on her part. “Thank you, Betsy, that was very nice.”

“Now shower up my pet. You’ve got your nightie. I’ll meet you in the bedroom. First I’ve got some business to take care of.”

Betsy Boss left and I went into the enormous master bedroom suite and found the shower. When I was done I dried myself on a thick pink towel that were hanging next to a blue towel. I figured that this was the way it was going to be from now on. I was Betsy’s lady and she would provide for me everything I might need. I put on the nightie and waited in bed for her to return.

An hour later Betsy Boss came back and she apologized for leaving me alone. “Let me see you in the nightie,” she said, and I got up and stood in front of her. The pink nightie came with matching panties that I was wearing. The retro styling made me look like I was within a pink cloud of gauzy fabric. “You’re giving me a boner,” Betsy Boss said, laughing. “I love your big tits,” she added and caressed them and lifted them and gave them a good squeeze. She took off her jacket, shirt and slacks and I saw to my surprise that she was wearing boy’s underwear and no bra. She pulled down her underpants and took off her undershirt and I saw that she had muscular thighs and calves besides her strong upper body and arms. Her musculature reminded me of Tom’s body. Certainly, many men would be jealous of her body. I, on the other hand, was mesmerized by her strength. It motivated me to want to take care of her, to provide a soft feminine presence in her life. To be as pretty as I could be so that she’d be happy with me. I was terribly attracted to her strength and control over me. It was fun having her direct me to do what she wanted. I loved how she was in the driver’s seat.

I sat on the edge of the bed next to her, waiting for her to tell me what to do. My eyes fixated on her legs and then on her vagina. I glanced up and saw that her breasts were much smaller than mine. She might be an A cup or best a B cup. Suddenly I felt an intolerable passion and I slid onto the carpet next to her feet and used my hands to gently glide over Betsy’s calf muscles. I looked up at her and said, “Your calves are like iron. You’re so powerful and strong.” My hand circulated around her lower legs and gently felt the muscles. Then they slowly glided up to feel her thighs. “Oh my God, Betsy you’re a superman. Your thighs are like steel. I love your strong muscles.”

Betsy raised her arms up and flexed her biceps and then her triceps. I felt her rippling muscles as they formed into knots and released. “God, you turn me on. I worship your strength.” Betsy lay down on the bed and I lay on top of her in a 69 position and I eagerly let her guide my head to a position that allowed my tongue to fondle the most vital center of her vagina. I licked and sucked it with a desperate need to make her feel good. Since my penis was pressed against Betsy’s lips, she opened her mouth and took it in. My cock was still in a recovery mode from having recently cum, but it didn’t stop Betsy from gently sucking on it. I, on the other hand, was determined to make a good impression on her pussy and I made an earnest attempt to find out what parts of its real estate she most liked to have licked or nibbled on. I think Betsy must be an unusually sensual woman because I did seem to find a path for her to achieve orgasm via my ardent licking and once she came, it set up a chain of cummings until her great lust was sated. I then flipped myself around, lay next to her resting my head on her chest and she put her arm around me and held me. We lay like that feeling the special after glow that people feel when they’ve had a fulfilling sexual experience with someone they love or are falling in love with.

I whispered in Betsy’s ear, “I think you’re as strong as superman.”

Betsy laughed and she flexed her calf muscle which I happened to have been touching and I felt myself getting a boner just from the incredible feeling of her broad and iron-like calf. “Whoa, a real superman. Mmmmmmm.”

Betsy held me tighter and whispered to me, “And you have the prettiest girl arms. No muscle anywhere. I like my girls to be beautiful. I like them wanting to be beautiful. I like when their main interest is in being beautiful.”

I gave a silly and gay laugh and said, “I want to be pretty for you, Betsy. That’s the most important thing to me.”

Betsy laughed and said, “I’ve never met a girl like you before. I don’t think I’ll ever get over how pretty you are.”

“What else about me is pretty?” I asked her. “I want to hear about all my pretty parts.”

“You have soft girl lips which I love to kiss. And you have the prettiest eyes.” I blushed and batted my eyes and Betsy laughed. “You have pretty legs and thighs to die for and I adore your shapely ass.”

“Betsy!” I said. This was so much fun and I felt drunk on Betsy’s flattery.

“I’m going to buy you all the pretty clothes you want.”

“You’re so sweet, Betsy.” I knew I was living dangerously to get entangled with Betsy, but she had ignited within me an unstoppable desire to assume the role of the meek and devoted girl I always wanted to be. I didn’t want to be a man or manly. I didn’t want to have to make decisions about anything other than what outfit I wanted to wear or whether it was time to go to the spa. I wanted to be a pretty ornament at Betsy’s side. I wanted to be admired for having a beautiful and sexy woman’s body. Let Betsy be the man. Let her be dominant. I trusted her and I loved how she seemed to know exactly how to treat me so that I craved her more and more..

“You’re my girl now, Bunny. You understand?”

“Yes, Betsy.”

***

A month later I was lying in bed with Betsy and she said, “I hope you understand that I’m going to marry you.” I responded by giving Betsy a kiss on the lips. “I take that to mean that you accept.”

“Of course, Betsy. I’d love to be your wife.”

“You barely know me.”

“You barely know me.”

“You’re everything I desire in a girl.”

“You’re everything I desire in a man.”

“You’ll have to sign a prenup.”

“I’m happy to. I don’t even need to read it. I trust you. And if one day you get tired of me, then toss me aside. I don’t want you to ever be miserable because of me.”

“You’re a dream come true, Bunny.”

“So are you.”

“Just so you understand, I run a business and I like to keep that separate from my wife.”

“You can do your man’s work and I’ll worry about being pretty for you every time you come home.”

“They certainly don’t make girls like you anymore!”

“I’m so happy that you appreciate me.” After a pause I said, “What about me working at the club?”

“Do you still want to work?”

“I like working there, but I would never want you to feel badly about having other women ogling me.”

Betsy laughed. “I’d feel a bit guilty not letting the rest of the world have a view of my pretty girl. Besides that, I’m sure that you’ll be faithful to me. Am I right?”

I started to cry and through my tears said, “You have to believe I would never be unfaithful to you. The thought horrifies me.”

Betsy held me tightly and said, “I trust you my precious girl and I know that I’ll be the only one receiving the love you have to give.”

“Thank you, Betsy, that makes me feel better.”

***

When I told Brenda and Bonnie that I was going to marry Betsy, they were very happy for me and even happier when I said that I’d still continue stripping. Maybe not the same number of nights, but I’d try to have hours every week. They also said that they hoped that I would be careful so I wouldn’t get my heart broken. “Women like Betsy are exciting and full of life, but those qualities can lead to impulsive behavior that could rock your marriage. She’s been married twice before, and while nobody really knows why those relationships went south, the rumor is that Betsy has a wandering eye. But she’s older and wiser now and we sense that you’re a very unique and special girl. Certainly, the prettiest girl we’ve seen and likely Betsy knows that she could never do better than you. Anyway, the third time is the charm, isn’t it?

***

So I came to marry Betsy Boss and moved into her house. Betsy gave me a beautiful engagement ring with a large diamond set among several smaller diamonds. The girls of the B and B Bistro seemed almost as excited as I was when I showed them the ring. Brenda insisted she throw me a bridal shower where she had everyone bring me a favorite item of lingerie as a gift. The girls gave me several different bras, panties, and garter belts. But also I was given a couple of very pretty slips and teddies. Several of the guests gave me beautiful stockings from Secrets in Lace. Betsy had slipped in among the presents for me a magnificent white nightie that I was to wear on our wedding night. I was genuinely moved by the sincerity with which the women wished me well with Betsy. They also thought that I was exactly the kind of girl that would end up being happily married to Betsy.

The wedding was a modest affair and included Tom, Dick, and Harry. Betsy thought that since it was her third wedding, we’d pass on the hoopla of a really big wedding. We were married in the enormous living room of her house with a string quartet and a pianist providing music. Betsy insisted on buying me a magnificent wedding gown which was so beautiful I cried like a baby in the bridal shop. I loved being a bride on my wedding day and everything about it. Betsy Boss wore a beautiful tuxedo and I had asked Harry if he would escort me down the aisle. We were roommates and so he was special to me and he readily agreed. It was magical when the quartet began playing the wedding march and I took a hold of Harry’s arm and marched down the aisle in my dress. The guests turned to look at me and I’m sure that many of them were pretty much wowed by my beauty. Standing in front of the minister was my incredibly handsome Betsy in her elegant tuxedo. If the guests weren’t present I would have begged Betsy to have sex with me then and there on the altar. To one side were my bridesmaids Brenda, Betty, Barbara, Bridgette, and Brittany who had been delighted to serve in that capacity when I had asked them. They had been with me helping me put on my dress and makeup and making sure my hair and every other detail was perfect. On the other side of the altar were a few of Betsy’s top henchmen and what looked to be a couple of her bodyguards.

When I stood with Betsy at the altar we turned and faced the minister. I was trembling with excitement and when the minister asked Betsy if she would take me for her lawful wedded wife, she emphatically said, “I do.” Then the minister turned to me and asked me if I would take Betsy to be my lawful wedded husband, I said, while overcome with tears of joy that I was desperately tried to hold back, “I do,” in a soft voice. In a blur the minister said we were now husband and wife and the next thing I knew I was being held in Betsy’s strong arms and she was kissing me passionately. Then we were walking down the aisle to meet and greet the guests as Betsy and Bunny Boss.

A caterer converted the living room to accommodate a dozen tables and we then had a marvelous wedding dinner. Shrimp and avocado salad for appetizer. A choice of swordfish, filet mignon and vegan for the main course. A space was left open for dancing and I don’t think I’ve ever had so much fun in my life as I did that evening. I did seem to notice that Tom, Dick, and Harry left the party with three women that were somehow related to Betsy. For myself, one of the nicest aspects of the evening was I got to meet the wives of Betsy’s henchmen. They were a very nice group of women who took me in as one of their own and made me feel completely comfortable with them.

That night when everyone had left Betsy and I retired up to her bedroom. I took a glorious bubble bath and put on the white bridal nightie and waited in the bed until Betsy joined me fresh from the shower. She climbed on top of me and we made the most intense and tender love. Despite all her great strength, Betsy was a gentle and considerate lover and by the time we finally went to sleep, we each had the widest possible grins from our recollections of the superb climaxes that we had experienced that evening.

***

And so began my life with Betsy. I made a point of rising up a half-hour before she did so I could attend to my makeup. I wanted to always be pretty for her. I told her that whenever she wanted to make love to me, I was available for her needs. I would always do whatever she wanted me to do in bed. For her part, Betsy said that she often had business to attend to at all kinds of hours. She might not be home for dinner and some nights she might not be home at all. I told her not to be concerned and that I would always strive to have myself available and waiting for her when she did come back. I’d give her a massage if she wanted it. I’d take care of any needs she had sexual or otherwise.

Betsy told me that one thing I had to do was get a complete wardrobe of beautiful clothes. Many dresses and always the latest styles. I should always pay attention to the latest fashion trends and have the appropriate accessories whether shoes or purse or choice of makeup and hairstyle. She gave me a couple of credit cards and told me not to be shy about using them. If I ever spent too much, she’d let me know. Like a child in a toy store or candy shop, I went to all the best ladies clothing stores and bought many lovely dresses and shoes and handbags. I also got many of the sexiest bras I could find.

On our first month anniversary as husband and wife, Betsy surprised me by sending me to a plastic surgeon in Los Angeles to get me the highest quality breast implants for sale. The plastic surgeon fixed me up with DD sized breasts that appeared to be as natural as any woman’s. He also put me on a skin care regimen that gave my skin a ladylike glow and he began implementing a plan to rid myself of facial hair, that I could complete over the next year while at home. I had been away for two weeks and when I came back I rushed into Betsy’s arms and cried. “I missed you so much.”

Betsy held me tight and told me how happy she was that I had returned. Later she had me undress and she applauded me on my new breasts and my beautiful skin. The truth is that had she wanted me to replace my penis with a vagina, I wouldn’t have hesitated for a second, but Betsy wants me to have a cock. She likes the different ways she can use it and play with it. As long as she thinks of me as her girl, my penis notwithstanding, then that is what matters most to me.

***

When Betsy isn’t otherwise engaged in running her business she and her henchmen are prone to having get-togethers with their wives and or girlfriends. It’s practically a weekly occurrence that Betsy takes me to a party or a dinner or we host a party or dinner where I spend a lot of time with the other wives. It always goes the same way with the men grouped around Betsy analyzing or plotting some business scheme of theirs, and us wives and girlfriends congregating in the kitchen or somewhere else away from the men. As women, we share the same stories of our husbands being drawn away from bed at all hours of the night, of sudden trips away, of emergency phone calls. There are even times when police or the FBI knock on the door and ask for our husbands. Despite all that, we wives always stick together and direct our attention away from the men’s business.

Since Betsy is top dog in the business, I have a fairly exalted status among the women. They seem to always want to be solicitous to me. At the beginning I did my best to make it clear that I felt honored to have them as friends and that I hoped to not be treated any differently than the others. I’m not so sure that the women have made that a guiding principle, but I do my best to ignore any efforts to single me out for special treatment.

The girls and I mostly talk about the latest news of their kids –many of them have children –and about clothes and jewelry and makeup and hairdressers. That kind of thing. They love my dresses, for sure and a favorite topic of conversation of mine is about bras and panties and foundation garments. The women are particularly interested in my new breasts and when I came back from LA we even went into a bedroom and I took off my blouse and bra and showed them my new boobs. They thought the surgeon was a genius. A couple of the women were going to see if they could also get new boobs from the same doctor.

Occasionally we all get together at barbeques in which those who have children bring their families. I especially enjoy being with the mothers and listening to them talk about the problems and joys of child raising. After attending a number of these outings I began to feel a bit envious of the women. There is a part of me that wants to be a mother. Maybe I hadn’t felt that way before, but seeing the women with their kids opened up desires within me that I hadn’t known were there.

At one of these barbeques I was surprised when two older women I hadn’t seen before showed up and Betsy made a beeline to them taking me with her. “Bunny, let me introduce to you my exes, Bianca and Beverly. It’s so wonderful to see you ladies!”

Betsy kissed them both and after some small talk, left them with me. “Is this awkward?” I asked.

“No, not at all. Beverly and I make a point of coming to at least one of these parties each year so we can see what old Betsy is up to,” Bianca said.

“She’s found herself quite a young beauty this time,” Beverly said.

“You’re not hurt or angry with Betsy?”

“Initially we were, sure. When she said she was moving on, I wept for a few days. But she gave us each a beautiful house fully paid for and a friend we can always go to for help, if we need it.

***

For our first wedding anniversary, Betsy arranged for us to go to a fancy resort on a Caribbean Island, where we would be alone to just enjoy each other. Of course, her bodyguards came also and were always nearby even if hidden from view. Betsy had bought me a couple of very sexy bikinis which I enjoyed wearing out on the private beach. I even took my top off to get a uniform tan and I knew that was a real turn on for Betsy. For myself, I loved looking at Betsy’s beautiful muscles as she lay next to me in the sand. I often couldn’t resist running my fingers gently over her bulging calf muscles and then on to her thighs with cords of muscle popping out. Her biceps were a wonder to me. The perfect knots of muscle were as hard as iron and I marveled at how she could have ever gotten arms like that.

It was during one of these days when we were lying on the beach together and the waves were lapping at our legs that I said to Betsy, “Have you ever thought of having a baby?”

“Sure. I think everyone thinks about that from time to time.”

“Well, I mean that I would love to be the mother of your baby.”

Betsy looked at me quizzically and said, “What brought that on?”

“I’ve gotten to know the other ladies in our group who have babies and I realized that that is me too. I’d like to be a mommy, and especially a mommy of your child.”

I was a bit afraid of what Betsy might think of what I had said, but she responded by saying, “That’s sweet of you, and I wish I could give you a baby, but you do know that I can’t carry one. I mean I can, but I can’t. My business won’t allow that sort of thing.”

“Oh, no, my dear. I wasn’t suggesting that you and I have a baby that way. I was thinking that we could use a gestational surrogate. Our egg and sperm but the pregnancy is done in someone else.”

“Really? There is such a thing!”

“There is. Many couples have successfully had babies that way.”

Betsy gathered me up in her arms and held me tightly, “I would love nothing more than for you to be the mother of my children. So yes. Let’s find the best clinic in the country and get ourselves a baby.”

“I love you so much, Betsy,” I said, and tears came down my cheeks.

***

If Betsy is anything, she is a woman of action and before we knew it, we had a surrogate mother, Beatrice, pregnant with our genetic baby. Skip ahead nine months, and Betsy and I came home from the hospital with a beautiful baby girl that we named Birdie. Birdie Blythe Boss, where Blythe was the name of Betsy’s favorite grandmother who is deceased. I was in seventh heaven and besides myself with love for our child. Betsy and I arranged to have Birdie Blythe Boss baptized. On a Sunday we gathered our friends and family together in the local church. Besides ourselves –Betsy and Bunny Boss –and the usual collection of henchmen and bodyguards, were Bonnie, Becca, Barbara, Betty, Brittany, Bridgette, and Brenda, from the Butch and Bitch Bistro, and Betsy’s ex-brides, Bianca, and Beverly, and finally Beatrice.

Betsy arranged for the surrogate mother to visit our house each day so that our baby could feed on her breasts. She and I would sit together for hours talking as she breast fed the baby. When the baby was full, then I’d get a chance to have the baby suckle on my breasts for a little while during which time I gently burped her and held her until she fell asleep.

I did one naughty thing with the surrogate Beatrice. Before she left each evening, we needed to get a bottle of her milk and she’d hook herself up to a breast pump in order to get it. One day we discovered the breast pump was broken and Beatrice had to manually express milk to the bottle. I could see how hard it was for her to get a full bottle this way so I volunteered to squeeze her breasts and extract the milk. She was only too happy to pass that chore on to me, so we got in comfortable positions and I worked on her breasts for an hour or so until we had a bottle. It turned out that it was a task that I really enjoyed doing, and Beatrice admitted to me that she got a considerable amount of pleasure from it herself. So we decided that we’d do it every night and it became a delightful ritual for us. Over time I developed various ways of squeezing her tits. I could use either one hand or two. I never tired of watching the little multiple jets of milk exit from her nipples. If I got a good squeeze, I could sustain the jets for quite a few seconds.

After about a year, Beatrice’s milk began to slow down and she got another gig as a surrogate. We had a tearful goodbye with each other and then from that time on I gave the baby formula. I was an expert mom by then and I loved taking Birdie out for walks in her stroller and then having her play with other kids in the park. Betsy was a good father when she was around. Having a baby didn’t change the number of meetings and other business that Betsy had to attend to. But when Betsy was home she’d always head right to Birdie and give her a hug. Then she’d give me a hug. I’d have to say that this was the happiest I’d ever been in my life. Every day I could wake up and put on a pretty dress and attend to my baby girl. I had gotten her the prettiest clothes also, so she and I spent delightful days as mommy and her baby girl. Whenever daddy came home then we were her loving two girls. After Birdie was asleep I had the greatest thrill of all which was to make myself as pretty as I could for Betsy. Seeing her tremble ever so slightly in anticipation of her feasting on her beautiful wife made me happier than anything.

***

While Birdie was an infant I had taken a hiatus from the B and B Bistro with a plan to return one day. But it never happened. It wasn’t that Betsy said I couldn’t, it was just that I had moved on in my life and there was no going back. It’s true that the idea of taking off my dress in front of a roomful of women and hearing them scream with desire for me, still had its attractions, but I more preferred to have a domestic life where I catered to the needs of Birdie and Betsy.

As it happens, Tom, Dick, and Harry had parlayed their careers in stripping into marriages. They each now had children and were family men. They had made enough from stripping that they had opened an eponymous pizza parlor that was wildly popular in the region. My years as a wife and mother had pulled me inevitably to a place where I now had much more in common with their wives than I did my old friends, and when we were together for a party, I preferred visiting with their wives and children and letting Betsy socialize with Tom, Dick, and Harry.

***

As moms we’re concerned about our children and especially connected with the lives of our daughters. As Birdie grew up and really needed me to be there for her as her mom, it became more and more obvious to me that there would be occasions where I couldn’t be myself with her. This weighed on me to the point that Betsy noticed. “Something is bothering you, my dear. You’re not quite yourself,” she said to me one day when I was looking kind of blue.

“This is very difficult for me to say, Betsy. I’ve realized that I’m caught between a rock and a hard place. Nothing means more to me than to be available for your pleasure when and how you want it. But …”

“But what, Bunny?”

“What if Birdie and I want to go shopping for panties together?”

“Oh, I see. I’ve always been wondering about that kind of thing. You’ll have to let me think about it.”

“You’re always so thoughtful. Thank you, my dear.”

***

One month later on our seventh wedding anniversary, I was on a plane back to LA to a surgeon who specializes in creating perfect vaginas. After putting my sperm in a sperm bank, I was now going to finish the transformation that had started with my beautiful breasts years ago. Betsy assured me that as much as she would miss my faithful boners she could also get into the opportunities for intimacy that would derive from my new pussy. There was a whole technology of strap-ons that would allow her to fill me with her penis while giving us both pleasure at the same time. “I want you to be the perfect mom for Birdie, and as much as I’ve loved the use of your little soldier standing at attention for me, now I’ll find just as much pleasure in you providing a home for my strap-on.”

***

A couple of months later I could look in the mirror and admire the perfect way my panties fit me. I also especially love how nicely I now look in a bikini bottom. I’m relieved and delighted that there is now no reason why Birdie and I cannot get dressed together as mother and daughter. Perhaps my greatest pleasure now comes from the feeling of surprise I get every time I realize that there is no manhood between my legs. This surprise is followed by delight at the realization that I now share the same feeling of absence that all women experience –whether they know it or not. As much as I love my new body, however, Betsy has found great pleasure in making love to me using her strap-on dildos or allowing me to pleasure her in other ways that had not been possible before. It’s given her a whole new sense of domination and control, both in our married life and in her business. Since nothing makes me happier than pleasing Betsy, I’m thrilled with the way things have turned out. We’ve been talking about maybe having another child. I know that Betsy would find it neat to have a son. In any event, I look forward to raising Birdie to be a young woman and growing old with Betsy.

The End