As I walked down the stairs of Theobalds Grove station, I felt scared and thrilled. I was a girl. I had seen my reflection I really looked pretty. All the same I was waiting for someone to leap at me and scream;

“Look, that boy is wearing a dress!”

As we walked down the high street, with my hand in my mothers, I realised nothing was going to happen. She looked down at me and smiled.

“We are going to buy you a new dress. Would you like that Debbie?”

“More than ice cream mummy.”

“You will have to try dress’s on in the shop, but don’t worry, you look so sweet, no one will know our secret. If you’re a good girl, you can have an ice cream too.”

As we passed shop windows, I couldn’t help catching our reflection in the windows. I saw a beautiful woman, holding her little girls hand. I was used to shorts, but a slight breeze blew up my dress and around my thin knickers.

We arrived a Woolworths, mummy was about to open the door when a man with a hat on rushed in front and opened it for us.

“After you ladies.”

“Why thank you” my mother replied.

He tipped his hat, smiled at me and winked.

“I can see where your daughter gets her good looks from madam.”

“That’s kind of you, but we must rush, busy day.”

We walked into the shop, my mother’s heels clicking on the polished wooden floor.

“Did you know that man mummy?”

“No, men like to talk to pretty ladies, and we are two very pretty ladies.”

We went and looked at the clothing section. I was staring at the party dresses. They were fluffy frilly things that reminded me of birthdays and cakes.

“Would you like to try one on?”

“Could I? Will they let me?”

“Ladies try clothes on all the time, how do we know if they look good unless we try?”

“When you buy me shorts and shirts I never try them on.” I whispered.

“You don’t really need to with boys clothes, but girl’s clothes have such wonderful colours and fit differently, you need to try them on first.”

“Which dress do you want to try, choose one; I will pick out a nice normal dress for you.”

I picked out a blue party dress that had layers of soft blue nylon on the skirt. It had big puffy sleeves, and white lace around the edges.

My mother picked out a yellow checked cotton dress, the top of which had no sleeves. I could hear the party dress rustle as she opened the curtain to the changing room.

She unzipped my sailor dress and slipped the party dress over my head. I turned to let her zip me up. I looked in the mirror and saw a princess. I had always had dreams about being a princess. The lace on the puffy sleeves tickled my upper arms as I moved. The soft nylon tickled my legs. I was so aware of this dress. I twirled and saw the skirt rise and fall. I loved this dress.

“Can we buy it please mummy, please?”

“Sorry love, I know you like it, but when you are being my secret girl, I will be teaching you how to do housework and cook. That dress is not practical. Do you understand?”

I only knew that I loved the blue dress, but mummy was right I supposed. She gave me the yellow dress to try. While I was trying it on she showed me something else.

“How would you like these?”

“She held up the prettiest pair of knickers I have ever seen. They were soft and white, on the back and front there were rows of white lace. They looked like the party dress, only they were underwear.”

“Oh I love those, can I try them on.”

“No dear, you don’t try underwear on in shops. I know they will fit you. I will have to wash them before you wear them.”

It broke my heart when she hung the blue dress back on the rack, I glanced back at it as we made our way to the till to pay for my dress and new knickers.

Outside she knelt beside me straightening out my dress and hair and said,

“Since you were such a good girl, how would you like an ice cream?”

Dresses and ice cream, what more could a princess want?

Further down the high street was a new restaurant called a Wimpy. We went through the glass door and sat at a table. A waitress came over and asked my mother what she wanted to order.

“I’ll just have a coffee and a knickerbocker glory for my daughter.”

“Whats a kickerblocker glory mummy.”

“No, knickerbocker glory, it’s an ice cream, you will love it.”

My friends at school told me they had had something called hamburgers here, but not a knicker, whatever it was. I just thought about my new knickers in mummy’s bag, and how I wished I could wear them now.

The waitress came back with a tray. There was a huge tall glass full of ice cream with a cherry on top and a long spoon. She put my mother’s coffee in front of her, and the ice cream in front of me. My eyes were like saucers.

“Is this all for me?”

My mother looked at the waitress and said loudly,

“She was such a good girl at the dentist, having her check up, I promised her an ice cream.”

I could tell my mother was lying in case someone wondered why I wasn’t at school.

Soon I was attacking the ice cream with my spoon.

“Slow down dear, girls don’t eat like that. Slowly, carefully, we don’t want to spoil our nice clothes do we? I have so many things to teach you, and I think I’m going to enjoy every minute.”

Again I watched my reflection in the window, my legs peaking out under the edge of my skirt, kicking back and forth happily. Carefully eating ice cream. Just a lucky girl with the best mum in the world.

This was the best day of my life, I knew we had to leave soon, but I wished it would last forever.

I heard the front door close. The noise of my brothers laughing and bouncing the football carried through my bedroom window. I heard my father say.

“Be careful of the road.”

As they made their way to the park to kick the ball about.

I had told them I just want to play in my bedroom.

“Ok, suit yourself.”

Was the reply. I went to the cupboard to look for my battery operated record player when my mother called.

“Simon, can you come downstairs please.”

I knew I was in trouble, because of what happened earlier.

I had gone into my parent’s bedroom and opened the top draw of my mother’s chest of drawers. Inside were lots of pairs of my mum’s knickers. I had run my hands up and down the frilly underwear. I pulled out a pair of blue knickers with stiff short lace on the legs. The lace tickled my hands. I wanted to put them on.

I had stripped off my pants, and stepped into the knickers. I pulled them all the way up and felt the nylon and lace tickle as they moved up my legs. They fell down straight away. I was a six year old boy, there was no way they would stay up. I held them in both hands and pulled them up. In the mirror I saw myself a six year old boy in women’s knickers. Did this mean I was a girl now?

My father burst into the room.

“What the bloody hell do think you’re doing. Take those off, Don’t dare ever do that again.”

My heart felt like it was going to burst. I had never seen him so angry. He had smacked me before, but his voice scared me. I must have done something very bad. I dressed and he shoved me out the door. Would he tell my brothers? Would he hit me.

I ran to my bedroom and curled upon the bed.

Later I had eaten my lunch with the family and there was no mention of what I had done. Now my mum wanted me to come downstairs. I stood in front of her and she asked the question I dreaded.

“Why did you wear my knickers?”

My tears fell.

“I’m sorry mum, I didn’t mean to I..”

“It’s ok , I just wanted to know why.”

I want to be a girl mum. Why do you make me be a boy?”

She looked at me, with a startled expression.

“We don’t make you be a boy, you are a boy darling.”

“Why can’t I just dress as a girl? I’ll be a girl then.”

“Why do you want to be a girl?”

I don’t like playing war and fighting. I want to play hopscotch with the girls, but they won’t let me, they won’t play with me because I’m a boy.”

“Do you just want to play with the girls then?”

I want to be a girl mum. I want people to see my pretty clothes and to tell me how pretty I am. If you buy me a dress then I will be a girl, please mum, please.”

She hugged me tight and whispered into my ear.

“It’s not that easy Simon. Girl and boys are different. Down there.”

“Down where mum?”

“You have your little willy in your pants. Ladies and girls just have a hole.”

This was a revelation. I thought that some people wore nice clothes and had long hair and were girls. I thought that if I could wear a dress, I could be a girl.”

My lips quivered, and the tears began again.

“Can you cut it off for me and make me a girl mum?”

“Oh my poor baby, do you want to be a girl, that badly?”

“Yes mum, I hate being a boy, make me a girl mum, please.”

She stroked my hair as she hugged me. She whispered in my ear.

“I will buy you a dress and other girls’ things. You must never tell anyone. I mean anyone. Not your brothers, dad, nan, granddad or your friends. If you do, it will stop. You can be my secret daughter. Every month I will keep you off school for a day and you can stay home with me and be a girl. You can’t go out and play, but I will teach you girl things and play girls games with you. Would you like that?”

“Yes please mum. Thank you, thank you.”

I hugged and kissed her. I was going to be a girl, a secret girl.

“I think my secret girl is going to be called Debbie, do you like that?”

My smile lit up the room.

*************************************************************************************************************************
Well it would have, but in reality, in that unremarkable house in north London in 1969, nothing remarkable happened. I just sat alone in my room and played with my least boyish toys.

The part where I got caught is true, the rest is what I wished would have happened.

A Housewife Forever?

She had met Peter on an adult meeting site. He commented on her pictures with flattering phrases like,

“You look beautiful.”

“I wish I was there holding you.”

“Very attractive legs.”

While this was not that unusual, his comments were always polite. He was never crude, unlike the younger admirers. They tended to be more graphic, telling her exactly what they wanted to do to her. This flattered her, but did was not really what she was looking for.

She had been a crossdresser all her life. She hid it and did what was expected of her. She got married and had two children. It never goes away though. She wore her wife’s knickers whenever she was out and played with herself until she came. Quickly she would replace them , carefully putting them back exactly how she found them.

Her wife had gone off sex after an early menopause and would not even talk about it, she left the room whenever he bought the subject up. So David created his alter ego, Davina.

Her job as a salesman meant she stayed in hotels several times a week. This allowed her to dress in the few clothes she had managed to acquire. She loved soft silky underwear, stockings and teddies. She had two dresses and a black pleated skirt. When she wore the skirt with her white shirt, and her blond wig, she imagined she looked like a school girl.

She had meet Peter while she was staying overnight in Peterborough. He was 62 years old, 8 years older than her. Peter lived on his own in a large detached house. He agreed to let Davina arrived dressed as a man, but told her to go straight upstairs and come down when she was ready.
She was already wearing her Victoria Secret knickers, these had a see through nylon front with little sparkles on. She made sure to tuck her semi hard cock between her legs so her front was flat. She wore lace top black stockings held up by a thin suspender belt. The stockings felt wonderful on her freshly shaven body.

She had a black nylon lace trimmed teddy covering her chest and stomach. Her moobs looked like small underdeveloped breasts. She did not wear a bra, as she loved it when men played and nibbled her sensitive nipples.

She finished her makeup, put on her little black dress, straightened her wig and slipped into her black low heeled court shoes. These were chosen as she did not want to appear too tall, she like to look up to her dates.

She took a deep breath, slowly descended the stairs and entered the large living room.

“Oh my! You look even better in person.”

Davina did not know what to expect. She had only meet two other men, both of whom mauled her straight away and practically forced her to her knees making her suck them to completion. She did not know if Peter would want to do the same.

She looked at the tall trim figure of the polite stranger who had enchanted her with kind words. He was over six foot tall with a broad chest and a full head of white hair. He had a strong jaw and masculine features.

She smiled at the compliment and sat opposite him, carefully brushing her dress underneath her as she sat. She thought to herself.

“Keep your knees together.”

Peter looked pleased and smiled back at her.

“Tea or coffee my dear?”

“Oh coffee please, white no sugar.”

“Back in a sec.”

While Peter made the drinks she looked around the room. I was tastefully furnished with a huge television on the wall opposite the sofa. Davina thought he must be wealthy, well compared to her anyway.

Peter returned with tray and presented her with a her coffee and a single red rose.

“A rose for a rose my dear lady.”

Davina was startled, no one have ever given her flowers in her life. Emotions flooded her mind. She felt so feminine at that moment. A simple flower given as a gesture of affection was something unique and feminine.

When she looked up she had tears in her eyes.

Thank you, you don’t know what this means to me.”

He knelt and gently pulled her to his chest and hugged her.

“There, there. It’s ok. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

She smelt his cologne, and breathed it in deeply.

“I’m not upset, I’m happy. All my life I have felt like a woman inside. That single rose means so much. It’s a gift only given to a woman by a man.”
Peter looked her in the eyes, with a sad expression.

“My wife used to like roses. You remind me of her.”

Davina wrapped her arms around Peter and gently squeezed. She could feel herself falling for this kind sensitive man. Her mind was in turmoil , could she fall in love with a man?

They broke apart and Peter sat across the coffee table and began chatting to her. He told her how his wife had died two years before, and how he had married young at his parents request. They had known he was gay, but they did not want a scandal.

His wife knew and had found discrete lovers to satisfy her needs. They had made love several times, he had to imagine she was a man, but his heart wasn’t in it. He had loved her like a sister, but was not sexually attracted to women.

Now both his parents were dead and he had his own wealth, he had decided to explore his own sexuality. He had seen Davina’s profile and became infatuated. The combination of a pretty woman with a secret in her knickers was irresistible.

Davina felt the connection between them grow as they spoke. She told him of her childhood, She had prayed to god that she would wake up as a girl. She looked at the girls at school and envied their pretty clothes.

She told him how her marriage was close to ending, and how she suspected her wife had a lover. She explained how the brief time she spent dressed was the only thing keeping her sane.

She moved across to him and his strong arms surrounded her. She felt so safe and loved . They kissed hungrily . Peter had fifty years of bottled up lust.

“Do you mind if...?”

“No, please, please do.”

He pulled her onto his lap. She felt his hard member press into her bottom through her dress and knickers. He eased her dress over her head and let it drop to the floor. She was on his lap facing away from him. His strong hands caressed her hardening nipples through her silky teddy. He blew in her ear and nipped her earlobes with his teeth. She shivered all over.

“Oh my god what are you doing to me, I have never been so turned on.”

His legs parted, splitting Davina’s legs wide and giving him access to her knickers. His right hand reached in and pulled her straining cock from it’s silky prison. He started to stroke it gently.

She trashed about, her legs splayed apart, his cock pressing against her and her nipples being tweaked. He gently jerked her cock as he kissed her neck.

With a girlish scream , she came harder than she had ever before. Some of her cream hit her face. He turned her head and licked off the mess.
“Did you enjoy that dear?”

“That was incredible, I have never felt like that before.”

“That’s because no one has ever treated you as a woman before.”

She sat beside him as she got her breath back.

“I think I have a solution to your problems Davina. Come and live here with me. Take over from my wife.”

She thought how much she would love that, but she had responsibilities.

“I can’t my wife , the house, the mortgage.”

“I’m a millionaire Davina, I can pay off your mortgage and pay your wife half an million for a quiet divorce. In the morning we will drop your car off at the hotel and you can call your company and tell them you quit. Then ring your wife and make her the offer.”

She could not believe she was close to saying yes.

“I still have most of my wife’s clothes, she had a separate room and I have never bothered t clean it out. I have six bedrooms so it did not seem urgent. You can go through everything and keep what fits.”

In a moment of madness she said.

“Yes, yes please make me your wife.”

“Listen Davina, before you agree you must know this. You will be dressed as a woman 24/7. No more trousers, only skirts and dresses. You will wear only silk underwear, only stockings never tights. You will wear heels all the time. You will be perfumed and pretty all the time. You will cook, clean and iron. All your worries will be over, you only need think of looking nice and keeping me happy. You will be my beautiful housewife forever."

“Can you live the life I offer?”

“Yes please Peter, I am yours.”

“OK then my dearest wife, time to seal the deal.”

She fell to her knees as he stepped out of his underwear. His cock was seven inches long and cut. She engulfed it, working her tongue on the underside as she sucked. She thought to herself, this is what she will do every day now, suck and please her man.

“Wow, that’s nice, I’m tempted to let you finish me, but we must do this properly. Are you a virgin?”

“Yes, I have played with my wife’s vibrator, but never had a man.”

“Come up to our bedroom with me, don’t worry I’ll be gentle.”

Our bedroom, she thought. Where she will sleep with her man from now on. Where he will make love to her.

He got her on all fours as he smeared his cock and her hole with lubricant. She felt the soft head push at her entrance, with a gentle thrust it was in. She felt pain as she was stretched. Inch by inch he entered her. The pain was incredible. She knew she must endure it if she was to be his wife. This was going to happen every day now.

He was all they way in. She started to relax, she had felt this before. This wasn’t hard plastic, it was warm firm wonderful flesh. Her man had mounted her he was going to fuck her now.

He slowly started to rock against her. The pain was gone, each thrust grazed her prostate. She felt the warm throbbing monster plundering her. It was making a woman out of her, she was so happy.

He pulled out and she felt empty, disappointed. She was rolled onto her back. He climbed onto the bed and lifted her legs over his shoulders. She felt exposed. He looked down and saw her hard cock and smiled.

“My ideal woman.”

She groaned as he slipped back into her. His gentleness gone, he thrust in and out with urgency.

A feeling was building inside her as he quickened the pace. A warm glow was spreading through her body. She felt his cock grow larger and pulse. She could feel him pump his warm seed into her body. His seed would swim inside her trying to impregnate her.
With that thought she came, her cock jetted out her own weak seed, as her body convulsed and tingled.

He collapsed, sweating onto the pillow beside her.

I have not posted a story for over 4 months. I have had a lot going on in my life and have not had the time. This idea popped into my head a few days back. It is a forced fem story, If that upsets you please don't read, It is just a story.

"Fifi! Come to the study now".

I hear my mistress calling and carefully negotiate the stairs. The carpet is thick and luxurious my 4-inch heels are not easy to walk in, even after all these months. As I descend the stairs, I feel the air lifting my petticoats with each step. The lace tickles my thighs above my stocking tops.
The petticoats fluff out the skirt on my black silk maids dress. This is made worse by the ultra-frilly underwear my mistress insists I wear. They are lavished with frilly lace, the sort of thing tennis players used to wear in the 1970's.

I catch a glimpse of myself as I pass a mirror on the second floor. I still can't believe that the woman, the maid hurrying past the mirror is me. My mind wanders back to how this started over 6 months ago.

My name was Tony then, I was spending well deserved holiday travelling around Italy. I met Luna in a bar while on Sicily. She was beautiful but sad. I managed to make her laugh and she loved my English accent. I decided to spend my remaining month on the Island. We spent most of that month in my hotel room making love. She never seemed to want to go outside with me. I thought this was odd, but what hot-blooded guy would turn down spending a few hours each day with a Latin beauty?

A few days before I was due to go back home she came to my room crying.

"Tony, I'm pregnant."

I was stunned. I just assumed she would be on the pill. I didn't know what to say. As I stood there thinking of a way out of this situation the door was kicked in and several burly men carrying guns. I froze. Luna screamed and spoke to the men in Italian. One held her, while another pushed a gun in my face and forced me to my knees. Then everything went white as he pistol-whipped me.

I woke with the worse headache of my life. I was hogtied on the floor of a large, lavishly decorated office. A large, angry-looking man. Luna was there weeping.

"Papà please."

"Shut up Luna. You have done enough."

He saw I was awake and directed his anger to me.

"Do you know what you've done? Do you know who I am?"

I was terrified. "No sir, please let me go."

"I am Enzo Barone. I am the head of the Cosa Nostra on this island. You have impregnated my daughter, YOU HAVE RUINED HER!"

He lifted my head and punched me in the face. Luna fought to drag him off of me while he rained down blows on my defenseless body.

"I was going to marry her to the son of another family. Now what will I do, HUH?"

I nearly wet myself as he pulled a pistol from his desk drawer. I knew I was going to die. Then Luna saved me.

"Papa, if you kill him I won't have this baby."

"Why should I care? Stay out this this bambina."

"Papa, it may be a son. A boy to take over from you. Don't you want that?"

I saw him lower the gun, and then look at me in disgust.

"Ok, He won't die. But he must be punished. I will discuss this with your mother,"

He raised the pistol, and for the second time that day I was pistol-whipped.

I awoke in a soft bed. I could hear the birds singing outside. My face felt like I had been hit by a truck. I gradually came to my senses. There was something wrong. I was on a drip. Something was on my chest. I lifted the cotton sheet and screamed, I had tits. They were right there on my chest under a loose hospital gown.

A woman came into the room that I had never met. She looked like Luna, but twice her age.

"Good, you're awake. I see that you've discovered some of the modifications we have had done/"

"You crazy bitch, I'll fucking kill..... " I stopped talking. My voice it was dry and croaky, but it was high-pitched, like a womans voice.

She laughed and said.

"You've noticed your voice now. This is fun. There's more too"

My heart was pounding. I sat up as best as I could. I was so weak. My arms looked thin. How long had I been out? I sat up and saw a catheter coming from between my legs. I lifted the gown and screamed even louder than before. There was nothing there. I was smooth down there, They had taken my manhood.

The woman laughed so much she was almost in tears.

"Oh, this is so funny. I'm sure Enzo will enjoy seeing the CCTV recording. But I'll put you out of your misery. You still have your, what is it you Engish say, meat and two veg? Or is it family jewels?. They are sewn back between your legs. You have done enough damage with them. We are keeping them where they can do no further harm."

What had happened and where I was came back to me.

"Please, please let me go. You have punished me enough haven't you?"

I thought of how I would have to go home and explain this to a doctor and get it reversed.

She gave me a cold smile

"No. Your punishment will last your lifetime. You will be a living reminder to anyone who crosses my husband. This is what's going to happen. You will be a servant here, a female servant. You are allowed three strikes. If you try to contact the outside world or try to escape we will remove your balls. If you try a second time, you will lose your cock. A third, and you end up in the bay feeding the fish. Listen. My name is Maria. I am Luna's mother. From now on you call me mistress. Do you understand?"

I gulped. Tears filled my eyes and I said.

"Yes, mistress."

That was over 6 months ago. They had shaved my head and permanently removed my hair. I wear wigs now, which are glued on for a month or so at a time. I'm blond today but have been ginger, brunette, even pink. I have makeup tattooed on my face and they had done some reshaping on my face. My nose is smaller and cute. They reduced my brow ridge. I passed as a woman easily.

I was trapped. Enzo practically owned this island. Realistically, I knew there was no escape, but I was still a man. I could go back to what I was. I still had hope. The problem was if I tried and failed I would not have that option. The hormones that they made me take every day had me feeling so weak though. They had changed my body and my mind. I often cried myself to sleep. The mansion was like a fortress. It had high walls and was heavily guarded. Enzo had enemies.

I knocked on the door of the study.

"Come."

"You called mistress?"

"Yes. Luca wants to see you in the garage. After he has finished with you" She paused and smirked. She knew as well as I did what Luca wanted and what he was going to do to me.

"After he has finished with you, make me some coffee and join me in here. I have something to discuss with you."

I slowly made my way down to the garage. Luca was Enzo's driver. He was a overweight, often smelly 50-year-old bi-sexual man. He had recently saved Enzo's life by putting himself and the car between Enzo and a would-be assassin. Luca had asked for me as a reward. This would be the third such "reward".

My heels clicked on the tiled floor as I walked to the rear entrance of the mansion. I could feel my stockings brushing against each other. I could smell my perfume. I knew how sexy I looked. I felt so feminine. I knew soon that Luca would be making me feel even more feminine,

This is just a short story idea that came to me while having a walk today thinking about "stuff". Sorry not my "normal" stuff.

"Houston, approaching orbital point alpha in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. Orbit optimum. We are looking good."

"Roger that Captain Adams." You will be out of radio contact in 5 minutes. How are your instrument readings?"

"There are A-OK Dave. I have more than enough fuel for 10 more orbits, a landing, and then some."

"No, once around and home Peter. We will wait until we have a full crew before we fully test the RLL. See you on the other side."

Peter knew that of course. The Reusable Lunar Lander was designed to take a crew of up to 6 people to a moonbase and return them to Earth. If it all worked out it would be a glorified shuttle bus. It launched from a modified 747 and used reusable booster pods to achieve escape velocity. The project was privately funded and NASA had let them use Houston as mission control.

He stared out of the cockpit window and wondered why he was there. He knew fully well why his life led him here. He was justifying himself to his father. His father had caught him when he was seven years old. He screamed at him and dragged him through the house. He remembered his mother screaming "Don't hurt him!".

His father never took any notice of his mother. His word was law. He remembered being dragged out to the barn, his father words.

"I ain't no father to a goddamned fucking sissy faggot. You'll never be a real man. Still, I'm going to try to beat the sissy out of you."

His father never swore. He knew how much trouble he was in. He remembered being beaten with a belt until he passed out.

His relationship with his father was never the same after that. He had feared but loved his father. After that, there was just fear. He stuffed down deep inside himself all the odd feelings that he had. He had to man up and be like his brother John. He was a real man.

He got into fights at school and joined as many sports teams as he could because that's what real men do. Still, he could see that look in his father's eye. No matter what he did he still heard his father's voice saying.

"You'll never be a real man. "

Perhaps that was why he wanted this mission. Flying a prototype was dangerous after all. Was he trying to prove he was a real man, or was he trying to put the moon between his dead father's disapproving voice?

His brother was a real man. He was killed in action in Afghanistan. After the loss of his wife to cancer and then the loss of his favorite son, Peter hoped they could have gotten closer. No, there was still that looking in his eye and the unspoken.

"You'll never be a real man."

It had remained that way until his father's death 3 months before.

Peter checked the instruments. No radio signals. He was on the "dark side of the moon". He knew that the moon never actually had a dark side. It just had a side that permanently faced away from the Earth.

He was isolated from the rest of humanity now. Perhaps the voice in his head would be finally silent. He had never felt so alone. He listened, and there it was.

"You'll never be a real man."

Peter let out a long anguished scream that could go nowhere in the vacuum of space. Then he started ranting.

"Fuck you Dad, fuck the fucking lot of you. Real fucking man. Fucking airforce, fucking captain, fucking astronaut. It means fuckin nothing."

This had been locked inside of him for so long. He felt like he was a balloon that had been filled to near bursting for years and someone had popped him. Feelings came flooding in. Feelings he had repressed for so long pretending they never existed. He had lived his life to the expectations of others. Never for himself.

Why do I have to be a "real man"? Who am I doing all this for? Why shouldn't my happiness matter?

In a moment of clarity, he knew what he had to do. He knew what he always should have done.

"Captain Adams, do you read me?"

"Peter, are you there?"

"Yes, Houston I'm here."

"Is everything OK?"

"Everything is fine Dave. Never been better. Starting re-entry maneuvers."

Peter successfully landed the RLL and was paid handsomely for proving the concept. Modifications were made and NASA authorised funding for a fully manned landing test one year later. They approached Peter to fly it. He could not be found.

The company Ecospace, where Peter worked, hired a detective agency to track him down. They needed his advice even if he would not be the pilot.

The detectives found a middle-aged woman named Pamela, living in a quiet mountain town.

She claimed to be Peter's sister. She told them Peter had moved to Alaska and she had lost touch with him.

The agency could find no record of a sister but started making inquiries in Alaska.

This story takes place in a land far, far away with different laws. Please don't tell me what is or is not lawful. This is fantasy after all. Not sex story (so far anyway)

I stood in the dock shaking. What had I done? The end-of-term disco should have been just a fun time for everyone. Someone had spiked the punch. We were all over 18 and could legally drink, but the headmaster decided he didn't want unruly behavior.

My friend Mat told me that Janet was wearing very sexy red knickers. He said they were silky with black lace. He said he saw them when she twirled. He knew I had a "thing" for Janet. Normally, I would have just pictured it in my head, but I was on top of the world. I had got a place at a top university and had 3 months of holiday to look forward to.

The alcohol made me do a silly thing. I waited until she bent over the table to cut herself a slice of cake and lifted her tartan skirt high over her back. It was a sight to behold. Her sexy red knickers were framed beautifully by her stockings and suspender belt. Time stood still for me. She was perfect.

Then the screaming and crying started. I was quickly grabbed by a mob of angry young ladies and escorted to the headmaster's study to await the police.

In our small town justice is swift. The council debated if I should be handed over to the courts in the city or if they could keep it a purely local affair. Janet and her parents were consulted and due to my spotless record and charitable works, they decided to keep my trial a town affair.

The JP, the severe-looking Justice Mary Dubois summed up.

"As you are over 18, the act you carried out warrants an adult punishment. You could be looking at 5 to 7 years in prison."

There was a collective gasp and an "Oh no John!" from my mum.

"However. Due to your good standing and the character witnesses who spoke on your behalf, we have decided on an alternative punishment."

I let out my breath. I had felt it freeze in my chest when she said 7 years. My dreams of a good job and prospects would have finished there and then.

"I have discussed this with the victim and her parents and we have come up with a creative solution that satisfies her need for justice..

In the past, we put petty criminals in the stocks for a day or two for the townspeople to ridicule. Shame is a powerful tool. Janet felt shame when you exposed her to her classmates. She wants you to know how that feels.

So, young man. do you agree to the punishment we have decided, or do you want this to go to the city's justice system.?"

I looked at my mother she was nodding vigorously. It was a no brianer. I could handle a bit of shame.

"Yes, your honor."

"When I was a young girl there was a punishment for naughty males called petticoat punishment. This involves forcing them to dress in female clothing. Its intention is to humiliate the 'subject' as a form of punishment.

This court declares that you John Buckingham, will dress as a woman, act as a woman, and work as a woman until the day before you start university.

Furthermore, you will report to Janet's mother Audry Williams, every day to work as an unpaid servant between the hours of 9 AM to 9 PM. "

A roar of laughter went up in court. I was gobsmacked. What could I do? I just had to suffer this for 3 months then put it all behind me.

"As your mother is smaller than you, I would ask the women of the village to donate any clothing they think may fit our new young lady.

You John. have had a lucky escape. I will be checking that you stick strictly to your punishment. Otherwise, I will send you to the city for a more severe punishment.

The sentence is to begin on Monday at 9 AM. Be ready and dressed at Mrs Williams's house. You have the weekend to prepare. "

Janet smirked at me, Her mother looked like a lioness closing in for the kill. She came over as the court slowly emptied.

"You are going to pay for what you did. I'll have you cleaning and scrubbing until you are dead on your pretty little feet."

She stalked away holding her daughter's hand.

At home, my mother made me some hot sweet tea to help with my shock.

"It could have been a lot worse son. You could have been sent to prison."

"But mum, the whole town will laugh at me."

"In 3 months you will be in digs at university. No one there will know."

"Yeah, I suppose you're right."

There was a knock on the door. I listened as Mum answered. It was our neighbor's daughter Sally. She was 20. I had a crush on her.

"I have just brought some of my old clothes. A few dresses and tops. There is also a nighty, a couple of bras and some knickers. I have some shoes too. If they don't fit throw them away."

Sally was just the start. The knocks on the door kept coming. I heard comments like.

"I'm sure he will love wearing these. They are so soft and sexy. My husband used to love me wearing them. "

By the end of the day, I had enough female clothes to fill a charity shop. I was shocked by the amount of underwear. None of it was plain. I think the women got off on the idea I would have to wear their frilly undies.

The JP had made it clear to my mother what was required. I was to be fully shaved, wear makeup, and wear only unmistakenly female clothes. No leggings or trousers.

I spent a miserable weekend while smirking and giggling women, delivered my wardrobe for the coming months.

Sunday morning, Mum ran me a bath filled with scented water and showed me how to shave my sparse body hair. After I dressed in male clothes for the last time. I looked in the spare bedroom.

The room was full of women's clothes. Skirts of all lengths, dresses of all the colours of the rainbow. I opened the drawers. There were sweaters, blouses and soft cotton shirts. The top two drawers contained bras, and knickers of many different shapes and sizes. I held some of them up. Most were soft and silky. Nearly all had frills and lace around the legs and top.

There were other items. Lacy belts with straps hanging down. I recognised these were suspender belts, just like Janet wore the night of the disco. The corner of the room had several pairs of high heels and boots. I stepped into a black pair and wobbled across the room. I was sure I would break my ankle if I wore these.

My heart sank at the thought that I would be doing 12 hours a day of hard labor for Audry Williams wearing these clothes. This was a nightmare. It was due to start tomorrow.

I just wanted to run. How could I go through with this? It seemed like half the women in the town were relishing the thought of me wearing their clothes.

This story is set in Torrey Grover's Educating Special Boys in the Feminist Republic universe and references Beverly Taff's , The Feminine Queendom, set in the same universe.

My Name is Andy Tyler, this is my story I keep a diary every day as I want someone, one day to know what I have lived through.

I carried my diary everywhere. I know it’s dangerous, but if I left it my apartment it would not be any safer. Recently I was stopped by the police and they asked for my I.D card. My card is pink as I am a part transitioned male. After a few nasty remarks about how I was dressed the said that I was harmless and not worth bothering with.

At school I was a shy introvert. I did mix with other boys though. I got into scrapes. We were all punished. They said this was typical male behavior. Fighting among ourselves is why men will never rule. They did not understand, boys do this to sort out a pecking order. When it’s done we all know our place and get along.

I had seen the girls do the same. They did it with cutting remarks about appearance. The plainer girls were the butt of their vicious comments. The girls form of bulling was invisible, but probably worse than the odd kick or punch. I saw Mary Hall crying in the corridor once and wanted to hug her. I knew if I did I would be accused of attacking her and thrown out of school.

Where I did excel was in exams. I loved competition. Competitive sports were banned for boys, they said it brought out our aggression. So exams were the only place I could show what I could do.

At the age of nine, the school contacted my mother and asked if she would consent to my feminisation.

At first I said no, but my mother showed me videos of life in the men’s camps. There were murders, beatings and even torture. These were always shown as male on male violence.

Today I understand the term “spin”. These were video’s designed to encourage reluctant boys to agree to feminisation. They would never show these horrors to a nine year old girl!

When they showed me what life could be like as a woman I freely agreed. They fast tracked me. Soon I was castrated and put on hormones. I was going to school in panties, white socks, a blouse and pleated skirt.

Most of the girls shunned me, but at least Mary Hall spoke to me. One advantage was I could use the library now. I spent all my spare time learning about the world outside the republic. Even with the access I got as a girl most of the internet as well as the library was heavily censored. The librarian told me that it was to stop us being corrupted by patriarchal nonsense.

Even the limited information I gathered I knew we were being lied to. Men weren’t all stupid dangerous brutes.

I did well in my exams at eleven, but at twelve I seem to have lost my drive. When I was a boy I enjoyed exams. It was like fighting, but using my brain. I just didn’t seem to care much anymore.

I failed my advance exam and couldn’t qualify for the STEM course. No one told me about this possibility when I agreed to feminisation. I was brighter than many of the other girls in my class, but they could go on to do any job they were suitable for. All I could hope for now was a job as a caregiver, household domestic or some other job seen as too menial for a woman to do. Men were not trusted to be near women, but us feminised “in-betweeners” were considered safe.

I finished school at sixteen as I wasn’t allowed to go on to higher education. I lived with my mother and started to look for a job that would tax me more than just being a domestic cleaner. I was turned down at every attempt.

Just after my seventeenth birthday my mother died of a brain embolism. I thought I would inherit the house and her money. I was wrong. Her cousin claimed everything, being an incomplete woman, I had only a few more rights than a man. I was going to be homeless.

The rules were that homeless failed feminised males were sent to work camps. I knew what would happen to me at the hands of my brothers. While I wasn’t a full women, the hormones had given me small breasts and a female shape.

I was desperate for any work. The first job I was offered I took. It was at the home of Rosemary Pickering, a member of the feminist elite. She wanted a maid. On my first day she showed me the uniform. I nearly left, but I knew that would mean my next destination was the work camp.

It was a short frilly maids dress. I had never seen one that looked that impractical . Maids clothing was plain and practical. This was all frills, lace and satin. The skirt would almost show my bottom.

“Well are you going to wear it, or are you going to the work camp?” she said.

The she showed me the underwear. Who has heard of underwear as part of a work uniform?

There was a white corset, panties dripping with frills and lace, a pair of black seamed stockings and three inch black high heels. The whole uniform was designed to embarrass me. She knew I had no choice.

She made me change in front of her, when I was about to put on the panties she told me to stop. She reached out and played with my penis for a few minutes. It felt nice, but it remained soft.

“Useless isn’t it? Good, you're a safe useless sissy.”

She walked off laughing. I worked there for six months. I was determined to find another job. She took great pleasure in humiliating me in front of her visitors. She told them all party members should have a sissy maid.

I found a job for a company that hired out cleaners. It was a struggle when I left, as Ms Pickering held back most of my money to pay for my stupid maids uniforms. She told me to be careful, She said she had friends in the court system. Any trouble with the law and I would be back as her sissy maid for life.

I managed to rent a tiny one room apartment, in the oldest part of town. I traveled to different households, cleaned and helped older ladies. Most were indifferent to me. Some though, were hostile and insulted me. I knew there was no point complaining. My favorite was a eighty year old called Pamela Dawson. She talked to me while I worked and looked at me with what I can only describe as pity.

She told me to call her Pam and shared meals with me. The food was much better than I could afford, even though I worked six day a week. I looked forward to cleaning for her. Once she even asked me to have lunch with her on my day off.

Then one day I got a phone call. My phone is the most basic model you can buy. It’s one the agency provides, so they can tell you of any changes to your visits. They even deduct the cost from our salary.

I had left my diary at Pam’s house. Within the pages were all my thoughts. I had written how I could not put up with my life much longer. I could see my future. I could not save any money, so when I was too old to work or too ill, it was off to the work camp for me. I wanted my death to mean something. So I would blow myself up at Rosemary Pickering’s house, along with all her femista friends.

I was just angry when I wrote it, but I knew it was enough to get me a death sentence.

“Come to my house now we need to talk.”

I was a shaking mess when I arrived.Pam hugged me and said.

“Calm down you poor sweet boy, It’s alright, you’re not in trouble.”

I broke down and cried, no one had hugged me for years.

“Come and sit with me I have something to show you.”

She put on a news item on her screen. It was the Australian defence minister explaining how the United Queendom had sent soldiers to kidnap the owner of the patient to gravity disks. There was a possibility of war.

“What has this got to do with me?”

“Well you see the defence minister was a transitioned male, there are transitioned males in positions of power everywhere in feminist countries. Many are not happy about the things that were done to them by the feminist. In their arrogance the feminist governments think all these converted males are happy being female.”

“How does that help me though?”

“It doesn’t straight away, but the cracks are showing. War is all men’s fault they say, yet two feminist countries may be going to war. There are rumors that Anston aerospace stole the design of gravity disks from China. The Chinese have been using them for as long as we have. If the Chinese invented them it shows how far ahead they are. It’s worrying.”

“Why does that matter?” I said

“China is a patriarchal society, the big scary feminist monster. Yet they have an equal education system. They don’t waste the minds of half the population. Intelligent women marry intelligent men. Often they reproduce intelligent children. With a population of one hundred and fifty billion, they could walk all over us.”

“Women don’t marry here, they use sperm from the camps don’t they?”

“Yes, all the brightest boys are converted like you, they never donate sperm. The feminist method is making feminist countries dumber. It was proven by the woman who’s children the United Queendom tried to kidnap. I don’t know who invented the gravity disk, the Chinese or Anston, but I bet there was an intelligent man involved somewhere.”

“It’s all very interesting, but what has my diary got to do with this.” I said.

“I needed to know I could trust you before I could help you. I am a member of an organisation call the Pistil and Stamen Gardening Society. That’s the female and male parts of a flower.It's a silly name, but it seems harmless to the authorities. The PSGS help people like you, people that the feminist have discarded. We have many converted males and sympathetic women in positions of power. Eventually we plan to take power and form a better fairer system. We are going to use the same methods the feminist use, take control of the infrastructure using computers. We are a few years away yet, I just hope we can do it before they drag us into disaster.”

"Will I not have to be sent to the work camps when that happens?" I said

“Before I tell you anymore, I want you to watch this.” She said.

The video showed men with women and children, playing, laughing, and kissing. They looked happy. Men with women at child birth. Men grieving dead partners. Interviews with women where men had sacrificed themselves to save their wives or families. Men playing sports, men singing in pop bands, all things I had never seen. It lasted an hour. i was sobbing by the end.

Pam put her arms around me and wiped my tears away.

“That’s what men and women should be. Men had lost their way yes, they needed reminding of their responsibilities. Not turning into under educated slaves. Even through history women were often the power behind the throne. We kept men from acting on their darker impulses. These feminists have it wrong. Feminism was never about getting rid of men. They see it as women good, men bad. There is good and bad in both. To make something beautiful, like a flower, you need both Pistil and Stamen. Some flowers have only male or female organs, and require a separate flower of the opposite gender to reproduce. We call these Imperfect Flowers. Perfect Flowers, on the other hand, have both a stamen and a pistil, and are able to reproduce on their own. We the PSGS, want our country to be the perfect flower. Women and men together. “

“That’s beautiful, it always seemed so unfair, how badly you could be treated just because you were born a boy. So there are other fairer, countries in the world?”

“Yes, some are like America the way it was before the feminist took over. Some repress women, they have got worse, as they are scared the feminist culture will spread to them.”

“Would you like to leave here and make your way to a male friendly country?”

“Yes, yes please, can I be a man again?”

“With our network, we can sneak you out to China in an empty shipping container with a false back wall. You will be hot and uncomfortable. It will take around thirty days, Do you think you can cope?”

“I would crawl over a mile of broken glass to get out of this hell hole.” I said

Now I’m nearing the end of my journey, the container is being lifted off the ship in China. The PSGS provided me with men’s clothes, a fake passport, male hormones and gold. I feel a slight growth on my chin, my hair is now short and I felt a stirring in my pants for the first time in my life yesterday.

It is going to be difficult, but at least I can face these difficulties as a man.

******************************************************************************************************************************

I can't remember when I knew I wanted to be a girl. I remember seeing girls in pretty dresses when I was 4 or 5 and wishing I could be pretty like them. I even asked my mum once.

"Can I be a girl mum?"

"Why do you want to be a girl, Simon?" She sounded angry.

"So, I can wear nice dresses like they do."

"Don't be stupid. Boy's don't wear dresses."

I thought then that boys and girls were the same. I thought girls were boys with long hair that wore nice clothes. I learned the difference as I grew older.

When I found out I remembered crying myself to sleep. I knew I'd never be a girl unless I cut my willy off. One of my friends caught his in his zip and screamed and cried until the school nurse helped him. I couldn't cut it off, could I? It would hurt too much. If I did would mum buy me a dress?

As I grew up started to see things on the internet, I realized there was more to it than cutting things off. There were these things called hormones. The girls at school began to change shape. I was so jealous. I just got spotty.

I had a strong feeling that I wanted to see what it felt like to be a girl. My mum and dad went next door for a drink at Christmas. I was upstairs playing on my video game.

"Will you be ok son? We're only next door, we'll be back in an hour."

"Yes dad, I'm fine."

As soon as I heard the door shut, I ran to my parent’s room and opened my mother’s top drawer. I had looked in here before but didn't dare touch. I stared down at the frills and lace. My heart felt like it would jump out of my chest.

I reached for something at the back. I thought if I took stuff underneath, mum wouldn't see that anything had been moved. I found a pair of pink frilly knickers and a white bra. I ran to the window to check no one was coming.

Then went back and closed the drawer. Back in my room I stripped off and put on my "finds". It took me ages to clip the bra straps together. I wanted to adjust the straps but knew she would notice if I did. As I pulled the knickers up my legs, I could feel the lace scratching and tickling as they rose up. This made my heartbeat faster. They felt so soft. I still felt the lace when they were all the way up.

I looked in the mirror. I was a boy in girls’ underwear. I still enjoyed the feeling of being dressed though.

I knew I could be caught at any moment, so went back to my parents’ bedroom. I was just going to take the underwear off when I decided to open my mum's wardrobe.

I saw her old fur coat at the back, and a pair of worn looking heels. Did I have time? I wanted this so bad. Within moments I was in them. The heels made my buttocks feel tight as I walked up and down the room. On the top shelf I saw a hat my mum had worn to my cousin's wedding.

I reached up and settled it on my head. I caught sight of myself in the full length mirror. I saw a girl. No, a woman. At last, I was a woman. I felt so happy I could cry. I didn't want this to end.

I knew the more time I spent like this the more likelihood I would be caught. I hated taking everything off. With the care of a professional spy I replaced every item.

I returned to my room and dressed with only moments to spare. I just re-started my game when I heard the front door open.

I was hooked now. Every chance I could, I would wear whatever I could of my mother's. I was dying to try her tights on. I couldn't because she balled them up. I didn't know how to do that. She would notice.

When I was just a few months away from leaving school things changed. I had sorted some of my old clothes out and took them down to the recycling bin. The bin was overflowing. There were bags on the floor beside it. On the top of one bag there we a pair of ballet flats. My heart raced. What other treasures were inside?

A plan formed. I looked around. A few houses overlooked the containers, but someone would have to be in an upstairs window to see anything.

I "accidentally" spilled all of my old clothes out onto the bag of women's clothes. Then bent down put everything back. What I really did was put most of the contents of the other bag into mine. I made a show of trying to put my clothes in the container. Shook my head and headed home. All that was left of my stuff was a tee-shirt at the top of the bag.

That night by the light of my bedside lamp I quietly looked through my new treasures. I hit the jackpot. There was a white panty-girdle, white sports bra, a few blouses, a red vest top with a lace collar an elasticated pleated skirt, and of course the shoes.

I had almost a complete outfit! I couldn't wait to try it on. It was almost a week until I got the chance. Even then I only had 15 minutes. As I looked in the mirror, I knew I had to do something about my legs and my boobs.

I had stopped cutting my hair months before. Mum was pushing for me to get it cut, but I got away by telling her all the boys were growing theirs out.

I sat my "O" levels and knew I was done with school. Soon I would be job hunting. The problem was the need to be a girl was stronger than ever. I heard once that men think of sex every 20 seconds. That's how I felt about being female. I would fall asleep thinking about it and wake up thinking about it.

I had done a bit of shopping on my way home for my mum and added some tights and a packet of balloons. I took my own shopping upstairs hidden in my coat. I had been planning this for weeks.

I was trembling as I got dressed. I filled two balloons with warm water and used them to create breasts. I gently pulled the tights up my legs. They felt heavenly.

I sat on my bed an applied a small amount of eyeshadow that mum had thrown away. I found it in the bin in the bathroom. I used a red liquorice sweet on my lips. I pinched my cheeks to make them red. I had read that on a history website.

After brushing my hair, I looked at myself in the mirror on my wardrobe. I saw a young woman. I saw me. The real me. This felt so right. I never wanted to go back. Kirsty was here to stay.

Now the hard part. I had to go and tell mum and dad. I saw dad in the living room through the door, he had his head in a newspaper. I quickly walked passed to the kitchen. My mother was washing up.

I tried to speak, but the words wouldn't come. It felt like my heart was in my throat. I managed to mumble.

"Mummm."

She turned and dropped a cup she was washing.

"What the hell are you wearing?"

"This is me mum. Please understand This is who I want to be. Please accept me."

"Accept you! You filthy pervert. You're sick. I can't believe I raised a sick little deviant like you."

"But, but mum please I..."

"Don't mum me. I'm going for a walk. Let your father deal with you. When I come back you better be wearing your own clothes or I'll kick you out of this house."

"Mum, mum I.."

"No! You're no son of mine."

She slapped my face, then walked out of the back door. I heard the garden gate slam. I collapsed to the floor, drawing in big gulps of air as I wailed and sobbed.

The woman that raised me, that fed me, that kissed me better had just discarded me. All the years I thought she loved me unconditionally meant nothing. She hated me.

I felt two hands lift me from the floor. I would have to face my father now. It was going to be worse than my mother.

As he lifted me from the floor I couldn't look him in the face. I cried. His son standing before him dressed as a woman.

He pulled my head to his chest.

"It's ok son. We'll work things out. It'll be ok."

"Please dad, don't hate me. It's just I never wanted to be a boy. I just.."

"Shush son, It's alright. I understand. You are what you are. I will always love you. I will always support you."

"But mum said she.."

"She didn't mean it. She's a good woman your mum. It's something she hates. I never realized until we married, she has a problem with the whole LGBT thing. She has an irrational fear, even hatred for anything that isn't what she sees as normal."

"What am I going to do dad. I want this."

"I can see that. What do you call yourself?"

"Kirsty Dad."

He hugged and kissed me.

"Pleased to meet you Kirsty. I will make sure I take her out more often. I’ll make sure you have time to be Kirsty. If she asks, I'll say I spoke to you and it's just a phase. I know it's not though Kirsty is it?"

"No dad, it's been inside for years. I can't stop it."

"We'll work things out. I have some money put by she doesn't know about. When you turn 18, if you want to move out, I can help. You can be Kirsty whenever you want then."

I hugged him.

"Thanks dad. I thought you would hate me for this."

"Kirsty, I'm old, but I'm not stupid. I suppose I'm the opposite to your mum. I have always thought that people should be allowed to love who they want and dress like they want to. What right does anyone else have to tell anyone else how to live their life?"

"Thanks dad. I know I never say it, but I love you."

"I love you too Kirsty. Just the same as I love Simon. I'll be here for you both. Just come and see me when it gets tough being Simon, and I'll see if I can help. You'll get there in the end Kirsty. I'm sure of it."

"Thanks dad. I better get changed."

"Oh yes. Hide your clothes in the garage. There's an empty box under my toolbox. She's bound to look in your room. If she asks me, I'll say you threw them out."

I went upstairs confused. One thing I knew was that I had the best dad in the world.

Peter stood fixed, looking at the coffin down at the bottom of the grave. David, his best friend, was trying hard not to break down as he threw a handful of dirt on top of the casket. His daughter, Sarah, hugged him trying to stay strong for the pair of them.

Peter could hold on no longer, he sobbed uncontrollably. David moved across to Peter and hugged him. Men were meant to be strong and stalwart, but they both loved Linda so much.

"It's okay to cry, Pete, it's okay,” David sobbed.

Peter hugged him, burying his head in David's chest.

"She was such a wonderful woman, Dave. The world’s a little less, without her in it."

The rain started to fall and the mourners quickly dispersed.

Back at David's house, the wake was a sober occasion. Friends went over the good moments they had shared with Linda. Peter could see that David was getting more upset by the minute. The way Linda died was awful.

The cancer in her brain had been discovered too late to respond to chemo, and was inoperable. Peter had gone to hospital with David many times over the last few months of her life. He watched as the wonderfully cheerful woman, who had helped him cope when his wife died in a car accident, disappeared.

Towards the end, she didn't even know who she was, much less who David was. It was so cruel. David had lost his wife two weeks before she died. The last time they visited her, they were just leaving when she spoke coherently for the first time in weeks.

"Take care of him, Peter."

Then the light in her eyes dulled and she fell asleep. Later that night while they were in David's kitchen drinking tea, the call came from the hospital.

That was two weeks ago. As the wake ended, only Sarah, Peter, and David remained.

"Are you okay to give me a lift to the airport, Pete?"

Sarah had come back from Australia to attend her mother's funeral, but she had to get back to her young family.

"I told you, Sarah, I'm doing it!"

"No, Dad. You need to rest."

"I'll have plenty of time for that later. I'm not going back to work until Monday."

Peter decided not to go with them, and made his way back to his house in Harlow. When he arrived home, the empty feeling of the house struck him. It always felt like this since Ruth died. Now his friend would experience the same feeling.

He had been awarded six hundred thousand pounds from the insurance company for Ruth's death. He had paid off his mortgage and retired early. He was only fifty-eight, and Ruth's death had spurred him to do things he had always wanted to do.

One of those things was cross-dressing. He had seen men that dressed as women described as perverts and mentally ill in the Sunday papers. He resolved to stop doing it. Much as he tried, he couldn't.

When he was nineteen, he met Ruth. Soon after they turned twenty, they were married. Ruth was so upset when they found she could not have babies, she offered him a divorce. He had told her he would stay with her until the end of time. She was enough for him.

One night when she was out with the girls from work, she had returned home early. She found him wearing her underwear and a loose-fitting, red dress. After she got over her shock, she broke down crying. She told him she knew she was not woman enough for him. It was her fault he cross-dressed.

He quickly changed back, and swore it wasn't her fault. He promised never to do it again. He didn't. It was so hard to resist, but his love for Ruth saw him through. She had been dead for two years now, and he dressed whenever he was alone.

He had taken to having holidays at caravan parks on the Essex coast. He would list himself as a couple. The plan would be for him to get dressed and go out into the world as a woman. This was his ambition. He just wanted to be acknowledged as a woman.

Save walking to his car and back at night, he never found the courage to go out in the light of day. He always promised himself next time. He had started to put pictures of himself as Petra on adult-contact sites. He was shocked at the responses. There were so many horny men offering sex. Things had certainly changed from when he was young.

He enjoyed the exchange with many of them. He never answered the crude messages, just the nice, kind-sounding men. Answering questions from a female perspective, just made him feel more feminine. He loved being spoken to as if he were an attractive woman. This never really happens to men. He wasn't naïve, he knew most of them were trying to get into ‘her’ knickers.

He had met two men while he was away. He did not want any ‘fallout’, so only met while staying away on holiday. Both of the men had been charming and treated her like she was a woman. She craved this and responded to them. The encounters did end in her giving them sexual release. She found the idea didn't repulse her. She couldn't have done it while presenting as a man, but as a woman, it seemed natural.

Later that year, she had booked another break near Yarmouth. She had several men that wanted to meet Petra. Her favorite was ‘sid22’. He had no profile picture, but his messages seemed sincere. He always signed off with a kiss. He told her if they met, he would not expect sex. He said he had always had a fascination for trans women and cross-dressers.

She arrived at the holiday park at four in the afternoon. She used Veet to remove all her body hair. After a good warm shower, she sat in the bedroom pulling on her stockings. After that, she stuffed her bra with her ‘chicken fillets’. Her knickers felt wonderful as she pulled them up her smooth, stocking-clad legs. This always used to get her excited. Now it just felt ‘right’. It was like a pressure valve being released.

Then came the makeup and wig, then finally her little black dress. She wore only two inch heels. She hoped Sid would be taller than her. She liked to look up at her men. By seven, she was ready. She had thirty minutes until Sid arrived. So she made herself a coffee and laughed when she saw the lipstick mark on her cup. Women's problems, she thought.

There was a knock on the door of the chalet.

"Petra, it's Sid, are you there?"

"Coming, Sid."

She opened the door and stood back in shock. Standing there in his best suit, carrying flowers and chocolates, was David. She stepped back from the door as he stepped in.

"Are you okay, Petra?"

He did not recognize her. She knew when she got the makeup right, she looked like a woman in her forties, so it shouldn't have surprised her.

"Err, please sit down, Sid. Do you want a drink? I have tea, coffee or beer."

"Here these are for you. You look more beautiful in person, Petra. I'm so glad you agreed to meet me."

David sat down on the sofa, while Petra made herself busy making them tea and putting the flowers in water. No one had ever given her flowers. It was an exclusively female gift. She felt… strange. Dave didn't recognize her. Should she get rid of him, or risk an hour or so, and hope the penny doesn't drop.

Something in her made her want to keep him there. She knew how lonely her friend was. He just needed company.

She sat in a chair opposite him. He sat on the sofa with his legs apart.

She had hers close together and pulled the hem of her dress over her knees modestly.

‘Sid’ told her that as a teenager he had a date with a boy who lived full-time as a girl. He had an attraction to trans women ever since. He told her he would never go with another woman while his wife was alive. He choked up when he told her that she had died recently.

Petra couldn't help it, she crossed to the sofa and wrapped her arms around him.

"Oh Dave, it's okay, she loved you. I'm sure she'd understand."

David pulled back. His eyes wide.

"Pete? Is that you?"

She had given herself away. She just saw her friend in pain and wanted to comfort him. She tried to stand, but her heel slipped on the stone floor. She fell back on top of David crying.

"Oh god! You must think I'm a pervert. I'm sorry. I didn't know Sid was you. Please don't hate me."

"No, Petra. I'm sorry I called you, Pete. You're Petra, and a beautiful woman."

"You don't mind?"

"We all have our secrets, Petra. Now you know mine. Please tell me how you came to be."

They chatted into the night. Petra brought out a bottle of Jack Daniels. As the whiskey took effect, they both relaxed and chatted. They discovered new things about themselves and each other. Before they knew it, they were close together on the sofa. David's arm wrapped around Petra's shoulder.

She felt something she had never felt before, physical attraction to a man. She loved David as a friend. That was when she was Peter. Now she felt love for him for being a man, as Petra. She noticed his strong jaw, his broad chest. She felt his strong arms pulling her into him. She gazed up into his eyes. So much pain and sadness, yet so much kindness.

She stretched her neck and kissed him gently on the lips. He responded and pulled her head closer to his. His tongue tentatively explored hers. Their breathing grew rapid. His hand gripped her thigh, feeling the lump of her suspenders. Her hand went to his chest and explored the greying hair.

"No! I'm sorry Pete. You are my best friend and I promised Petra this wasn't about sex."

They parted. Both realizing that the alcohol was clouding their judgement. It would affect their friendship if something like this happened while they were drunk. It would be something, one or both, may regret. Petra respected that.

"Well you can't drive home now, Dave; you've had nearly half a bottle of whiskey. Stay over and spend Sunday with me. Go home tomorrow afternoon."

"Thanks beautiful. Where do I sleep?"

"This is a one-bedroom chalet. There is only one double bed. If you promise to keep your hands off my knickers. You can sleep with me."

He seemed a little hurt at the remark.

"Petra, I wouldn't take advantage of you. I love Pete too much for that. I'm getting to know Petra and wouldn't want to upset her."

She could see he was serious, and she regretted her little joke.

"Come on, I have a spare toothbrush in my bag. Give me fifteen minutes to get ready for bed."

She soon slipped into bed wearing a dark blue, lace-trimmed, satin nightgown. Dave joined her after a few minutes. He was just in his underwear. She noticed his manly cologne as he covered himself with the duvet. Within minutes, he was snoring. Bloody typical man, she thought to herself.

Sometime in the night, she woke up. She felt Dave's arm around her waist. He was pulling into him spooning. She felt his hardness through her nightgown. He was breathing evenly; he was still sleeping. She realized he must have slept like this with Linda.

She thought about moving, but she was enjoying it too much. Being held by a strong man. She felt so womanly. It was like he wanted to protect her.

The next morning, Dave woke up to the smell of coffee and bacon. It reminded him of Sunday mornings with Linda. Petra placed the tray on the bed next to him. Eggs, bacon, tomato, and fried bread.

"Wow, Petra. I've not had breakfast in bed since, since..."

"I know Dave. Please enjoy it. She did ask me to look after you didn’t she."

He smiled sadly.

"Yes she did. Clever woman, Linda. Clever woman."

After breakfast, they both dressed. Petra was busy swishing around in a dark green knee length dress and high heel boots. She loved the feel of this domesticated scene. She felt like she was doing what other housewives were doing.

"What do you want to do today, Dave?"

"I want to take you for a walk along the seafront."

"What? I told you. I have only ever been out at night. I'm not convincing enough to pass in the daylight."

"You do realize that makes you a typical woman. I'm too fat. This dress makes my bum look big. You women are always running yourself down. Well, you look like an attractive, middle-aged woman Petra. I would be proud to have you on my arm."

"Do you really think no one will know I'm a man?"

"You're not a man, Petra. Remember you're a woman. Be confident and no one will give you a second glance."

She had butterflies in her stomach as she got out of David's car. She almost forgot her handbag.

"Come on Petra, put your arm in mine. Remember. All anyone will see is a man and his wife out for a walk.”

As they strolled down the pavement next to the beach, she was aware of her clothing. The click of her heels, the feel of her skirt flicking across her nylon-covered legs. All these things screamed woman in her mind.

They walked past an old couple walking a dog. They nodded and said good morning. Soon they were walking past busy amusement arcades. Not one person gave them a second glance. This was a dream come true. She was in public and passing as a woman. Her heart filled with joy.

"Come on, let's get a drink. There's a pub over there."

"No, Dave, I'm too scared."

"Come on, you'll be fine. You can sit outside while I go in and get the drinks."

He squeezed her hand, and led her to the beer garden.

As she sat at the table she glanced nervously around. A man across the other side of the garden smiled and winked at her. Dave returned with the drinks and she relaxed again. She was really beginning to enjoy it.

"I wish this would never end, Dave. I wish we could stay like this forever. Just us. Me being a woman with her man."

"It could, if you want to. Why don't I stay all week with you? We can go shopping and I'll buy some more clothes. We can see how we feel about each other."

Possibilities exploded in her mind. The chance to play the part of Dave’s wife all week. She would need some more clothes too. They could go to one of the bigger supermarkets and shop together. She felt confident in herself now.

"Dave, if it works out, I would love to be your woman full-time. If you’ll have me?"

"Petra, I think I fell in love with you last night. All I've been thinking about is how we can do it. We could both sell our houses and move to the coast. Once we're there, no more Peter, only Petra. For the rest of our lives."

They stood to leave. Petra pulled David's face down to hers. They had a long, drawn-out kiss. It only stopped when the other customers in the beer garden started cheering. They both laughed and headed back to the car.

Petra felt dizzy. There was so much going through her mind. The possibility of a new life for both of them. They had both lost so much, but now they could gain so much. They were going to live the lives that they had secretly wanted. They had been good partners to their wives. Now they would be partners, and lovers to each other.

Petra felt like her life was starting anew. Now it was time for her dream to come true.

Part 2

I have added this to the main story. I will add the other parts as I write them as well as upload them as separate parts.

Peter arranged for most of his furniture to go into storage. He had sold his house in just a few months. He moved in with David after that. He resisted slipping into his “Petra” mindset. They were both worried they would bet caught. Even in 2022 there were plenty of narrow-minded people that would make their lives hell.

The plan they had was hold on until they moved into a new house with each other. They wanted the few friends they had to keep their memories of them as two normal men. They were both in their late fifties and things like that mattered to them.

Peter was going to tell the small amount of family he had, that he was moving to Canada. He would change as soon as they arrived at their new house, then stay as Petra forever.

They had discussed it at length in the evenings while watching TV together.

David asked,

“You do realize that you will never ear trousers again? I like my women to look feminine always.”

“Yes Dave, I’m happy to do that. Stop worrying.”

“Your whole life will be, knickers instead of pants, skirts instead of trousers, blouses instead of shirts, stockings instead of socks, slips instead of vests, bra’s instead of, I don’t know. It’s a big change.”

“Yes one that I’m really looking forward to. There will be makeup, wigs and perfume. I’ll have time to pamper myself. With the money I have in the bank we won’t need to work. We can enjoy life.”

“I just don’t want you to have any regrets. When we move in I will never treat you as a man again. My best friend Peter will have moved to Canada, and I will be living with Petra.”

“My job is to be the best woman I can be. Yours will be showing how much you appreciate my effort. I am going to register with a doctor there and tell him I’m transgender. I want a gender recognition certificate.”

“Do you? You want to go all the way?”

“Well possibly not. I just want to be officially recognized as a woman. You don’t have to have the op to get the certificate.”

“I’ll support you any whatever happens. I’m really missing Petra. I just wish we both didn’t have these hang ups.”

“Petra is missing you too Dave. It will be worth it. We’ll have the rest of our lives together.”

David felt like kissing him, but knew they would both feel awkward.

They went house hunting at the weekends. Peter did all the searching while David was working out his notice. They had an offer on Peter’s house a week later. All they needed to do was find their forever home.

That weekend they viewed an empty bungalow at Frinton. It was high on a hill that looked over the Essex coast. Peter knew that due to the high percentage of older people retiring that Frinton was affectionately known as God’s waiting room.

A few weeks later they had donated all the furniture they did not need to charity and the moving date was set. Peter would not help with the move. He was going to stay in a hotel and arrive as Petra the next day.

He was very emotional when he left the night before the move. He had tears in his eyes as he hugged David and said goodbye.

“What’s the matter Peter? I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.”

“If all goes well Dave, you’ll never see Peter again. I know this is what I want, but it feels like Peter is dying. You may never see him again.”

“Oh Pete, you can be Peter anytime you want. I won’t mind.”

“No Dave. I want you to grow to love Petra. That won’t happen if you wake up next to Peter. Just say goodbye and you will see Petra tomorrow.”

Peter had planned to stay in the premier inn just outside Clacton, He would stay the night and remove all of his hair using depilatory cream. In the morning he would have his breakfast and turn into Petra. Forever he hoped. He planned to throw his last male clothing into the bin.

When he arrived at the hotel he checked in and saw the little plastic box to deposit the key when you left. Perfect, he thought. He paid for his room and his breakfast as he checked in. Peter arrived, and the next morning Petra left.

She had remembered that she would need to change into trainers to drive and took her two inch heels off as she sat in the car. It felt so different for her sitting in her car in a skirt and stockings. As she drove she felt her nylon covered legs rubbing together. It stuck her, this would be the sort of thing she would feel for the rest of her life.

Genetic women would never think like this, as they wear soft sensuous clothes all their lives. It becomes common place, and probably a nuisance. She thought. She wondered if she would get to that stage. She hoped not. She knew David enjoyed feminine women.

She waited at a junction to turn onto the main road. The stream of car was continuous. A car flashed her. The driver smiled and let her pull out. Well she thought, that didn’t happen much to Peter.

A few minutes away now, she practiced her female voice. She had found she could talk in a higher voice if she put on a slight Scottish accent. She practiced with David until she didn’t sound like Mrs. Doubtfire.

The front door was open when she arrived. David had been sorting out the boxes in the kitchen.

“Leave that Dave. This is my domain. You sit down and I’ll make us a nice cup of tea.”

David looked up and gave her a broad smile.

“Petra, I’m glad you’re here. This place needs a woman’s touch.”

He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her as she was standing at the sink filling the kettle. He kissed her gently on the back of the head.

“I missed you Petra. I don’t want you to go again.”

Petra felt his strong arms around her. It felt so right. She felt protected and didn’t want the moment to pass.

“Come on Dave. Let’s have this tea. Then I’ll go and make the bed. Then it’s the bathroom, Kitchen and living room to sort out. Do you mind if I don’t cook tonight?”

“No problem. There is a chip shop half a mile away. I’ll nip out when we are hungry.”

They both worked hard over the next few hours. Petra noticed David wouldn’t let her lift anything heavy. He was really into the idea of her being Petra now. Around six, they both slumped down on the sofa to rest.

“Right love what do you want from the chippy?”

“Just chips for me. I’m watching my weight. I know they aren’t healthy, but the smaller the better.”

“You’re the boss Petra. I should be back in about twenty minutes.”

As David drove off she walked around the house. It felt strange. She was now the lady of the house. She would take on all the jobs a wife would traditionally do. Cleaning, washing, ironing and cooking. She would choose the decorations too.

As a widower, she knew how to do all those jobs. Now though, she would be doing them dressed and acting like a woman. This sent a shiver of anticipation through her. She had dreamed of this since childhood.

Back in the 70’s she knew she would have probably been sent somewhere horrible if she had told anyone. She had read accounts of people being given electric shocks to stop them wanting to be female. It was sick that these people would think. “Why would any man ever want to be a woman?” You must be insane.

She had bottled it up, "manned up" and joined the Army. That was when Peter met David. David had been a friend and a protector ever since. Peter loved his wife, and her love kept him strong enough to suppress it. It never went away though. When she died the urge came rushing back. She didn’t regret her marriage, but did regret the time she wasted not being who she was meant to be.

When Dave arrived carrying a bag of delicious food, he found her with her head in her hands sobbing.

“Oh Petra, whatever’s the matter?”

“Nothing you’ve done Dave. I just can’t believe this is true. I get to live my dream. I didn’t hate being Peter, but it was like I lived my whole life in disguise, behind a mask. Now the woman that has struggled to be free has been released.”

“Petra I have to tell you; I have been attracted to you since we met in the army. I would never have told you though. I felt so bad about. I thought I was gay. It messed my head up. You know how gays were treated in the army. When I met Linda I realized I loved women too. She was my first and only. I loved her feminity. When I saw Petra, I felt the same about her. I loved Peter as a brother. I could love Petra as a woman. Does that sense? Because it confuses me.”

“Yes it does. I could not kiss you as Peter. Petra wants to kiss you and more.”

“Well that’s that sorted. Dry your eyes in dish the food up, it getting cold woman.”

As Petra took the bag into the kitchen he gave her a friendly smack on the backside.

Another first, she thought. There would be so many more of them in her future.

After trying on his mothers underwear and being screamed at by his father, he knew that a boy wanting to be a girl was a horrible thing. He knew at the tender age of six he must bottle it up and never speak of it.

One day his mother and her friend were getting him and his brothers dressed and he heard his brother screaming.

"No,no, there girls. They have a rose on them."

His mother was trying to dress his older brother in a pair of plain with girls knickers. She cut the flower off the waistband and tried again. His brother refused. Her friend tried with him. He ached to wear them, but knew his brother would never let him forget it. So he started the pattern of behavior of that would haunt him and remind him of "what if" possibilities later in life.

Year later he asked his mother and she said that girls knickers were cheaper than boys pants?

Growing up he was always jealous of the girl's pretty clothes and the attention they got. They teachers called girls by their first name, but boys were called by their surname. Girl's could keep their hats on in church, whereas boys had to remove theirs. You had to give your seat up to a women or a girl on a bus. Girls were different , better. He played with the boys and sometimes girls from his flat, but always tried to play with the girls if he could.

At twelve years old while staying with his widowed grandmother, they were both soaked on a trip to the shops. She told him to strip his clothes off and he shivered under a blanket. She asked him if he wanted to wear a pair of his dead grandfather's underwear. He refused, then she asked if he would wear some of hers. He of course felt he had to refuse. Another what if to add to the what if pile.

Growing up in a small north London flat there was little chance of privacy. As grew he would borrow his mum's underwear from the airing cupboard and snatch a few moments of happiness in the locked bathroom. Nothing sexual at that age.

As he grew he found out what women looked like between their legs he made what he later would learn was a gaff. It was made entirely from elastic bands. It was painful but when he wore it, it pulled his penis back between his legs and he looked smooth down there.

At twelve years old he was involved in a car accident while riding his bike. Although painful he was grateful as he was due to be circumcised as he returned to school and did not want to explain to his friends why he was in hospital.

He hoped they would slip and accidentally cut it off during the operation. It never happened.

After the operation his small inoffensive "willy" expanded to almost adult proportions .He hated it. The only saving grace was the positive comments from his peers in the changing room, spread among some of the girls. Although he was too painfully shy to ask any out.

His father had a signature stamp he used for processing his paperwork. He had an idea. He could have time off school sick, write his own sick note and use the stamp to sign it. As his mother worked from 9.30 AM to 3PM , he would have the house to himself.

It started with just wearing the underwear. Then grew to include a blouse and skirt. At fourteen his legs were still relatively smooth. They looked really good in his mothers chocolate coloured tights. He added a scarf and a little lipstick and decided to go out. Later in life he would never take such a chance, but at fourteen you don't think of all the ways you can get caught.

Living at the top floor of a four story block in meant he would have to walk down four flights of stairs past everyone's front door. He got away with this and managed to walk down the street in his mothers cork wedge sandals. He had the idea of walking about a mile to a local park then return home.

He walked without incident to the park, but due to the tension, desperately needed the toilet. So he decided to brave the ladies toilet. As he came out a kindly old lady ask him if he was alright. Did she know? He walked away quickly.

These trips became a regular thing for a a few months. He must have done this five of six times. On the last trip as he climbed the stairs he saw a school friend waiting near his front door. Time stopped. Stupid ideas of what to say went through his head. Instead he just pushed past and opened then quickly slammed the front door..

A few days later he told his friend that while he was "bunking off" his aunt came into the flat and he had to hide in the cupboard for an hour. His friend said he was on the stairs and a woman went by him. Had he really gotten away with it? The scarf did cover a lot of his head.

At the age of fifteen he was working three jobs and had very little opportunity to crossdress.

He left school and became a apprentice electrician. He had always enjoyed playing with electrical things and did well. Still every time he was at home alone he would dress in his mothers clothes.

In his late teens he started dating and urged his girlfriends to wear sexy underwear. If he could not wear it he could touch it on their soft womanly bodies. He lived his femininity through theirs. At a party the hostess asked him if she could dress him as a woman to fool a friend of hers. As he was meant to be meeting a girl their he refused. One of the biggest what if moments of regret.

He eventually met the woman who he was to marry. She told him once that she would wear stockings for him if he beat her at darts. If she won he would have to. Of course he lost. They would play with his crossdressing often and he was happy. If he could not be a woman, he could dress and have sex with one. It was an acceptable compromise.

Almost as soon as they married she expressed a dislike for his crossdressing. Even the sex stopped. She was only interested when she wanted another child. He had always been the happy cheerful, reliable type, so all of the frustration was kept bottled up. He had a wife and child to support. That should be enough for any man.

In a moment of stupidity he decided he would take her birth control pills to spite her. He took two a day for months. He noticed fat deposit on his breasts had increased. He cold still get hard but it took longer. This gave him a thrill to know next time she wanted a child she would have to work harder to get one. A stupid thing to do he realised later in his life.

Sometimes she would go out on coach trips with the children and her parents. he always made an excuse about having to work. These were opportunities to dress. Parking on the almost deserted top floor of a multistory car park he would pull on a skirt and high heel boots. The underwear would already be on under his male clothes. The moment he felt the skirt touch his legs he felt calm.

His long hair brushed into a feminine style and with a little makeup he looked convincing. Walking around the north London shopping center felt so right he wished it could last forever. Why was it so unfair? Why was this so wrong. He wasn't hurting anyone. It was his body. No, he knew the emotional and financial fallout would be devastating. He had a family and a mortgage. He was a man after all.

That's the way his life went. An almost sexless marriage and a deep longing to be, or at least live as a woman. Now in his fifties, he takes short breaks on his own. These are just opportunities to explore the life he wishes he had. He experimented with meeting men through contact sites. The intimacy is often welcome, but the real need is for being seen and treated as a women.

He is realistic, he knows if he braved the fallout now, that their is no guarantee he would be happy. So he does what he has always done. Just what electricity does, takes the path of least resistance. Often regretting the girl he never was.

Crossdresser lives out her dream of being a housewife

She heard the front door close, Dave was home.

"Hi babe, how have you been?" he said.

"Good thanks honey how was work?" she replied.

"Hard day, still trying to catch up from last week, I'm tired and ready
for a rest," said Dave.

"You sit down and relax, I'll bring you a beer," she said, smiling to
herself.

This was what she had dreamed of since she was a little boy. Sitting at
her mother's feet, touching her silky stockings, wanting to be just like
her.

His mother was "good housewife," she kept the home clean, warm and safe.
He had grown up admiring her.

Kenny's father had left the family when he was three. She had no male
role model, only kind, pretty females.

She had learned early that is was "dirty" to look up ladies skirts, if
you was a boy that is.

She was fascinated by the frothy, frilly and silky things he saw. He had
touched his mother's smooth frilly underwear in her top draw. It felt so
nice to touch, so how good must if feel to wear?

She did it one day when she was in the garden and he was meant to be
playing in his room.

She went to her mother's drawer and took a pair of black nylon knickers,
they had three rows of frilly lace at the back, (every tv/cd remembers
her 1st pair!)

They were too big, but felt wonderful. How good must it be wear clothes
like this all day?

She had asked his mother to buy him nice frilly underwear like his
sister. She told him not to be silly, little boys don't wear girl's
clothes. It was very bad and wrong if they did.

So she learned to hide her "bad" side and sneak into his sisters and her
mother's underwear draws every chance she got.

When she left home and lived alone, this gave her the space and privacy
to dress as she liked.

She accumulated a large collection of frilly underclothes. She preferred
French knickers, silk was her favourite material. She loved to keep her
suspenders tight on her stockings. As she walked about the tugging of the
Elastic moved her silky knickers across her small, erect clit.

Her choice of fashion was mainly 50's or 60's housewife. She had girdles,
petticoats and house dresses.

One day while she was searching for retro underwear online, she
discovered a contact site where people like her posted pictures of
themselves. After she created an account under the name of Kirstywife,
she posted some pictures of herself fully dressed and in her sexiest
undies. She felt so naughty.

Never having had a girlfriend, she assumed she may be gay, but she
thought gay men did not like women. As she spent every minute she wasn't
working dressed as a woman, she thought no gay man would want her.

When she arrived home from work she checked the site. She had over
seventy messages! Mostly from men who wanted her to do very naughty
things to, and for them.

She wanted to be treated as a woman, She wanted to be cared for and
admired. Most of the messages were from men who just wanted sex.

She had a few awkward meetings with several men. She never really enjoyed
them, but they taught her what men liked.

Dave Rogers contacted him asking if he was genuine. He said he could see
what a beautiful sexy woman she was. He said he wanted to meet her just
to chat. He said he would love to cook for her and would not expect
anything more.

This was just what she wanted, just to be with a man as a woman.

Dave opened the door; he was a 40 year old well built builder, a little
overweight, just like her. Kirsty told Dave she always longed to be a
housewife.

Dave smiled, and told her she would make a lovely wife and he would be
honoured to have her live out her fantasy with him. They had parted with
a light kiss.

She travelled to his house early the next morning.

He told her she could change upstairs. After 45 minutes she nervously
came downstairs.

She wore a dark blue flower pattern "June Cleaver" dress. The dress was
held out with a wide net petticoat. She wore white three inch heels on
her feet. Under her dress she had on a long legged panty corselette, with
flesh coloured seemed stockings.

Dave smiled, and told her he would be glad to see such a lovely woman
welcome him when he got home.

After Dave left she gave his kitchen and living room a thorough going
over. It certainly needed it. He house needed a woman's touch she
thought.

She was in heaven; she was a housewife cleaning "her" home, waiting for
her man to come home. Her "clit" was hard all day; this was all she
wanted out of life. This was what her life was meant to be!

She got dinner started and went up to change into something sexier for
when her man arrived home.

When Dave arrived, she greeted him with a kiss. She told Dave to sit
down. Soon she walked into the living room and gave Dave a beer and a
coaster.

"Thanks babe, I love what you've done with the place, perhaps I should
keep you here permanently," he said.

She almost came in her knickers, hearing that.

"I would love that, I would do anything to make that happen," she said.

"Anything eh?" he replied.

She stepped back and unbuttoned her skirt, and let it drop. He drew in
his breath. She was wearing silky black knickers with lace trim on the
legs, a black suspender belt, soft bra and fishnet stockings. She kicked
off her heels.

He could see the slight bulge of her "clit" in her panties. He felt
himself harden. This was his "ideal" woman. This was what he loved,
femininity.

He had always craved soft, pretty feminine women. They were hard to find
in the 2020's. Kirsty seem to revel in her femininity. He wanted a woman
who loved being soft and pretty. Someone who needed to be dominated and
wanted to be taken care of.

The fact that she had an "extra bit" did not bother him. He had had a few
flings with other men in his teens.

He wanted her! She went to her knees and unbuttoned his jeans and pulled
down his boxers. His cock sprang out rock hard. She kissed the tip, then
slowly stroked the length of his shaft, he groaned, she knew he was putty
in her manicured hands.

She lowered her head and took the whole of his glans into her mouth. She
used her tongue on its underside. He thrust it further into her mouth and
groaned. He stood and removed his jeans and boxers.

"You would do anything then?" he said

She nodded. He took her hand and led her upstairs to his bedroom. He sat
on the edge and she knelt and resumed giving him a blow job.

Lost now in the moment, being what she'd always dreamed of, a wife
looking after her husband. Looking into his eyes, she could tell he was
getting close to coming.

He pushed her away saying, "Not yet."

He lifted her onto the bed, her eyes wide, she knew what was coming next,
and wanted it.

He went to his bedside cabinet and took out a tube of lubricant.

Gently, he pushed her onto her back and lifted her stocking clad legs
over his shoulders.

The ultimate position of female submission. He was about to take her,
make her his!

With his hands free he pulled down the back of her silky knickers and
probed her hole. She gasped and squirmed, he took a generous amount of
lube and worked it into her. She relaxed revelling in his control, this
felt so right. He applied more lube to the tip of his cock while she
waited expectantly.

He pushed her legs further back higher and wider, looked her straight in
her eyes and said

"You did say Anything?"

She looked at him with lust filled eyes and said, "YES, YES!"

He slowly thrust into her, she thought briefly that he was not wearing a
condom, but was too filled with lust and need to stop him. A man should
take his wife bare.

Inch, by inch she felt him fill her. Inch, by inch she was becoming the
woman she wanted to be.

He was all the way in she felt his balls on her buttocks. She felt full
and whole.

This was what a wife felt when she was taken by her husband. He was still
for a moment letting her get used to him, and then slowly started to fuck
her.

After the slight burning sensation went, she only felt pleasure. She
pushed herself forward to meet his thrusts, wanting more of him in her.

Her heart was pounding she had never felt like this before.

He kept up a steady rhythm, she was close now. He slid his hand down the
front of her knickers, and grasped her 4 inch clit.

"Oh god!" she cried.

He started to gently stroke her in time with his thrusts. She felt him
swelling in her, he was close, but so was she.

"How would you like to be Mrs Rodgers then?"

"YES, YES, and YES!!" she screamed.

She came as she had never climaxed before.

Clenching her hole as she climaxed, driving Dave over the edge, so he
filled her with his seed. Marking her as his.

She lay in a daze, she knew, this is who she was meant to be. She gazed
up at him with love and said, "Yes, ANYTHING for my husband."

"Well then welcome to your new home Mrs Rogers."

She almost came again hearing this.

Her dream was coming true!

Dave smiled, he now had he ideal partner, someone who loved to wear all
the sexy clothes his ex-wife would never wear. Someone that wanted to
have sex with him, who loved being submissive to him. So she had a little
extra? He could live with that!

I learned the truth at seventeen
That love was meant for beauty queens
And high school girls with clear skinned smiles
Who married young and then retired

I had wanted to be a girl since I was five years old. I told my parents and was blamed for an endless stream of rows between them.

My father left us when I was ten. My mother blamed me. I couldn’t help what I was. After endless rounds of doctors and psychiatrists they finally let me take puberty blockers on the NHS.

I was thirteen and I had already started male puberty. My shoulders had developed and my voice had dropped. If only they had let me start sooner.

I started presenting as a girl, but we were shunned by our neighbours, and I lost the few friends I had.

“I’m not letting you have anything to do with that sick tranny.” My best friend’s mother told him.

Our house was egged and stones were thrown at our windows. My mother was put on antidepressants. She cried a lot.

The police told us it was best if we asked the council to move us. After a few more weeks of abuse at school and on the streets, we moved twenty miles away.

The new school meant a new start for me. I dreamed of new friends and perhaps even a boyfriend.

The valentines I never knew
The Friday night charades of youth
Were spent on one more beautiful
At seventeen I learned the truth

And those of us with ravaged faces
Lacking in the social graces
Desperately remained at home
Inventing lovers on the phone
Who called to say "Come dance with me”

I was never invited to anyone’s house after school. The boys avoided the square jawed gangly girl. I was nicknamed “gorilla girl” by some bright spark.

I was on hormones since sixteen. I had hoped they would make me fill out. I was desperate have breast like the other girls.

I started to get phone calls to my mobile. Someone suspected what I was.
“You’re a freak. We don’t like sicko’s around here. Leave or there will be trouble.”

I couldn’t tell my mother. She was barley functioning now.

And murmured vague obscenities
It isn't all it seems
At seventeen

And the rich relationed hometown queen
Marries into what she needs
With a guarantee of company
And haven for the elderly

It was torture for me seeing all the girls in my class chatting to boys, making dates and having fun. I had dreamed of that since I was ten. It had all seemed so easy in my head. Become a girl and I would live a life of love, fun and friendship.

Remember those who win the game
Lose the love they sought to gain
In debentures of quality
And dubious integrity

Their small-town eyes will gape at you
In dull surprise when payment due
Exceeds accounts received
At seventeen

My mother told me not to do it, but she loved me too much to stop me. Perhaps I would have been better off staying as a boy?

My mother was afraid I would be lonely. That I would never find anyone to love. We had each other, but we barely spoke. We were both so alone, so alone together.

To those of us who knew the pain
Of valentines that never came

I threw myself into sport, I was one of the best in my class. The school wouldn’t let me represent them in case of scandal. They didn’t want allegations of cheating.

And those whose names were never called
When choosing sides for basketball
It was long ago and far away
The world was younger than today
When dreams were all they gave for free
To ugly duckling girls like me

Now I sit here in my room contemplating the full bottle of aspirin. Thinking about what I thought my life could be, and what it is. At Seventeen .

We all play the game, and when we dare
To cheat ourselves at solitaire
Inventing lovers on the phone
Repenting other lives unknown

They call and say, "Come dance with me"
And murmur vague obscenities
At ugly girls like me
At seventeen

Janis Ian
At Seventeen lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC

That was long ago and far away. Now at thirty-five I'm a happy woman with a good job and friends. I think back to seventeen and realize life is tough. Nothing comes free. Some of us have to work hard for our dreams

Inspired by a comment on a story by joannebarbarella.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VMUz2TNMvL0

This is a story about having a second chance to be the person you were meant to be.

The traffic on the north circular was hell as usual. Typical London traffic. Everyone angry, everyone just trying to get home. No one giving an inch. It had been gridlocked for half an hour. I had promised my wife that by some miracle I would be home earlier than my normal 7pm to take her out to her favourite restaurant for her birthday.

Even if the traffic started to move, I would never make it back to Ware by seven. I felt my pulse quicken. Then the pain in my chest started again. I had been putting it down to indigestion. Like many men I thought it would just go away on its own.

I edged forward, then felt the impact from behind. Fucking hell, this will take ages to sort out! Beth will be mad. I hate letting people down. My boss told me that’s why my customers like me. I put them first. I put everyone first I had been told by many people.

I got out of the car and saw a red-faced giant baring down on me. His white van had destroyed my bumper. Brilliant, not only late, but I’m also going to get a beating from this fucking idiot.

“Why did you pull up so quickly you fucking moron?” He said.

He had rammed into me, I thought.

“You hit me you fucking twat! You should look where you’re going.”

Rage boiled up in me. Because of this fool, I would be late for my wife. I had to write a sales report tonight for the meeting tomorrow morning. I wasn’t going to bed much before 2AM now.

Then it happened. The pain in my chest was excruciating. I fell to my knees and passed out.

I have blurred memories of a mask over my face. Seeing the ambulance ceiling then blue sky then the lights of a hospital corridor. I was injected, then another mask.

“We’re losing him.”

“…clear!”

“Again! Clear”

I watched from beside my bed as these wonderful passionate people battled to save my life. I saw the line on the ECG remain flat. I just felt calm and curious. I felt regret for all the things I hadn’t done. I had promised to fix the latch on the back gate. Beth would have to pay someone now I thought. Very odd.

Above my head I saw a tunnel with a bright light at the end. I felt myself floating into it. I felt myself twist and turn as I progressed towards the light. Suddenly I was standing before a wall of blue, white light. Somehow, I knew if I stepped through that would be the end of my time on earth.
A shape formed out of light. Wispy at first, then solidified into my grandmother who died when I was twelve.

“Nan?”

“Hello Mark. Do you know what’s happened to you?”

“I’m dead, I think. Is this the gateway to the afterlife?”

“Yes, something like that. Do you want to go through?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Yes, you do. If you want it enough, you can still survive. It can end here, or you can fulfil your life’s dream.”

“I feel so calm nan. It’s like looking at someone else’s life.”

“Mark, you know that's true to some extent, don't you?”

“What do you mean. I raised two great kids. I worked all the hours I could to support my family. I tried to be a good husband and father. I went without for the sake of others.”

As I said this, scenes of my life came rushing back. I was gently weeping. I was justifying my life to myself.

“Mark, you were a wonderful father, husband and man, but that’s not what you ever wanted to be, was it?”

I knew she knew my secret. My soul was laid bare to her. Sixty years of pain and suffering welled up in a huge surge of grief.

“Noooooo.”

I hugged her so tight I thought I would hurt her. She pulled my head onto her shoulder.

“It’s ok. You sacrificed your happiness to be someone others would like, and they did. Isn’t it time you were happy? Have the courage to be your true self”

“But I’d be letting everyone down. They would hate me.”

“It’s time you were good to yourself. You lived a selfless life. Go back and live for you.”

I felt a tugging sensation pulling me away from the light. I tried to hold on to her. It was like holding onto water. I slowly slipped back down the tunnel.

“It’s Michelle by the way.”

“What nan?”

“What your mother would have named you.”

“I love you, nan.”

“I love you too Michelle.”

I was back in the emergency room.

“One last time. Put fresh gel on. Clear!”

I saw the ECG jump, then a steady beat resumed. I opened my eyes.

“He’s back. We’ve got him!”

A week later I was at home. My company got in touch and my boss told me to take as long as I needed to recover. A few weeks later I had put in for voluntary redundancy. My boss was sympathetic as he knew stress had been a major factor of my heart attack.

I had the dreaded discussion with my wife about what I wanted to do with my life. I was shocked. She knew. She said she had always had a feeling that I was never happy as a man. She said she would support me, but she did not want to live with me. She told me that the scandal would put too much pressure on our relationship, and we would end up hating each other.

I understood. My plan was to move away to somewhere where they didn’t know me and start life anew as Michelle. We filed for a no-fault divorce and divided our assets. She kept the house, and I kept my money. Her mother had died last year, and she had an income from renting her house as well as the job as a personnel manager. She would be fine.

When I told my children what I planned, my daughter said “cool”. My son said that he would never call me mum but said if it was something I needed to do, then he would still love me.

It took me 6 months to sort everything out. We had one last “normal” Christmas. My family got me gifts that I would need in the coming year. My son got me a makeup kit, my wife and daughter got me jewellery.

I moved out to a small flat in Brighton in March. I said an emotional goodbye to my wife on that cold frosty morning and set off to the flat that was to be my new home. I slept as Mark for one final night then Michelle said hello to the world.

I dreamed that night. A song that I used to play in my car kept playing in my head. The lyrics sort of made sense when I woke.

Take all your chances while you can
Never know when they'll pass you by
Like a sum a mathematician cannot solve
Like me trying my hardest to explain
It's all about your cries and kisses
Those first steps that I can't calculate
I need some more of you to take me over

This was my chance. I was taking my first steps today.

If I had the chance to start again
Then you would be the one I'd come and find
Like the poster of Berlin on my wall
Maybe there's a chance our walls might fall
It's all about your cries and kisses
Those first steps that I can't calculate
I need some more of you to take me over
It's all about your cries and kisses
Those first steps that I can't calculate

Now I did have the chance to start again. Thanks to nearly dying that day I had re-evaluated my life. I wasn’t sure if what happened was a dream or real, but I was glad I experienced it.

I need some more of you to take me over
I've no idea 'cause
I can't calculate
How to start again
How to start again
How to start again
How to start again
It's all about you.

Michelle was going to take over now. It was her time.

I took my time getting ready that first morning. I spent hours in the bathroom removing every trace of body hair. I wrapped the towel around my upper chest. I thought I had better get used to these little differences. I planned to start taking hormones as soon as possible and to have breast augmentation.

I opened the top drawer of my new chest of drawers I paused to gaze at my underwear. The underwear I planned to wear for the rest of my time on earth. I had all sorts of knickers. Plain cotton, frilly nylon, French knickers, I had even brought myself some silk vintage Janet Reger knickers and a slip. Michelle had sixty years of catching up to do.

I chose a pair of pink full cut nylon knickers with an inch of lace around the legs. I wore the matching bra that I filled with mastectomy prosthetics. I chose some 20 denier black tights, a dark purple blouse and a calf length black skirt.

I took my ginger shoulder length wig and pulled over my own hair. Sometime soon I planned to get hair extensions when my own hair had grown a little more. Now the moment of truth. I walked over to the full-length mirror beside my bed.

Michelle stared back at me. She wore an expression of shock and surprise. She had been imprisoned in Mark for sixty years. Finally she was released. Even without makeup I saw I looked feminine. I felt so “right”. This was how I should have always faced the world. I was finally “me”.

I sat in the chair in front of my vanity mirror and cried tears of joy. It felt like I was being rewarded for years of service. I could now be me. The potential of my new life swam around my head. There were so many things Michelle wanted to do.

I waited until the tears stopped and set about making up my face. I had spent the last six months watching and reading how to do this. I made a mess of it. It took three attempts until I was satisfied. The makeup smoothed away Mark’s masculine edges. I just stood and gazed at myself. I couldn’t believe this was happening. I recalled all tiny moments in my past where I snatched a few fleeting minutes in some borrowed clothing.

This was my life from now on. Looking, living and acting like a woman. I was Michelle now.

I wasn’t naïve. I knew there would be a mass of problems along my coming journey, but my journey was beginning. I chose a pair of black ankle boots with a small heel, and a black quilted coat. I picked up the last few vestiges of Mark from the bedroom floor and headed out the door.

Michelle was ready to say hello to the world.

The lyrics are from one of my favourite songs. Chances by Athlete.

A trans girl seeks the love of her life. The idea was given to me by Michelle.

Lee looked at himself in the mirror. Staring back at him with tear filled eyes was an incredibly cute, sexy looking girl. The perfect makeup was starting to run a little due to the tears. His life was over. He would be the object of ridicule. It was all that bitch Cindy’s fault.

Charles, Lee and Cindy had been best friends through University. Charles had grown up with Lee and they were best friends. Lee was always the smart one, Charles the athletic one. Through junior and senior school Lee had helped Charles with homework, and Charles protected Lee from bullies.

Charles was 6ft tall with long blond hair, his square jaw and rugged good looks made him a magnet for the girls. Lee on the other hand was only in demand when class mate’s tech went wrong. He made friends, but not close friends with girls. They liked him, but none saw the short skinny boy as a potential mate.

Charles was studying for a degree in accounting. He was finding it very difficult. Lee spent a lot of his spare time helping Charles, much to the annoyance of Cindy. Charles would not admit he was struggling, so he told Cindy that Lee needed him as he was suffering from depression. Lee didn’t mind the deception as he owed his life to Charles.

When they were 14, Charles took Lee fishing. Lee cast his line with a little too much force and fell headfirst into the river. There had been a storm earlier that week and the fast flowing river swept Lee downstream towards the weir. Charles saw the danger and dived in to save Lee. A superhuman effort saw Charles dragging a lifeless Lee from the river. Charles remembered seeing resuscitation on a medical drama. He turned Lee over and pushed on his chest to force the water from his lungs. Then he put Lee on his back and blew air into him.

Coughing up the last of the water from his lungs, Lee looked up to see Charles’s golden hair framed in the sunlight, his very own guardian angel. The boys never told their parents, in case they kept them apart. The incident created an unbreakable bond between the boys, until Cindy happened.

Cindy was a tall confident leggy redhead. They had met in a bar at uni. She set her sights on Charles, but soon realised he and Lee were inseparable. She was outwardly pleasant towards Lee, but was always undermining him when her and Charles were alone.

She had told Lee there was a costume party, her and Charles were going to swap clothes and that Charles thought it would be really cool if Lee would too. Lee was reluctant. He had tried on his mothers clothes growing up. He was secretly thrilled, but did not want to seem too eager.

Cindy had shown him a photoshopped image of Charles in a dress, and Lee agreed. Cindy had made him shave his body hair and dressed him from the inside out. Her clothes fit almost perfectly on his skinny frame. The white lace knickers had given him an erection, so he had to tuck. The stockings felt so wonderful, they blew his mind. The tug of the suspenders as he walked moved the knickers subtlety.
The bra felt restrictive, but when she put the fillets in, he appreciated how feminine he looked in the mirror. She took some pictures of him like that. When he had put on the sexy red mini dress and the three inch red heels, she made up his face and put a dirty blond wig on his head.

Lee was shaking. He looked so beautiful. Something inside him clicked. This was what he should be. He had always felt different. He started to gently weep. Cindy took picture after picture and told him she was going to get Charles ready and would be back in an hour.
Lee spent the hour looking at himself, disbelieving what he saw in the mirror. He couldn’t wait to see Charles reaction. He noticed his phone had been pinging away to itself. He picked it up and saw Cindy’s facebook post.

“Look at the perv I caught wearing my clothes”

She wrote that she watched him dress and took pictures a he posed, looking at himself in the mirror. She posted picture of him in underwear, and fully dressed weeping. She wrote;

“When I caught him he begged me not to tell anyone he was dressing to attract Charles. He cried when I said that I was going to tell Charles everything.”

There were nasty and humorous comments from everyone he knew. His life was over. That bitch had won. He tore off the clothes and ran to his room. He packed his case and jumped into his old wreak of a ford fiesta and drove out of everyone’s life.

Five years later Charles was having lunch with Cindy outside a cafe five hundred yards away from their accounting company.

“Cindy, this has to stop it’s immoral.”

“Don’t be such a wimp Charles, if we played it your way we wouldn’t live in a penthouse flat in Canary Wharf, we’d be in a grotty little suburb. You keep your mouth shut, if anyone finds out I’ll make sure you are implicated too.”

“Surely we can just stop move our investment into ethical companies.”

“No, I don’t fucking care, you and I are going to be married in two months, and I want the most expensive wedding this city has ever seen. I’m senior partner, you fucking work for me. Now hurry up and finish, you have to interview that new P.A. while I talk to the people from Stillwell Steel.”

Cindy left, leaving a weary worried Charles. He shuffled back to the office and sat at his desk. He picked up the phone and said;

“Send in Ms Thomas please.”

There was a knock on the door, and in walked a stunning blond woman, her face captivated Charles. She looked so calm, happy and confident. Their eyes locked for a few seconds and there was an awkward silence.

“May I please sit?”

“Yes please, sorry I don’t know what came over me. Have we met?”

“I don’t think so. My names is Leah Thomas, Mr Brooks, do you think we have met?”

“No, you just remind me of someone, I can’t remember who though.”

The interview continued and Leah was offered the job and started the following Monday.

As P.A. to both owners she had access to both of their offices. Leah was a diligent worker she was often seen working away at her terminal after the rest of the office workers had left for home. Cindy didn’t particularly like her due to her innocent beauty, but could not disagree with her work ethic.
And work diligently Leah did, uncovering all the dirty secrets of the corrupt Cindy. She had been siphoning off money from their customers and investing in shill companies that were involved in blood diamonds, drugs and slavery.

Five weeks after she started she was showing inspector David Williams of the fraud squad into Cindy’s plush office. She heard Cindy screaming and threatening as she was handcuffed and lead away. She took out her phone and got a picture of Cindy’s twisted, angry face as they stuffed her kicking and screaming into the police car.

Charles had just come back from the coffee shop when the police car pulled away. He turned to Leah and said:

“What just happened?”

“You better come with me to your office, I have something to tell you.”

The closed the door and they sat down.

“Did you know your fiancee was investing in drugs and slavery?”

“No, I knew she was doing something illicit with the money she was siphoning off, but I did not know she had sunk that low.”

“So you really are innocent?”

“I may as well tell you, she has been holding the threat of implicating me in her schemes over me for some time. I really don’t want to marry her. She is a conniving bitch. She uses people and throws them away.”

“So you don’t love her then?”

“I did when I was younger, but I started to see her for what she was when she hurt my best friend.”

His voice grew thick and choked.

“She drove him away, I don’t know where he is now. I should have left her then, but she was the closest person to me after my friend left. She said it was a just a harmless joke, and he would come back.”

“Do you miss him then?”

“With all my heart. I saved his life and he made my life worth living. I was seen by most as a good looking dim wit. I always had trouble learning, but Lee was so good at reaching me, when he explained things they all made sense. I wish I could have told him what he meant to me while he was in my life.”

“There are three things you need to know Charles. I am a trained forensic accountant, that’s how I found out what Cindy was doing. Secondly, I removed any connection to you from the evidence I gave the police. Lastly you have told him, or I mean her how much he meant to you.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Look into my eyes Charles, it’s me Lee.”

She stood and Charles walked over to her, he stared down into her brown eyes, as she lost herself in his widening blue eyes.

“Oh my god! Lee, it is you. I knew there was something that drew me to you.”

He hugged her and squeezed until she hurt.

“Why, I mean what, I mean you look amazing, but why?”

“That day in Cindy’s room when she dressed me something clicked, I knew this was who I was meant to be. I thought you’d hate me, so I ran away from the shame of what Cindy did, and of what I knew I had to become. It’s Leah now, Lee’s gone.”

“I don’t hate you Lee, I mean Leah, I love you. I couldn’t admit it to myself then. If I had told you , I thought you would hate me, and call me gay. I have never fancied other blokes, but I wanted you so badly. It sort of makes sense now, I must have sensed your femininity. “

She looked up, and the years of hurt melted away. He lent down and kissed her long and deep. Their tongues explored each other’s. Her manicured hands reached around his neck and head. His strong arms lifted her by her firm bottom closer to him. Her heels left the ground. They broke away, Charles looking down at the tent straining against the zip in his trousers.

“I think we best try to straighten the books before we do anything else Charles.”

They both worked hard to put the money that had been stolen back into their customer’s accounts. By the end of the day the company had gone from having nearly three million, in the bank to a few hundred thousand. They kept a careful record of everything , and emailed it to the inspector.

“What are you going to do now Charles, go back to your penthouse?”

“I was rather hoping I could come home with you.”

She gave him a cheeky pinball smile and dragged him to her car by his tie.

They picked up a pizza on the way to Leah’s flat and caught up on the years they had been apart.

They sat on the sofa and embraced. This soon became a heated kiss. Charles undid Leah’s blouse, while she fumbled with his shirt.
They headed to her bed. Charles completely naked and Leah in her knickers and stockings. Her small breast bounced as she lay on her back on the bed. He pulled her soft body to his hot muscled frame and ran his fingers gently up and down her back . She reached down and caressed his hardness.

Charles pushed her on her back and caressed and licked her aroused soft breasts. His hand went down to her knickers, her hand reached down to stop him.

“I’m not a woman down there, I’m so sorry Charles, I shouldn’t have led you on, It’s just...”

“I love you Leah, I don’t care, all of you is beautiful to me.”

He reached in and found her small hard member He rubbed it with the palm of his hand as she shuddered. His fingers probed her opening. She squirmed.

“Have you ever had anything in there?”

“Only toys, never a man. There is some lube in my top draw.”

As he stood, she slid across the bed and took his semi erect member in her mouth and coaxed it to its full glory. He prepared her and lifted her legs over his shoulders. He entered her gently and slowly, responding to her breathing. He cared so much for her.

When he was all the way in she looked up through tear filled eyes. She finally felt like a woman. She looked up at his handsome face , his blond hair framed by the bedroom light. She could swear she was looking into the face of an angel.

I stood in my living room wearing a knee length pleated skirt, a white ruffled blouse, and black knee high boots. Underneath I could feel my suspenders pulling against the stockings as I shifted uneasily. The black basque I was wearing was slightly too tight. As I paced the living room, I felt the silk French knickers brushing against my cock. The feeling was incredible. My cock hardened slightly, but that was all.

It very rarely got hard now. That was why I was here wearing makeup with my nails painted pink Iwas waiting for my wife to return with the man she was to marry.

She was still only 30 years old. Her new partner was 35, a few years younger than me. She still had the potential to have at least 10 more children. I had only managed to father a single child. Chloe was my life; she was 2 now. I loved her so much it hurt.

Dani and I had been under a lot of pressure from the FMD, the Female Motherhood Department. All women of breeding age must have as many children possible. This was to maintain and rebuild the population after the virus.

The virus started in South America and soon spread throughout the world. It killed 50% of the population. Unfortunately, 75% of its victims were female. This lead to the situation we are in today. There are 4 men for every woman. Worse still only 20% of the women are of childbearing age.

We had married just as the virus started. We isolated took the vaccinations like everyone else. None of the seemed to work. We all saw parents and family die. Now Dani and I have no one but each other. We have a deep love and promised never to part.

That was until the government came up with a compulsory program to replace the population. Females are compelled to be almost permanently pregnant. They must have one child per year. The government rewards them handsomely for each child. If a woman refuses, she is judged mentally ill and imprisoned in a prison hospital. Once in hospital they are implanted with fertilized eggs and forced to bare multiple children. They are only released after menopause.

My problem was I had erectile dysfunction and a low sperm count. I couldn't visit a doctor as they might report me to the FMD. They would have had me replaced immediately. After the birth of Chloe, we tried for another for nearly 2 years. Dani covered for me as long as she could, but then the letter from the FMD arrived demanding we attend a maternity hospital for tests. If we didn't turn up a warrant would be issued for our arrest.

The test proved Dani was a fertile, and I had problems. She was required to divorce me and select a new husband from a list of approved men.

I am not ashamed to admit I cried. The terms of divorce meant I would never see my wife or child again. There were always problems when the enforced divorce was invoked. Men were jealous and sometimes they murdered their ex-wives and partners.

Dani had to select someone, and she chose Aron. He was a large well-built man with blue eyes and blond hair. She said she chose him because he was kind and sympathetic.

A week before I was due to move out she said she had found a clause in the divorce law. The ex-husband could stay as a co-parent for his own and subsequent children. This was allowed as having so many children required a lot of caring.
There was another clause. The new husband could impose any conditions that would make him comfortable with having the ex-spouse around his new wife.

Aron came to our house and went over what he wanted, it almost made me leave. Dani tried to talk him into easing his requirements, but he wouldn't budge. He said he didn't want to feel threatened by another male being in the house with his woman. His woman? She had been mine for the last 10 years. He was at least a foot taller than me. How could he feel threatened by me?

I had gone to the hospital the next day. The FMD had arranged it when I went to the local offices to sign the Co-Parent agreement. I felt very sore after my castration. Dani said that they weren't working properly anyway. I wouldn't be allowed to have sex with her, but at least I would be able to help take care of Chloe.

It was the thought of not seeing Chloe that made me agree to this. There is nothing I wouldn't go through to stay in her life. So now I'm here waiting for them to return. Waiting for the next part of the agreement to be carried out.

I heard the door open and could hear the lively happy chatter as they came into the living room.

"Wow Dani, I think you're right. This could work out. She's a cute as hell."

He called me she, I thought. I didn't like where this was going.

"I'll put Chloe to bed and let you two get to know each other." Dani said.

"Well now Sally, let’s have a proper look at you."

Sally was the name I agreed to go by as co-parent.

He walked around me as I trembled. I knew what must happen next.

"Lift your skirt, I want to make sure you're not cheating."

I wanted to punch him in the face and run, but I knew it would be the last time I would see Chloe and Dani. I bit my lip and swallowed my pride and lifted the hem of my skirt.

"Oh very nice. Black lace knickers. Dani told me that you're nutless now. You really are serious aren't you?"

"I would do anything for my family. "

"We'll see about that. You know what comes next. Bend over the table."

This was the part I was dreading. Dani said he needed to exert his masculinity over me. Let me know who was boss.
I bent over the dining room table and stared at the wall.

"Let's get started." he said.

I heard his zip opening, as he walked to the either side of the table. His nine-inch erection bob above the table top. He dragged me across the table until my mouth touched his cock."

"Get busy Sally, that's if you want to be a part of this family."

I hated that I had to do this, but I knew it was the only way I'd be allowed to stay. That's why I signed the agreement.

I opened my mouth and sucked my first cock. I had no idea what I was doing, but I knew I had no choice. He groaned, so I must have been doing something right. Then he pulled out and walked behind me. I felt him lift my skirt.

"You're wearing a petticoat too. How lovely. Dani did a good job with you."

I felt the petticoat lift and join my skirt over my back. The feeling of the cool air above my stocking tops was alien to me. Then his hands cupped my buttocks through my knickers. He rubbed them gently, which I admit felt nice. Then he started spanking me until I whimpered.

"You have a very nice arse. I'm going to enjoy this."

He pulled the back of my knickers down and kicked my feet apart. My heels clicked and scuffed on the wooded floor as my weight dropped onto the table. I felt the head of his cock press against my hole. This was the moment I dreaded. I had prepared myself, as Dani suggested.

Slowly, but painfully he eased his whole length into me. My eyes were wide in disbelief that I was allowing this to happen. He lent forward and pinned my arms to the table. I couldn't move if I wanted to, he was so much bigger than me.

He slowly pulled out, then rammed back in hard. I squealed.

"There's the cute lady. I knew you had a girly voice in you somewhere."

He started to fuck me hard. The pain slowly dulled and god help me, it's started to feel good. I could feel my small cock start to stiffen. The silk knickers felt wonderful against my semi erect member. His pace increased and the table started to skid along the floor. Then he grunted and I felt his cock pulse and explode inside me. I was panting as he pulled out.

I noticed Dani standing at the door. She had watched the whole thing. She knew I would go through with it. She knew this family meant more to me than anything.

Aron smiled at her.

"I think this arrangement is going to work out fine. She's going to be a good substitute when you're too far gone for sex. OK, I'm going back to my place to get the rest of my stuff. See you girls later."

I stood and straighten myself out. She could see I had tears in my eyes.

"It's ok baby, you can stay with us now. We'll still be a family."

"Where are my clothes, I want to change now please."

"Didn't you read the contract, you're wearing them. You have to stay like that. You have fresh clothes in the spare room, but they are all women's clothes."

"I thought it was going to be just this once, so he could show me who was in charge. Where are my clothes?"

"Aron is taking them to the clothes bank. He'll only let you stay here as a woman. Come on it won't be so bad. You can help me raise a family. Aron is very virile, he wants me pregnant all the time."

"What will happen when you can't have sex?"

"Aron will come to you, but it won't be that often. You might even grow to like it. Together we will be the best mothers and wives any family could wish for."

I collapsed into an armchair and contemplated my future.

No one knew how it started. It just did. The nanites were probably designed to fight cancer or restart dying cells. They certainly did that. The upshot was that most of the world seemed to be infected by a real-life zombie plague.

The UK government thought that they could contain it with masks and lockdowns. It didn't work. Eventually, you have to leave home for one reason or another and a simple thing like a scratch from an infected person would mean a living death.

Like the covid virus, you could pass on the infection while appearing to be healthy. You apparently felt good while the nanites did their work rewriting your DNA.

Within 48 hours you died. Your heart and breathing just stopped. Then the final stage of the nanite's work took hold and you revived with just your "lizard brain" functioning. You died then awoke seconds later. The lizard brain was hungry. It wanted to eat. It wanted to eat living things.

The problem with fighting zombies is the only way to stop them is by destroying the brain. These nanite zombies were no different. The nanites keep every cell fed with energy, but they still need a brain to direct the body.

The cities fell quickly. The army and the police were using shells and guns to stop the hordes of zombies. The problem was any normal humans stop when they are shot. These zombies keep moving with only one arm left to drag themselves along.

Many battles ended with the soldiers screaming after the first intense salvos were fired. It did not help that the majority of the UK has no access to firearms. Anyone engaging in a fight with a zombie would invariably get scratched. Human nature meant they would not tell anyone. They felt fine, and they knew if they told anyone the only cure would be a bullet through the brain.

This is how the UK would eventually fall.

My name is Andy. I live in a town called Hertford, 20 miles north of London. Two months ago the army evacuated the town. I refused to go. I begged my mother to stay with me. I could keep her safe. She wished me luck and left with my older sister. She always did believe that the government knew best.

Above my bed was the loft hatch. Since the plague started I had cleared out the loft and been stocking it with dried food, canned food, and water. The header tank was in the loft and I had connected a tap to the bathroom. I could keep it filled until the water pressure died.

We had a 50-gallon tank. A human needs about half a gallon a day. I knew when the water pressure went we would have around a month's supply left, plus the other bottles and sealed containers I had stored in the loft. Now that I was going to be alone I had over 3 months' supply. I thanked god I had also stacked the loft with several boxes of books.

I promised my mother and sister I would stay put in the loft for at least 2 months. The government said that everyone would be kept in the camp for 4 to 6 weeks while they would sweep the country, city by city, town by town, killing anyone they saw. They hoped to keep the healthy safe, while they sterilized the country.

The first few weeks were not too bad. I had a wind-up-powered radio that had a torch built in. I knew the batteries in my torch would not last forever, so I made good use of the tools I had taken with me. I cut a hole in the roof lining and carefully removed the tiles.

It was good to breathe the fresh air. My toilet consisted of a bucket that I emptied down the overhang in the far corner of the loft. Some of the waste hit the wall on the way down, its smell filled the air even when the hole was covered.

What I saw through the hole filled me with despair. Shuffling figures filled the street. They just wandered up and down bumping into each other. I heard a fox bark as it attacked a black plastic bin bag. It must have walked passed most of the figures without them noticing, but at the sound of the bark they jerked towards the sound and moved quickly to find its source. The poor animal was surrounded and torn apart.

I noticed that the noise had attracted others. These walking corpses must be attracted to sound. That made sense. The pictures I saw on TV before everything went to shit all showed dead milky eyes. They must have poor vision, but their ears seemed to work well enough.

As I ducked back in, I dislodged a tile. I heard it shatter on the path and prayed they would not realize where the sound had come from. I taped a sheet of clear plastic over the hole. This would give me light and allow me to charge my solar battery pack.

I heard a crash reverberate throughout the house. They must have come through the window. This did not worry me as they were basically mindless reactive creatures, they would never know how to use a ladder to climb up to the loft, even if there was one to use.

The problem now was they had cut me off from the rest of my house. Even after 2 months, I could still hear them moving about in the rooms below. They must have been trapped after falling through the window. I had to figure another way out.

I enlarged the hole and climbed out onto the roof. With infinite care, I moved across to the next house in the terrace of four. I removed the tiles and cut a hole big enough for me to fit through, then went back for my extending ladder.

The other loft had the usual junk, boxes, and old suitcases. I lifted the hatch and listened for a few minutes before climbing down into the Johnson's bedroom. The first thing I did was bolt the door. I checked the window to see if I had attracted any attention. There were only 4 or 5 of the dead shuffling about. I was safe.

I don't know if was the excitement of what I had just done or the need for relief. I did something that I had tried my hardest to stop doing. I opened all the drawers and the wardrobes. I said in my head that I was looking for something useful, but I knew my real motive was Mrs Johnson's clothes. Mrs. Johnson was considered a "MILF". This was wrong, as the Johnsons had no children. She always looked sexy and sophisticated though.

It still felt wrong, but as far as I knew, I was the only one left alive in the town. So, fuck it. I pulled a selection from her underwear drawer onto the bed. There was a beautiful black basque. I had always wanted to wear one. I had only dressed in my mother's and sister's clothes in the past. Neither are what you would call girly girls.

That thought nearly stopped me in my tracks. A wave of guilt hit me, but then I thought they were probably safe and well-guarded in a camp somewhere.

I hooked the basque around my slim chest. I added some simple black briefs. These were black silk with a tiny lace frill around the legs. I shivered as they made contact with my semi-hard member. I had never worn silk before. I found several pairs of old-fashioned black nylon stockings. I threaded the suspender straps through the knickers and rolled them up each leg. I put the other pairs in the bra cups.

I found a simple long-sleeved, blue house dress. Once that was on, I felt a calm come over me. It had been so long. I had wanted to be a girl for as long as could remember. I had never told anyone as I was ashamed of myself. After my father died I was the "man" of the house. I couldn't let my family down.

I had no right to feel this calm, this right while the country was dying. I looked in the mirror and saw the stubble on my chin. With a good shave, and little of Mrs Johnson's makeup on, I would look quite passable. Not now though. I felt so relaxed I lay on the comfortable bed and drifted off to sleep thinking of what treasures I could take back to my loft from here and the other two houses.

It had taken the end of the world to allow me to be who I really am, Andrea. If I was going to meet my end soon it would be as a woman. Sod the world. Now I would finally be me. There was no one left to judge me. Or so I thought.....

I had finally done it. I was on my own in my own flat. My marriage had failed and I had split amicably with my wife. She kept the house that had been paid for mostly by a trust fund set up by my parents. I kept the remainder of my savings. I did not begrudge her the house. She had been patient and understanding about my "condition". Both my parents were dead, which is why I was contemplating doing something I had been longing for all my life.

As far back as I could remember I had wanted to be a woman. I always felt more comfortable around females. I learned quickly though that it was not acceptable to behave in that manner when you were male. It seemed to me that being male was part of an exclusive club that you should be happy to be a member of and never want to join the other 51% of the population.

I learned to be a "chameleon". I joined in the crude conversations with the guys about "she's got nice tits". I seemed like a normal guy. Whatever that is. What none of them knew, including my parents, was that I would wear my mother's clothes whenever I could. It started out with shoes, then included underwear and dresses. How I never got caught. I'll never know.

I devoured any television or film where men were forced to dress, or disguised themselves as women. I would dream it was happening to me.
I knew that I was not "normal" and had seen the hate directed at people like me. Although I honestly didn't know what I actually was. I was certainly a crossdresser, but was I trans? The clothes excited me a little, but also it felt right. On the rare occasions when I got the makeup right, I just stared at myself in the mirror. I could tell by my smile that the woman in the mirror was happy. A lot happier than the man who had been shaving in it earlier.

I was never brave enough to share my secret. In fact, I was ashamed of myself. I stopped dressing, met a woman, and settled down to being the best husband I could be. Within the first five years, we both knew it wasn't going to work. She asked me if I found her attractive and wore the beautiful lingerie I brought for her. I just had trouble performing. I had to imagine I was her before I could make love.

After a few years of trying to get pregnant, our relationship was falling apart. I wasn't trying hard enough, I didn't love her, and she even accused me of being gay. Perhaps she was right. I had to come clean. I told her everything. Surprisingly she seemed relieved. I think she saw it as my fault, not hers. I was the one that was broken.

The divorce gave her a chance to try again with a "real man". It gave me a chance to find out who I really was. I got a small flat and quit my job. I had around £350k left from the insurance money left to me by my parents. I planned to take a few years off without complications.

I had been in contact with some trans women through several internet sites. The world they live in is very different from what you see in the media. The media shows them as uncompromising zealots that insist on the right to be recognized as women by everyone regardless of any counterarguments. While I did talk to some of those, most were nice normal people that just wanted to be left alone to live their lives quietly in their chosen gender. A lot of the ones I messaged had a great sense of humor. I supposed you would have to, to put up with the crap they have to put up with.

I learned so much. Even though I knew there were many others like me I never dreamed of how diverse it was. I thought there were men that wanted to be women and men that liked to dress as women for sexual pleasure. That is what the media would have you believe, well that and there were men that claimed to be trans so they could access "women only" areas.

There were trans women that wanted to alter their bodies to resemble a genetic female as much as possible. There were those that dressed and lived as women successfully without hormones or surgery. There were many in between both of those. In a way, crossdressers were the lucky ones. They could keep their desire to wear female clothing a secret mostly. Where I was on this broad spectrum was hard to know. I loved appearing to be female. Every time I dressed though, a little voice in my head would tell me that this is the real you. I always felt happier then.

I think I may have been trans, but lacked the courage to live as a woman full-time. The stories I heard from the trans women I spoke to confirmed this could be a very difficult life. From people staring at you to people deliberately misgendering you. Wearing a dress and makeup and having a shop assistant loudly say, " Can I help you sir?", must be devastating. What pleasure could anyone take from that? But this was the reality for many trans women. That was just the tip of the iceberg of the problems that trans people experience daily. It came as no great surprise when I found out that the suicide rate among trans people was many times that of the general population.

Every time new laws were passed to make it slightly easier for trans people, the media would scream that it meant any sexual predator could wake up and decide he was a woman and go and use a female bathroom or changing room at the gym. It totally trivialized the struggle that real trans women go through every day. The more I found, out the more it made me want to crawl away and just hide the woman in me in my little flat permanently.

That would have been the easy way, but the feeling I was missing something just would not leave me. I knew if I didn't try I would live to regret it. I had to make a stand. I had to try.

This is a story set around now. Some trans women seem to have developed an "ability" . I plan to write several short stories set in distopian or utopian settings. It depends on your point of view. Hence the Disutopia title.

"Mr. President, did you see the footage I sent you?"

"I did Miranda, but I still don't know what I was looking at. It looked like some David Blaine magic show."

"Did you not read my report, sir?"

"Miranda, I'm a busy man. That report was over 50 pages long. I don't have time for that. Just explain."

"Yes sir. Can I take control of the computer and connect to the room's main display?"

The president nodded and the generals stood looking bored and agitated while Miranda fiddled about at the keyboard. The meeting was called to discuss a threat to national security and this woman was showing fake Youtube videos.

The first video was displayed on the meeting rooms screen. It showed a woman in a bar holding up a cocktail smiling.

"This is the first footage of the occurrence. Look over her left shoulder at the women at the bar. If I turn the volume up fully you can hear what was said. The woman filmed what happened after she heard the commotion."

All eyes went to the screen, they strained to hear the muffled words.

It sounded like.

"Hey you"

The woman in the background turned to a man and said.

"What me?" Her voice was a little too low for a woman.

"Yeah you, you fucking tranny. We don't want you fags in here. This is a family-friendly bar. Get out while you can still walk."

The camera now zoomed in on the large man in a check shirt as he loomed menacingly over the woman.

"Please I'm not hurting anyone. I'll finish my drink and go."

"You go now, you fucking fag" The man snarled.

He grabbed the woman by the shoulders and then it happened. The woman yelled in a masculine voice.

"NOOO!"

The man flew backward, knocking his companions over, and hit the wall. The odd thing was his feet were 2 feet off the ground. He was suspended there looking shocked.

"So what? Just a strong tranny. Just proves trans women should never be allowed in women's sports." Said, General Marsh.

Miranda looked at her in astonishment.

"Did you not pay attention? The woman never touched him. His was suspended in the air pinned to the wall."

The footage continued. The woman sobbed as she ran from the bar, The chairs and tables seemed to part like the red sea as she rushed to the door.

"Before we discuss this watch the next video. "

The screen changed to a woman's bathroom. General David Ross looked over to his friend General Howard Peters and winked.

The video showed a girl taking pictures of herself in the mirror. She was making kissy faces and playing with her hair. This went on for 20 seconds then the camera swung around towards an argument. Two women were screaming abuse at a third.

"How dare you use a woman's bathroom. Go next door and use the men's you freak."

"Please. How can I? I'm no threat to you. I just want to wash up and leave."

"No! I'm sick of you trans women coming into our spaces. You're a fucking man. You were born with a cock. Man the fuck up or just admit you're a queer. You are not a woman and never will be no matter what they chop off."

This was said by the second woman. She was very tall and overweight. She dwarfed the petite trans woman. The trans woman started to wash her hands and the fat woman dragged her from the sink and slapped her hard around her face.

The trans woman fell to the floor stunned. The woman filming the incident shouted.

"Hey, bitch leave her alone."

"Leave him alone don't you mean you nosey whore. Stay the fuck out of it tranny lover. Or you'll get some of what he's had."

She looked down at her victim and stamped on her crotch. The trans woman let out a high-pitched scream while the perpetrator laughed.

"I'm gonna save you some money honey. I'm gonna crush your little balls."

She raised he foot ready to stamp down then flew across the bathroom. The camera followed her progress. She was 5 feet off the ground and crashed through the door of an empty stall.

The footage ended with the woman filming helping the hurt trans woman to her feet.

The room fell silent as the President spoke.

"So what are we dealing with Miranda?"

"Mr. President. I have several others videos, just like this. All of these were trans women pre-hormone treatment. All display telekinetic abilities."

"My God, If this is real we could utilize this to our advantage. The offensive potential is amazing," said General Peter's

"That is probably not an option sir. We brought in two of the trans women and they could not reproduce the effect to order. It only happens when they a threatened. I took a brain scan and had an agent go into the lab and start screaming anti-trans abuse at one of the women. He should be out of the hospital next week."

The President looked thoughtful.

"Why and how is this happening Miranda?"

"It seems to be evolution, sir. Trans women have developed it as a method of survival. Did you know trans people are four times more likely to be murdered than the average person? Almost 50% try to commit suicide. They are and endangered species sir."

"That's the why. What about the how."

"Trans women especially are usually, but not always of high intelligence and creativity. We speculated that this may be how their brain connects. You know the old chesnut about men being left-brained and women being right-brained? Well some trans people have amazing connectivity with left and right. The one we had in the lab when she hurt my agent had sensors on when it happened. Her brain lit up. For a few seconds it looked like she had access to nearly all of her brain's ability. These incidents are becoming more common by the day sir."

"My God. We can't have this getting out. How can we stop them."

"A bullet in the brains should do it." said General Marsh as she cocked her thumb like a hammer of a pistol.

Miranda shook her head in disgust.

"No need for that sir. We gave our subject hormones. She was so grateful she had been denied treatment by her doctor. After a week, she could not manifest the ability. Hormones are the answer. I suggest hormone treatment is given to everyone that asks. I know trans issues area political football right now, but if we don't act people could die. If this gets out what other secrets will we have to admit to?"

The President looked grave.

"Ok. I'll see what I can do. The Republicans are going to hate this. They are trying to end gender-affirming care for children."

"I would suggest you made all anti-trans speech a major hate crime too. We need to prosecute to stop this from happening. If not we may have an army of pissed trans people coming after the TERF's, Republicans and rednecks. We may have to worry about a few other endangered people then"

“Terry get up. Terry get up!! You’ll be late for school.”

“Ok dad. Where are my clean panties?”

“There should be some in the drawer, if not can’t you wear boxers for a change?”

“I could, but I prefer panties.”

“Actually, Susan has an unopened pack in her drawer. I know they are girl’s panties but they are spandex, they should be comfortable. She only seems to wear boxers now.”

“If I wear a skirt today, will I have to wear tights?”

“Yes, the uniform code says, tights until spring. You can get away with socks in two weeks.”

“Well trousers today then. I’ll be down in a sec. Can I have toast.”

Simon popped two slices in the toaster and poured a glass of orange juice. They had to be quick. He was due to be at his job as a reception worker for the local council at 9 A.M.

He checked himself in the mirror. The round neck, blue, long sleeve dress looked quite smart. He wore black stockings and flat shoes. He found tights a little too hot because of the heating in reception was always turned up too high. That was the female employees fault, he always thought. He had tried the alternate uniform, but didn’t like the blazer and tie. He always felt like the tie was choking him.
.
He couldn’t understand how his wife could wear clothes like that all day, but then again she hated skirts and tights with a passion. He couldn't remember last time he saw her legs outside the bedroom.

Terry came down in his school uniform and sat at the table eating his breakfast.

“Are you going to watch Susan’s game tonight or are you coming straight home?”

“She’s one of the only two girls left on the team dad. She’s done so well. Not many girls are still in football teams at fourteen.”

“I wish I could be there myself. I do worry about her. Some of those boys can tackle pretty hard at fourteen.”

“Dad, she’s so fast. They’d have to catch her first.”

“Still, I’d be happier if she was on the netball team.”

“That’s mostly boys now too.”

“I know, but it’s not so physical. She won’t end up with a broken nose.”

When they arrived at school Terry walked in chatting to his friends Donna and Peter. Donna was dressed in trousers, shirt and blazer like Terry. Peter was in blouse, skirt and tights.

“Not seen you in a skirt for ages Peter.” Said Donna.

“I ripped my trousers climbing a tree yesterday. My other pair are too small. So, it will this until mum gets me a new pair.”

Debbie, Peters mother was wearing a sharp looking business suit. A pencil skirt with a well cut jacket.

“I’ll try to pick you up a new pair lunch time Peter. Quick in you go before the bell goes.”

She turned and walked away quickly. Her heels clicked on the tarmac as she walked to her car.

“Hey Simon. How the hell does she drive in four-inch heels? I have a two-inch pair, I can’t even do it in those.”

Rob was Simon’s age, thirty-five. He was wearing a strange combination of a checked lumberjack’s shirt, which showed his large muscled arms, and a short, leather skirt. His legs were hairless as usual. He went in for body building competitions at weekends.

“I know Rob, same with me. When I wear them, I have to keep a pair of flats in the car. Must be something to do with an XX chromosome. Anyway, why are you dropping Donna off. Tina normal does it.”

“I still have some time off from the construction company. Tina’s used her holiday up. I’m staying with Jackie the rest of the week.”

Simon wanted to kick himself. Jackie, Rod and Tin’s daughter had been in a work-related accident. He should have asked.

“Sorry Rob how is she, what actually happened?”

“She should be fine. It’s nothing major, just a broken leg. It was her own fault really. She was out with the crew last week in that storm. There was a power line loose at the top of a pole. The guys she worked with told her it was too dangerous, but you know what girls can be like in jobs like that.”

“Yes, always think they have something to prove. My Susan’s going to be like that I’m sure of it. That’s what being equal is all about though right? Showing we can be just as good as each other, not asking for specal treatment.”

“Yeah, but I still worry. I can’t help it. Her crew love her. She’s always first up a pole or digging a hole. I have had nonstop phone calls from them since the accident.”

Tina, Rob’s wife worked on the checkouts at the supermarket that Simon’s wife managed.

“If you want mate, I can ask Maggie to give Tina some time off.”

“No, Jackie will be fine in a few days. She'll be used to the cast by then. Thanks anyway. Who’d be a father of girls eh?”

“Yeah tell me about. “

NOTE
In this world there are dress codes, trditional male or female variations, but you can choose whatever one you want and no one cares.
Anything that isn't part of a dress code, like underwear is up to you. The father wearing a mix wasn't working so his choice.
The best thing is no one cares.

No one knew precisely where it started, but it was generally acknowledged it was in a women’s bathroom at a shopping mall.

“Get the hell out of here you pervert.”

“I’m a woman! You can’t throw me out of here, you horrible old TERF!”

“No you’re not a woman. You may try and dress…..”

“Sorry what was I saying. Of course you should be in here. I’m so sorry can you forgive me?”

“Yes of course. I realize how you saw me as a possible threat to you. I promise you I‘m only here to pee. I’m sorry if I made you nervous.”

“No it was me being silly. What a stupid thing to argue about.”

Elsewhere.

“Of course I’ll give you a job in my store. I realize you must find it difficult to get a job. I used to always judge people on the color of their skin. I can see now were all just the same.”

A man see’s a beggar on the corner of the street.

“Here young man. Have $100. I’m sorry that’s all I can afford, try to get some help.”

“Thank you sir, you are very kind. I will see social services today. I don’t understand why I don’t trust them.”

One multi billionaire talks to another

“I have just realized, when I die I’ll be even richer than I am now. What’s the point? I could probably help feed all the starving in the world. My money is just sitting there getting larger, I’ll never spend it.

“Yes, I was thinking the same. All the illness that can be cured. I’ll pay for treatment for the poor all over the world, the lives I could save”

Israel and Palestine.

“Why do we keep firing rockets at you? You just retaliate and kill civilians. If we stop, will you?”

“Yes. We won’t grab anymore land. It just results in deaths. We must talk about helping you rebuild the damage along the border. I don’t know why we did all that horrible stuff.”

All over the world wars stopped and people started caring about each other. Within a year the world was a paradise.

“Mum! Did you say Jenny could play on my game?”

“No why?”

“Well I think she has. She’s played with my game settings.”

Jenny came into the room.

“Yes I did it, you horrible boy. You had the empathy and understanding setting on nearly zero. It was horrible. They were killing each other it was a nasty world. What did you call it? Earth? Well I fixed it. Your sim world works like the real world now.”

“It took me ages to get that world working properly. I was up to the 21st century. I had never got that far before, they always destroyed themselves before.”

“It’s not meant to be played like that. Sim World is meant to be like real life. Not some nasty boy’s nightmare. “

“The way you play it is easy. With the empathy and understanding turned down they are always fighting. The skill is trying to keep them alive as long as you can. It’s really cool seeing how they hate each other for silly differences. “

“Well I think you’re sick brother.”

“Just stay out of my room. I’m going to have to start again. What am I going to use this time? Asteroid? Solar flare? I know a plague, yes a nice virus should do it.

Dan waited outside his boss’s office bedside the door. He could smell the sweet perfume coming from Cindy, his boss’s secretary. He looked at her as she faced away from him photocopying. She was slim but had a nicely rounded bottom. She wore a narrow black skirt and black stockings. He wasn’t sure. He knew she did sometimes, as he had seen the bulges of the clips outlined in her skirt before. She had a silky white short sleeved blouse on and 3-inch heels.

She looked like a textbook secretary. Oh, how he wished he could have been her. He had struggled with his gender identity all his life. His father had caught him wearing a towel around his waist and one over his head pretending to be a girl and spanked him until he screamed.
His mother soothed him and patiently explained he was a boy, and he would never be a girl. He hid his pain and cried himself to sleep that night. He used to pray every night that he would wake up the next morning as a girl.

Being an only child, he was often left alone at home in his teens. He used his time to explore his mother drawers and wardrobe. He always hated the clock. He would be obsessed with checking the time so he would not be caught. While he was dressed in his mother clothes he would dream of another life. A life full of colour and feelings, a life where he could express himself, tell people how he felt. His heart used to sink when he had to go back to being a dull teenage boy.

Cindy turned her head, and Dan hastily looked away. Soon after he was sitting in his bosses office.

“Right Dan, not got much time, so I’ll be brief. I want you to look after a new member of staff. She will start tomorrow morning and I want you to make sure she doesn’t have any problems.”

OK, but why not let the other girls in the sales office take care of her? Why the special treatment?”

“Well Mandy is a trans woman. I know, before you say anything, I don’t agree with all that gender change crap. Bunch of weirdos if you ask me.”

Dan knew all about “that gender change crap”. He had realised he was not the only one who felt the way he did when he first went on the internet in the late 90’s. He knew he should be one of the “weirdos”. He had kept quiet and now had a wife and teenage kids.

“Look Dan, we can’t afford her to get upset by anyone. We have hired her to tick some boxes. We have been hiring a more ethnic workforce, as you will have noticed.”

Dan had noticed. When he had started, everyone of the thirty three employees was white. He did think that was odd. Recently he had noticed the workforce had thankfully been more diverse.

“Now with this.. creature working here, we tick the LGBT box. It will look good for when we float the company. The only thing is, I have seen what those Stonewall fanatics do when any trans people are criticized. We can’t afford the bad publicity. So you make sure that she has nothing to complain about, got it?”

“Yes Mike. I’ll look after her. There won’t be any problems.”

“Look I know a man like you may be sickened by having to be nice to a person like that, but if it all goes well I’ll look after you at your next salary review.”

Dan went to work looking forward to meeting this woman who had done what he never could. She was true to how she felt inside. It would be fascinating getting to know her.

When he finally met Mandy, he was impressed. She was a confident woman in her mid-thirties. She dressed stylishly and he only noticed a slight masculine hint in her face. If he didn’t know he would not have noticed. He felt a slight twinge of jealousy.

He introduced her to the rest of the staff in the sales office and she interacted with smiles and jokes. She was obviously comfortable in her skin. He couldn’t help feeling drawn to her. After a busy morning showing her how the computer system worked he asked her if she wanted to go out and get lunch.

They sat in the café just chatting about the company. Dan was aching to ask her about herself. Mandy seemed to sense this.

“Before you burst Dan, I won’t be too upset if you ask me about myself.”

“Is it that obvious? You honesty fascinate me . You are so feminine. I never would have known if I weren’t told. When do you transition?”

“First, thank you. It is always nice to hear that. I seem confident, but sometimes I’m a mess inside. I have doubts and fears like everyone else. I transitioned five years ago. I have been on hormones for ten.”

“I know you are probably used to people saying you are brave, but it couldn’t have been easy coming out like that to your family.”

“Well that part was easy. I grew up in care so I never needed to ask anyone‘s permission. With me it was just a case of being able to afford it. I had my surgery in Thailand.”

They had a frank and in-depth conversation about surgery and recovery. On the way back Mandy asked Dan a question.

“Dan, you seem to know an awful lot about the different surgical techniques. Can I ask you? Have you considered it yourself? You haven’t asked the usual questions about my sex life that many people ask.”

Dan panicked. Was he this easy to read? He didn’t know what to say. He had carried this secret his whole life. It would be so nice to talk to someone to share how he felt. He barely knew Mandy, but he was aching to tell her. He instinctively knew she would understand.

“Well it’s just.. I er.”

His phone rang and saved him the need to explain.

He couldn’t get to sleep that night he kept going over what he would have said to Mandy. Should he tell her? Or should he just muddle along with his life as it was. He was afraid, it was like he was about to unlock Pandora’s box.

I was asked to write this by someone on another site. This is not my normal stuff. It is a about a TV mistress with a couple of servant/slaves
One of them is obsessed with her feet. I did it to see if i could. It contains forced bi sex.

As I drove home, I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. The Mercedes has very soft seats but the beating I had got from my client tonight was more severe than I intended.

“Bloody screwed up aristocracy.”

I shouted to no one. It was screwed up. I’m a high-class TV call girl, it’s normally me giving out the beatings. His lordship couldn’t risk being seen having sex with a man. Oh no, but that’s what he wanted.

He thought he was so clever choosing me. It was bizarre. I had to strip out of my stockings, corset and boots, then put on a man’s suit. Then he bent me over the table and insisted on spanking me first. Only the bastard used his belt. I’m sure I will be sore for days.

Still £5000 is not to be sneezed at.

“Call home.”

I said to the infotainment system. After a few rings there was an answer.

“Susan Rathbones’ residence. How may I help you?”

“For a start maid, you can raise the pitch of your voice. You sound like a man.”

“I’m… I’m sorry mistress.”

“No, you’re not, not yet. But when I get home you bloody well will be! I’m pissed off. You can warn footstool if you want. I’m angry and you two are going to suffer.”

Maid and footstool are my two unpaid servants. I say servants, because they are free to leave at any time. I don’t own them. They are both middle aged unemployed men. They stay in two sparse spare rooms at my six bedroom house in Barnet. They pay me rent and clean and cook for me.

Maid is 45. He wanted to serve a TV mistress. Footstool is 42 he loves my feet. He worship’s them. They both get their needs fulfilled. So do I.

When I pull into the drive, I climb out. My 4-inch heels of my patent leather boots crunch the gravel. The door opens before I have to use my key.

“Welcome home mistress. Your martini is waiting in the lounge.”

“Footstool?”

“Yes madam, kneeling naked by you chair.”

Maid does his best to curtsy. His face is red. He hates the way I make him dress. He is wearing a cheap, sex shop French maid’s outfit. Complete with fishnet stockings and 3-inch court shoes. He has even remembered his little cap. There is no makeup or wig. He looks ridiculous.

He starts to move towards the kitchen.

“Wait! Lift your skirt maid.”

“Please mistress.”

I pull a riding crop from the umbrella stand.

“Now!”

His trembling hands lift the lacy hem.

“Fucking boxers! You know what you must wear. Right for a start no day off Saturday. Go and get your knickers now!”

Maid stumbles up the stairs. Soon he is back down holding the black knickers covered with ten rows of lace on the back and the front.

“Whose knickers are these?”

“The maid’s mistress.”

“Who is the maid?”

“I am mistress.“

“Well bloody well put them on!”

He reached under his skirt and slipped out of his boxer shorts. I heard the lock rattle against his cock cage as he put one leg after the other into the frilly knickers. His face was bright red he was so humiliated, as he drew them up his legs.

“Wait. Stop there. Lift the frontof y our skirt.”

I could see his cock straining against the bars of the cage. He was rock hard. It must be hurting him. He was really getting off on this. He craved humiliation. He said he hated it, but his body seemed to loved it.

“Into the kitchen and bend over the table.”

He shuffled off with his knickers at half mast around his knees. He knew what was coming. His bare backside awaited when when I arrived. I swished to riding crop a few times. Then brought it down hard on his quivering buttocks. He screamed.

“Not high enough, you still sound like a man.”

I brought down the crop again and again.

“Please mistress, I’ll be good”

He squealed. His voice was desperate and high pitched.

“You’ll be a good what?”

I stood with the crop above my head ready to strike.

“A good girl mistress.”

I could see a trickle of pre-cum had dribbled from his cage down the inside of his stockings.

“Good girl. Meet me in the lounge in twenty minutes. Bring the lube.”

I saw a flash of fear. He was going to say something but thought better.

In the lounge footstool was kneeling beside my chair. He too was wearing a cage. His one squashed his cock into a tiny silver dome. I stood next to him and could see his eyes fixed on my boots.

“Clean them footstool.”

His head immediately went down, and he started licking the stains off the leather. I let him have his fun for several moment then I sat down. He sat back on his haunches and continued to stare at my boots.

“Open wide.”

I carefully slipped the heel of my right boot into his mouth. He sucked it like a lollypop.

“Now footstool. My feet are all sweaty and need cleaning. Take off my boots.”

He carefully unzipped each boot and slowly slipped them off my feet. His eyes glazed over when he saw my stockinged feet. He stared longingly at my red toes in the dark reinforced toe.

He was dribbling slightly. He really did worship my feet.

“Head up footstool.”

I pushed the sole of my foot into his face. He breathed in deeply. A look of pure joy came over his face.

“I need to put my feet up footstool.”

Immediately he got on his hands and knees. I rested both of my heels on his back. It felt good to rest my legs at the end of a hard but profitable day.

I sipped my martini and looked at the clock. Maid would be in here soon.

“Lay flat.”

He lay flat on his back, face up. My right foot rested on his nose, my left on his caged cock. He gently licked the sole, then I forced my toes in his mouth. He groaned and writhed in pleasure.

“Mistress.”

Maid stood there with a tube of lube.

“Footstool’s turn tonight, I think. Take his cage off.”

I took the small key from my charm bracelet and handed it to maid. He fumbled at footstool’s crouch. Then removed the cage. Footstools' penis free from its confinement sprung up. I took my wet toes from his mouth and wiped them around his face. He mumbled and groaned he was in heaven.

“Maid. Remove my stockings.”

Footstool looked on jealousy as maid slowly slipped them off my legs. He looked longingly at my dark red toenail’s. The same ones he sucked and kissed and painted the day before.

I was thinking of telling maid to fuck footstool. I changed my mind.

“Maid, get between footstools legs and blow him.”

The look on his face was priceless. He hated doing this. He wasn’t gay, but he did really get off on being degraded. He bent down and set about his distasteful task. Footstools eyes were bulging as he saw my naked foot approach his face.

“Clean between my toes footstool I had such a hard day.”

His tongue lapped furiously. He loved my feet, but most of all my naked painted toes.

My left foot stray down to his cock. Maid released it, and it quivered in the air. I stroked my left foot up and down the length of his shaft. He sucked hard on my big toe, then shot a thick stream of cum over maid’s face.

Maid was disgusted by this. His cock was still bulging in his cage. There was a small pool of cum between his legs.

“Don’t look so disappointed maid. It’s your turn tomorrow. If you are a good girl, I’ll let you fuck footstool as he sniffs my shoes.”

Maid hung his head. He didn’t want to do that, but he knew he would love it.

What a fucked-up couple of guys’ these two were. I chuckled as my own cock twitched in my silky knickers. I was probably the most fucked up of us all.

I was growing harder. It was my turn for fun. Now which one should I choose?

London's Met police have the only Police EOD Unit in the country. They had called me in because after an X-ray , they suspected the device to be nuclear. It was a dirty bomb designed to make a large part of the London financial district uninhabitable. My name is Matt Rixon and I’m a captain in the 11th Regiment.

A quick recon with a robot equipped with a Geiger counter confirmed it. It was crude but tricky. We discussed moving the van which was parked in the square next to 30 St Mary Axe. The building is affectionately known as the Gherkin. It has many other names that are not so pleasant too.

I advised a 5 mile evacuation. This went down like a lead balloon. They evacuated just over a mile. London has a population of 9 million. Just to get the local buildings evacuated had taken and hour. Liverpool street station was close, that had to be closed making everything more difficult.

The only thing in our favour was that this part of London was mainly offices and shops. There are few people that actually live here.
The x-ray had shown a timer. I couldn’t wait any longer. I waited until the robot cleared the ramp and walked into the back of the Luton van.

I wore a MK5A EOD Bomb Disposal Suit. Fat chance of that helping if anything went wrong. They might give some protection against small devices, but not a chance against a nuke.

The rest of my unit and the police withdrew as soon as they retrieved the robot. There was an eerie silence. London is never silent. It unnerved me. I have defused countless bombs, from WW2 leftovers to terrorist packages. I had never worked on anything like this though.

I knelt next to the wooden chest containing the bomb. There could be any number of trips. The x-ray had only shown parts of its design due to the metals it contained. I opened my tool kit and looked down at the bomb. That’s when it happened. All I saw was white. Then I felt cold as the blast hit me.

I was dead. Which was odd as I could still think. I could still feel my guilt for having failed. People died because of me. Everything was black. Time seemed to stand still. It was just me and my thoughts.

I had joined the army because that’s what the Rixon’s did. Our family was a proud military one. I had ancestors in the army, navy and my great grandfather was a battle of Britain Hurricane pilot. I joined because I wanted to protect people.

Someone had told me once that a soldier fights for those who can’t. I liked the idea of that. That was one of the reasons I joined bomb disposal, my job let me protect others. I had failed. Perhaps this was my punishment.

I saw a pinprick of light in the distance. It grew larger. Or was I moving towards it? It was a pure blue, white light filling my vision. I had eyes? I felt a warmth fill my soul. I had a soul? Everything was going to be fine. I was going home, I’d be happy. That’s what I felt.

Suddenly I felt a surge of guilt. I didn’t deserve this. I had failed. People died because I failed. I let everyone down. I stopped on the edge of the light. I felt love emanating from within it. I should go in, but I didn’t deserve it. I had failed to protect my country and my friends.
I felt a sense of movement. I spiralled downward. There were flashes of light and I felt my being wrenched through the windows of light that flashed passed me.

I screamed. My legs were held open by two women wearing long Victorian dresses. I tried to ask what was happening. My mouth wouldn’t move.

“Push Elizabeth, push!” said one of the women.

“I can see the head!” said the other.

I was having a baby. It felt like I was being split in two from the inside. I screamed and found myself spiralling down once more.

I lurched into another window of light. I felt myself running. I tried to stop but had no control of my legs. There were others. All covered in animal skins. In my right hand I saw a long rough worked pole. On the tip of the pole was a flint spear head. I recognised this from a flint knapping course I had done a few years ago.

We were nearing a group of five massive elephants. No, they were mammoths. The largest reared up to challenge the leading men. Men? Possibly they looked almost like Neanderthals. The smaller mammoths turned and ran. I saw them disappear over a cliffs edge. I realized that this was the purpose of charge.

A cry went up and the group started to run away. Their hunt was successful. I lurched out and found myself spiralling again.

I was drawn through another window. I tried to talk but it seems I am just a passenger in these lives flashing by. I bent by the edge of a river. I saw my hands dip a rough wood and leather bucket into the river. I saw my face in the ripples. I was a young girl. Possibly 17 or 18. I had blond hair with a daisy chain around my head.

I struggled to lift the bucket and noticed it leaked badly. A thought came into my head.

“I hope there’s enough left for the pot.”

Did I think that, or did she?

I heard a drumming sound and turned to see what looked like a Norman soldier on a horse. I started to run towards my hut. The horse veered in front of me to cut me off. I heard screaming from the small village and saw other mounted soldiers swinging swords at the men.
The soldier dismounted and backhanded me with a mail clad glove. I passed out. When I came to he was forcing my legs apart.
Thankfully I was pulled back into the spiral. I was draw though again and again.

I was aboard a ship under attack. I could feel the lurch as the cannons fired a broadside. The smell of sulphur was overpowering. After my ears stopped ringing, I heard the surgeon.

“Hold him down you fool. How d’ya expect me to get his leg off with him thrashing about.”

I was a loblolly boy. A surgeon’s assistant. This was fascinating. I was aboard what I suspected was a British naval vessel under attack.
It didn’t last, I was soon back in the spiral. The next life I appeared in seemed to be a soldier in the Napoleonic era. The stench of sulphur hit me again as the hammer stuck the pan of the brown Bess musket I was holding. I had no control of my actions as my hands pulled a cartridge from my pouch.

I tore the cartridge open with my teeth. I poured some powder into the pan. Then the powder, bullet and paper went down the muzzle. I pulled the out the ram rod and pushed down. Then I put the rod back into the holder.

I hefted the rifle to my shoulder and fired. My body began to repeat the process again and again. I could see the column of blue coated soldiers coming nearer. They were losing so many men from the front ranks they were faltering. Men were tripping over their fallen comrade’s bodies.

Our line could all fire our weapons. This kind of warfare was about maths. Three rounds a minute into a column of men could kill enough before they reached you. The French column had conquered most of Europa. Then it met Wellingtons well trained men.

Turning my head to see the man next to me earned me a shout from a Sargent.

“Rixon! If you don’t keep firing you’ll find a French bayonet up your arse.”

Rixon. Was I in the body of an ancestor? I was sure that it was me. I had turned my head. I concentrated and managed wipe my forehead with my sleeve. It seems the longer I was in a body the more control I got.

Were all the people who’s lives I flashed into my ancestors? Was this something to do with DNA Is that why my mind perceived it as a spiral?

Before I fired another shot, I was back in the spiral. I felt the tug again. I was holding a tray of clay and leather mugs. They were full of a weak looking beer. I held the tray away from my huge breasts. As I walked, they threatened to spill out of my blouse.

I felt a slap on my backside.

“Giss another drink Sal.”

“You wait yer turn Tom. And don’t touch what you can’t afford you dirty old sod.”

I was glad it wasn’t all horror and fighting. The tavern I worked in appeared to be late medieval. I was only in this body for a few minutes when I switched again.

The next body couldn’t see. Was it blind? Then I felt warm liquid on my face. I coughed and spluttered. It tasted foul. My eyes opened. I had been asleep.

I saw a man pulling up his trews. Trews? Had he pissed on me?

“You dirty fucker. I’ll cut yer pizzle off.” I could hear myself say.

Scrambling to my feet I pulled my bollock dagger out. I intended to kill the pig. A hand grabbed my shoulder.

“Hold yourself John. It was the water from the pottage. He didn’t piss on you. Anyway, looks like we’re going forward to goad the French into attacking. Get yer bow. “

My body turned towards a cart and lifted out a yew bow. The creamy white wood of the back and the darker belly. There was no mistake. This was the weapon that won battles in the 100 years war. It shot the cloth-yard shafts tipped with steel bodkins at England’s enemies.

Is this where I was? The 100 years war. Perhaps even Agincourt?

This first chapter is a setup for the character to take part in historical events from male and female perspectives. He is traveling down his DNA path.

We all have DNA from a huge pool the further back you go. Approximately 20 percent of Neanderthal DNA survives in modern humans; however, a single human has an average of around 2% Neanderthal DNA .

This story is a scene set in Manchester England. A man comes home from work and finds his wife cooking dinner. This story is told from both points of view.

" Hi Michelle luv, I'm back! What's for dinner?"

Tony's back. I only hope he's not feeling too horny. I'm standing at the sink, washing up.

"There's a casserole in the oven. it should be ready in about ten minutes."

I can feel his eyes on me. I better turn the oven down.

Tony

I stand and look at Michelle washing up. She's wearing pink rubber gloves, a blue and white floral dress, black stockings, black heels, and a full apron tied in a big bow at the back, the picture of feminine domesticity. I can't help myself, even after nine months, getting what I always wanted in a woman it's too much. I'm hard. I need her now.

Michelle

As I was expecting, I felt him behind me. His hands grab my arse cheeks. I feel his hard cock grinding into me through my dress and his trousers. He breathes heavily into my ear, then kisses my neck. This is going to happen then. I feel proud that just seeing me can do this to him. This is power A woman's power. But can't he wait? I just cooked bloody dinner.

Tony

I lift the hem of her dress and see the lace-trimmed white petticoat underneath. Such a good girl. She dresses to please me. She dresses like a real woman should, just like my mum used to dress. I lift them both together and tuck them into the belt of her apron.

She is wearing the black silk French knickers I got her last week. I caress her cheeks throught the silk and hear her moan. That must feel so good for her. My need is urgent though. No time for foreplay. I lower her knickers slightly and see she is wearing her plug. Good girl. She will be lubed up and ready. I gently ease it out of her and hear a pop. I throw the plug into the sink. Quickly I move myself into place and slide inside her.

Michelle

He pushes me against the sink. I still have my rubber gloves on. Can't he at least wait until I take those off? I grip the sides of the sink as he starts to lift my dress. I begin to hope he is horny enough to be quick.

Nine months ago when I agreed to move to Manchester with him, the idea of this turned me on like crazy. I was a crossdresser with a yearning to be a woman full-time. I wanted to be a woman and a wife. I saw being a man's wife as the ultimate expression of femininity.

I had been a crossdresser for years. I never had any luck with women and loved the attention I got from men on contact sites. Tony was different. He wanted someone who would commit to living with him as a woman full-time. I was too worried that I would be discovered with him living in the same town as me. When he was offered a transfer from Hitchin to Manchester it was my chance to start a fresh life as a female. I had no close relatives to come looking for me. I was free to choose.

The idea was intoxicating. Living 24/7 as a woman. It was my dream. Should we be allowed to live our dreams though? Tony told me that he would expect me to cook, clean the house, wash clothes, and make the house look nice. He told me that he expected me to dress as a feminine woman every day. Skirts, dresses, stockings and makeup all the time. I shuddered with desire at the thought of this. He made me understand he would put up with no "male" behavior. I would read women's magazines, and romance novels and learn how to knit and sew. I was to close my bank accounts and sell all my property. Not that I had much. I was never successful or happy as a man. I was to be a stay at home housewife, just like his mother.

The idea seemed like heaven to me. Everyone in Manchester I met would only know Michelle. I would be stuck in a life of housework, silky lingerie, perfume, and makeup. I couldn't resist it. I agreed. Nine months in, I was starting to have doubts. It's funny really when I think about it. Growing up I wanted to be my mother. I suspect he wanted to fuck his mother. In a strange way, we both got what we wanted.

I felt the plug being pulled out. I was prepared as he often came home and ravaged me before dinner. His hands caressing me through the silk felt fantastic. This was something I loved about this life. My plug was quickly replaced by something warmer and harder. I can't deny the pleasure I felt as his hardness slowly slipped deeper and deeper inside me.

Tony

I slowly push all the way into her. I always think of her as her. Never him. I keep pushing until I hear her heels scuff the floor as I lift her slightly off her feet. She has to grip the sides of the sink to steady herself. My hands move up to her tits. I carefully cup them as my finger tweaks her nipples through her bra. I am gentle with her breasts as they were still healing. They were a present form me last month. I insisted that she visit the doctor before we moved and start the procedure to get a gender recognition certificate. Her name was officially changed to Michelle just after we moved. She was on hormones now. No, there is no going back. She is going to be mine. My woman, a woman I helped to make. My perfect woman. Not like those other bitches.

I ram hard into her and she yelps..

"Sorry my love. I just want you so badly."

I regret that. It was just the anger of the thought of my two failed marriages coming to the surface.

Michelle

That hurt! Bastard. I try to be everything he ever wanted in woman, and he does that. Still, he shouldn't be too long now. He speeds up and I start breathing hard. I let out little cries.

"Uh, Uh, Uh.Oh yes, Oh God you're so hard, give it to me".

I know he loves this. I hear him grunt. He is close. I will fake an orgasm to make sure he doesn't try to continue. I do enjoy making love with him sometimes. In bed, with my legs over his shoulders is my favorite position. He seems to think I like to be surprised though. He has had me over the kitchen table, the sofa and even hanging out of the upstairs window as I was cleaning them. I catch a glance of myself in the window. My perfect makeup and blond hair bouncing as he fucks me. It causes my shrunken penis to stir in it's silken prison. Months ago, just the thought of doing this would have me so turned on. Now I am almost bored of it. Is it the hormones I'm on? Do they change the way you think?

I applied to change my gender and seen my doctor. It would take at least two years, but everything goes so slowly. Despite what people think, gender problems are a low priority with the NHS. I had got the hormones on the black market off an internet site. Risky, but I was starting to notice my buttocks swell slightly, or was I just getting fat?

Tony

She tells me to give it her. I most certainly will. I feel myself build to my release. She is so much better than my other two wives. All eager to start with, then "Oh, I got a headache." Not Michelle though. She is unique. She understands a mans needs. My perfect woman. Here it comes.

"Ahhhhhhh. Wow, you're so bloody sexy love. Thank you. Are you ok?"

Michelle

He always asks me that. What does he expect me to say? Now perhaps I can finish dinner, then wash up and tidy the kitchen. Then perhaps I can finally sit down and watch TV with him. I better hide those leggings I left in our bedroom. I got them at the supermarket today. He would hate me wearing them. What he doesn't realize is that almost no women go supermarket shopping in a dress, stockings an heels. I pass fairly well nowadays but don't want any extra looks from suspicious women.

"I'm fine. I better go and change my undies though. Can you put the oven back on please?"

I give him a little peck on the cheek and head upstairs to hide those leggings. I see our bed and think that tonight he will want a repeat performance. He loves me in a baby doll, stockings, and high-heeled boots. I have done this so many times that I'm bored with dressing for sex every night. Am I bored with sex? Before the hormones, sex was like an itch that you had to scratch, then you feel relief for a while. Now I need to be in the mood to enjoy it. Am I thinking like a woman now? I wonder if he'll believe me if I tell him I have a headache.

I don’t know if I want this? I’m on my back in his large double bed. I taste my smeared lipstick and smell my Eternity perfume. He loves it which is why I wear it.

He looks down at me with an expression of lust and dominance.

“Baby, you’ve got me so dammed hard. You’re perfect.”

He leans in and kisses me as my stockinged legs part to allow his body to press mine into the mattress. His tongue finds mine, and tickles the roof of my mouth.

He sits back on his knees and puts his large hands under my knees. My legs are lifted vertically and I can see my shiny black thigh high boots pointing towards the ceiling. Mathew loves me wearing these. He calls them my “fuck me” boots. My legs do look amazing in them.

Mathew moves forward again and supports my knees over his shoulders. I’m careful to avoid my six inch heels catching his back. His large hands are busy now. They pop the fasteners on my lace trimmed cami-knickers.

My manhood falls free. I’m only semi stiff. He doesn’t care.

“Mm mm, My kind of woman.”

Both his hands return to my bare thighs above my stocking tops. Then they gradually caress my body through the silk until he reaches my nipples. The feel of the silk rubbing across both nipples draws a gasp from me. I instantly get hard.

Mathew notices.

“Such a girl’s reaction. You love me playing with your tits. We will see about getting you a real pair later.”

He grasps both of my buttocks and lifts them off the bed. In one swift movement he’s inside me. Eight inches pistoning down into me. I groan and cry out, in pain and pleasure as he drives my body into the bed.

Suddenly I feel him start to release inside me, he cries out and I know it’s over, well at least until tomorrow morning when he will want a “quickie” before going to work.

I undress and go and clean up. When I have changed into my red negligee and knickers I return to bed to find him turned to the wall snoring. I’m not upset as I really don’t feel like talking tonight.

I lay awake remembering what led me here.

Mathew was my best friend at school. We met in senior school and had the same taste in music. We used to share CD’s and spend hours with each other in his room, copying the tracks we liked.

One week when we were both eighteen his mother and older sister had gone to visit his grandmother. We used to play fight often as boys do. This time we had a tickle fight that ended with him on top of me. I knew it would happen. He was over six foot, I'm five foot six.

As he sat on my groin and tickled me until I cried, I noticed a look in his eyes. Out of nowhere he lent forward and kissed me. I had always fancied him and returned his kiss passionately.

I had never really thought about sex. I liked girls, but I was also attracted to masculine men. He lifted me up and led me towards his parents double bed. We both stripped and fondled each other.

He went to his mother’s top draw and picked out a black bra and knickers. I couldn’t help myself the idea of wearing his mother’s clothes felt so naughty. We made love for three hours that day.

We carried on like this until I was twenty. I often wore his sister’s and sometimes my mother’s clothes. When I met Sarah at work and fell in love, I realized that what I had with Mathew was just lust.

He took it well, and was even best man at our wedding. When I moved to London we lost touch. I had a new life and new friends. I thought my fling with Mathew was just a blip.

I lived a charmed life for ten years, I was happy. Then one day coming back from a work function Sarah was killed by a hit and run driver. He was caught though CCTV and arrested. His father was a millionaire and one of the policemen had told me he was high on cocaine when he hit my wife. He suspected as his father had friends in high places that he would get off with a large fine.

I considered suicide, but I wanted revenge. This man had destroyed my life. I would destroy his. I hadn’t shaved or washed since she died. So when I went to look for a gun on the streets of Tottenham, I must have looked like a messed up user. The gun cost me three thousand pounds. I didn’t care.

My plan worked. I had dressed in my wife’s clothes and put a wig, sunglasses and makeup in a bag. Then I pulled on a pair of track suit bottoms and a hoodie. I went to the library opposite the court and waited in the upstairs window, waiting for him to arrive.

I shot five times and hit him twice. I quickly removed my large hoodie and trousers. Underneath I had a woman's coat and a dress. I put on the wig and glasses, and was running down the stairs screaming when the police came into the building. They quickly evacuated me with rest of the people in library.

A I left I could hear them demand the man in the empty room surrender.

I wandered away to the train station. I had drawn all my remaining money out of the bank and headed to see Mathew. My plan ended there. I would stay with him for a day, then go on the run. I hadn’t seen him for years. The last time I spoke to him was five years before. His mother had died and his sister had moved to Canada.

Luckily he was still alone. He had seen the news report and was worried about my being with him. He told me I could stay the night, but must leave I the morning.

He went out to get us a takeaway and return with a case of beer. Four hours later we were both drunk and we realized how much we missed each other. He pushed me back into the sofa and tickled me. We had a repeat of what happened over ten years before.

He went into his sister’s room and returned with a pair of knickers she had left behind. The next morning, we both woke up with hangovers. I went downstairs and made breakfast and coffee and took it up to him.

“I could get used to this. Let me run an idea by you Simon.”

He told me if I stayed as a man, I may a get caught and implicate him. If I dressed as a woman, and became Simone, I’d be safe as the police weren’t looking for a woman. His sister had left plenty of clothes and we could order the rest online. I needed to refine my mannerisms and makeup, but he was sure I’d pass.

I agreed. Now I am in all practical sense a suburban housewife. He likes me to dress in feminine clothing, and wear sexy underwear for him. He wants sex at least twice a day.

I get to wear nice clothes. The housework is fairly easy so I have time to read and shop. He takes me out a few times a week for meals. I should be grateful. This was a life many women lived.

It’s just I don’t know if I want this?

This was inspired by I'm Their Girly Goy-Boy , by Andrea Lena which was inspired by my blog on the Who song I'm a boy.

Although Holly Snow did this in 2019

https://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/fiction/87693/im-girl-song-pa...

Which I really love

This is my take on it ,I thought I'd reverse the genders.

One boy called Emanuel
Another little boy was Samuel
Another little boy was just called Earl
The other was me, and I'm a girl

My name is Jill, and I'm a trans case
They practice beating up on my face
Yeah, I feel lucky if I get short shorts to wear
They spend evenings cutting off my long hair

I'm a girl, I'm a girl
But my pa won't admit it
I'm a girl, I'm a girl
But if I say I am, I get it

Put your shirt on, Emanuel
Shave your beard, Samuel
Cut your nails, little Earl
I'll kick your ass, you little girl

I'm a girl, I'm a girl
But my pa won't admit it
I'm a girl, I'm a girl
But if I say I am, I get it

I want to play skipping on the green
Paint my nails with a pretty pink sheen.
Take all ma's hormone pills
I want dress up all covered in frills

I'm a girl, I'm a girl
But my pa won't admit it
I'm a girl, I'm a girl
I'm a girl, I'm a girl
etc

I had just returned from the first inter-dimensional trip in human history. I was dumbstruck. My team asked me what had happened, as I had returned after only two hours.

We knew the place the other side of the portal was earth like, as we had sent automated drones through. We could not control them after they had phased through so they were programmed to take short trips to take readings and return.

I had been given a wristband that kept my body in sync with the dimensions vibrational frequency. Pushing the return button simply turned the device off and I would be snapped back to my reality.

I stepped though the portal into a sparse wood and headed west. The drone footage showed a settlement in that direction. I felt fairly confident. I am six foot tall and well built.

Within ten minutes I was on the edge of town. It looked like a twentieth century English village. The buildings were more rounded and the cars were bigger with less sharp angles. I stayed hidden and observed.

The first people I saw were a family. The woman was at least seven foot tall! She was followed by a smaller man, pushing a pram. He was my height. The most surprising thing was the woman was wearing a very sharp tailored suit, the man was wearing a dress! The woman had short, but well styled hair. The man was slightly balding with a beard.

“Come on keep up”

The giant woman shouted. She seemed to not realise that the man was struggling to get the pram up the high curb.

Why they spoke English I will never know.

I saw a few cars pass by. After a while I noticed only women were driving. I decided to take a risk and walk down the high street. If anything happened, one touch on my wrist band would take me home.

I moved quickly, looking through the windows of a small supermarket. It was full of men shopping, wearing what I would call women’s clothing.

“Quick over here, run!”

I turned to see a man in a dark blue pleated skirt and a white blouse waving at me from across the road.

“In here quick.”

He opened the door to a shop.

Steven James Men’s Fashions

“Are you mad walking around like that, you could be arrested”

“Sorry I’m not from around here, what have I done”

“Wearing trousers, surely it’s illegal everywhere?”

“Are you one those extreme men’s libbers?”

“No I’m just a stranger. I am from another country. Can you explain your laws so I won’t break them in future?”

He held his hand out limp at the wrist. I took the finger tips lightly in my hand”

“I’m Steven”

“My name is Peter.”

“So is this your shop then Steven?”

He laughed as he locked the front door.

“Yeah, right as if a married man can own anything!”

“So whose is it?”

“My wife owns everything of course; married men have no property rights”

“I always wanted a shop, but men can’t get bank loans without a female family member's permission. I hoped I would earn more money this way. Men only get a little more than half of the wages of women. It didn’t work out anyway, my wife keeps all the profits. Do you have a bank account where you come from? Where do you come from?“

I thought there is no harm in telling part of the truth.

“No my wife has all my money, and I come from Britain”.

“I’ve never heard of Bri-tain. Are all men allowed trousers there?”

“No, only with their wife’s permission.”

I lied as I wanted to find out more about how this society worked. The women were still females, albeit, bigger and stronger than the men. The men were still biological males. They just seemed to fill what in my world, in the twentieth century anyway, would be typical female roles.

“So who runs the country then?”

“The prime minister Shelly Mellor.”

“Did you vote for her”

She almost collapsed in fits of laughter.

“Men, Vote? Are you mad? I know there are dangerous men’s liberationists that say we should get the vote, but we are too emotional to be given the vote”

“Don’t tell me you can vote in Bri-ton, or wherever you come from”

“No, I just thought it was different here,Do you live here in town?”

“I live about three miles away.”

“Do you drive or walk?”

“How could I drive? Men aren’t allowed to drive. Can you drive?”

“I can if my wife is sitting next to me”

I lied again, trying to calm him.

“I wish I could drive, I have to walk past the pub at the top of the street. Those horrible drunken women say awful sexual things to me. One slapped my bottom last week, and groped me!. I reported to the police. She said I must have been asking for it.”

“Did you tell your wife?”

“Yes, but she called me a dirty little tease and beat me. While I was crying she dragged me to the bedroom and made me do things”

I could tell he was upset remembering this, but I thought surly this was against the law here. I was angry someone could be treated like this.

“Why the hell didn’t you go to the police and report your wife?”

“What for? Many women say it’s a good thing to beat your husband it keeps him in line.”

“What about raping you then?, they will have to do something about that”

“A wife cannot be convicted of raping her husband, being married means consent. Everyone known's that.”

There was a loud noise from the back of the shop. I saw the shape of a huge woman, almost eight feet tall storming towards us from the back of the shop.

“Oh my god, it’s my wife.”

She glared at me, and looked at Steven.

“What the hell are you doing talking to men’s lib perverts like this? Is that what you are now? Will you be burning your knickers next? Wait until I get you home, I’ll beat this nonsense out of you.”

She looked at me.

“You are coming to the police station now”

At her size , she could accomplish this easily.

“And you, Steven are in big trouble”

I shook my head and looked into Steven’s eyes and saw his fear. He was terrified of her.

"I am so sorry”

I pushed the recall button, and I was back in the lab.

******************************************************************************************************************************

Promising a full report on my short trip would be finished in the morning , I drove home. What a horrible world to live in. A vile place for men to have to live in anyway. Men were second class citizens. I thanked god I Iive in our world where injustice like that doesn't happen.

At home I started my report while researching human rights online to help with the terminology. By the end of the night I was in a state of shock.

Men were not allowed to drive.

Until June 2018, Saudi Arabia was the only country in the world in which women were forbidden from driving.

Men were not allowed to vote.

1828 presidential election was the first in which non-property-holding white males could vote in the vast majority of states. By the end of the 1820s, attitudes and state laws had shifted in favor of universal white male suffrage. August 18, 1920, the 19th amendment granted women the right to vote.

Men could be legally raped by their wife.

Very few legal systems allowed for the prosecution of rape within marriage before the 1970s.

Men could not open a bank account without their wife’s consent.

American woman needed her husband's permission to open a bank account as recently as the 1960s, and it wasn't until 1975 and the Sex Discrimination Act that a British woman could open a bank account in her own name.

Men only get a little more than half of the wages of women.

Despite the 1970 Equal Pay Act, a gender pay gap still exists today. In some professions and at some levels women's wages are equal to men's. But on average women are still paid less than men to do the same jobs. In the 1970s women, on average, were paid about 50% of men's wages in manufacturing and the professions

Married men could not own property.

Married women were not legally entitled to own landed property until the passing of the Married Women's Property Act in 1870 and the Married Women's Property Rights Act in 1882.

I realised that if I was a women living before the twenty first century, I would be living in that horrible world, on my own earth.

In some parts of our planet they still are.

We will not be truly civilized until the whole planet has equal rights.

Melody Davis had grown up like all other girls in the Queendom. She was a little disappointed when they were separated from the boys
in her early teens. She understood that her teachers told her boys brains could not handle much more than an elementary level of education.

She thought that was wrong, as some of the boys in her class were smarter than her. She kept that too herself. She went to uni to study business management and had a few relationships with girls like everyone else. None of these satisfied her though. They just didn't feel "right". They were fun, but she felt no love. It was like scratching an itch.

She used to wonder if she was normal. She always found herself getting very turned on watching the gardener work outside her window. His tanned skin and broad shoulders made her so hot and bothered, she had to go into her bedroom to take care of her urges. She had always been taught that men were the enemy. They were only kept around for menial jobs and sperm donation. The only real love is between two women.

She saw her friend watching the gardener through the window one day. She saw her nipples poking through her blouse and her face flush.

"Oh Mandy, he's turning you on isn't he? What would all the feminists think if they knew you lusted after prick sex?"

"Mel, don't you dare tell anyone. I've been like this since I hit puberty."

"Don't worry I'm the same. We must be a couple of perverts."

"That's just it Mel, we're not. It's everyone else. What we feel is what women feel all over the world. We have all been brainwashed."

It started to make sense to Mel now. She couldn't understand why it was wrong not to hate men. Most of the boys she talked to were nice. As an adult woman you have little to do with men. Men tended to avoid women where they could. She understood they could be accused by a woman for the slightest phrase they uttered that the women didn't like. Women were poison to men.

She had been taught that men kept women as slaves and abused them before the women rose up and defeated the men. Everyone was taught that early on in school. She just accepted it as truth. There was so much missing from herstory. The things they were taught about were all negative. Adolf Hitler, Gengis Khan, wars and death all caused by men. They never learned about the wonderful inventions, like television, antibiotics, electrical power. She asked once and her teacher, she told her women invented them and men stole the credit.

"Mel, I can show you something if you promise not to tell anyone."

"What Mandy, is it anything to do with our messed up society?"

"There are so many women like us. We just dare not tell anyone. Women that want to be with men, have babies in the natural way. If they push the matter they get locked away and declared insane. My mother’s friend lived with a man for two months. Someone reported it and they were arrested. She is in a mental ward and he is in prison now."

"But we have been taught all our lives that men are evil beasts, just little more than apes."

"Outside this country there are several like ours, but there are many large countries where men rule. If all men were dumb beasts, how would they run countries? Some countries are equal, with males and females in government. They work together for the good of their people. Some treat women almost as bad as we treat our men. Men here seem dumb, because we make them dumb."

"How do you know all this? It makes sense, but I've never seen any of this."

"Our herstory has been censored. That's not even the right word did you know that?, it should be history. Our internet is restricted to safe content. All we have access to backs up the feminista agenda. Extreme feminists are very noisy, the rest of us all think there is something wrong with us if we don't agree with them. So we all just go along with it to fit in. The country is run by feminista for feminista. When have you seen an opposition party try to ease up on male curfew laws?"

"Well, never, all the parties seem the same, just with different leaders."

"Exactly, so we will never change. We will stagnate. The natural order of things has been ruined. Our birth rates are falling. Who would want to bring as boy up in this country? Mothers love their children, it's unfair."

Mandy gave Mel and IP address that allowed her to access the web outside the Queendom. Over the next few months she was shocked by what she learned.

Years later she was a manger at a large supermarket. She had a baby boy called Peter. She watched Peter grow in to a bright eyed, intelligent child. He was top of the class in many subjects, much to the annoyance of some of the teachers. When he was ten, one of the teachers told her that he should be considered for feminisation.

Mel did not know how to feel. Peter would have a brighter future as a girl. He should have a bright future as a boy though. It disgusted her that he must have his genitals removed and altered if he wanted to avoid a life of lonely drudgery. This was all because some idiot feminist decided the only bright boy was a girl.

She wanted to discuss it with Peter. It was his body, she thought. She rang clinic that she would have to take him to. The woman she spoke to was just awful. She told her the first thing they would do was to "cut his nuts off". The woman laughed, she seemed to think it was funny. Then she went on about giving her son female hormones.

Mel asked if all the converted boys were happy. The woman said she supposed so, it must be better than being a boy. She said that only about 30% of the boys made the full transition. She told Mel that if they didn't finish in the top 10% of their classes they were considered a waste of time. The woman said the ones that don't pass become Mals. Mel had seen Mals working as cleaners and carers in women's areas. She had also seen them working in schools. Some were still quite masculine, but dressed as women.

The woman from the clinic had told her that the word mal had started as a joke. They were males with a bit missing. She giggled again. Mel told her she didn't think that was funny. The woman got angry and told her if it wasn't for mals, real women would have to do all the dirty jobs around women and children, men could not be trusted. She said once a boy was a mal, he was harmless.

Having the facts laid out like that horrified Mel. She could see how oppressed men were. She never realised, only the oppressed can ever really see it. Although women like her were oppressed. Women that wanted to be with a man, she thought.

She discussed it with Peter later that night. She described it all, she left nothing out.

"I think our dinner ladies are mals mum. Simon is being feminised. He came back to school wearing a girl's uniform. We have to call him Simone now. Most of the boys won't talk to him, and the girls call him ugly. He cries a lot now. He told me his mum made him do it.
“Oh poor Simon.”
“You won't make me do it will you mum?"

"Oh my beautiful boy, I'd never force you. So you don't want to then."

"No mum I like being a boy, even though I know I will have to live in those horrible rookeries one day."

The rookeries were male ghettos where most of the male population lived. Men were allowed to live with their mothers, but some women sent their sons away when they got older.

"I love you so much son. You are welcome to stay with me forever. You will have to hide that clever brain of yours though. Start failing some tests. Don't put your hand up in class."

"Why mum , that's not fair. I am the best in my class at a lot of things. Why do I have to pretend?"

"When they find someone really clever, they can force you to be a girl. If you are as clever as I think you are, It might happen."

Mel used the I.P. address to access an I.Q. test from a free country. She made sure Peter knew how to use the mouse and keyboard. Boys were not encouraged to use anything more than simple computers in the Queendom. They were only given local access to files, they were not even allowed on the censored Queendom internet.

She sat and watched him. He amazed her He had an I.Q. of 145. The average in the Queendom was around 92. It used to be 100, she knew there was some concern about this. She was told by a her friend , who’s lover worked at a genetics lab.

She knew if he was to stay a man, he would have to hide his talent. What a waste, it was so unfair.

She watched as her happy bright child, became a sad morose teenager. At 14 he got a job as a dustman. She could see smothering his intellect and acting stupid was killing him. He had twice the intelligence of his female supervisors, but had to suck up being called a dumb male by many of the females around him.

When he was 15 he told Mel he thought about suicide. She held him tight and knew she had to do something. She gave him free access to her computer. It was forbidden to do this. They could both be put in prison. He would get life in a labour camp probably.

His mood improved daily as he sucked up information on cultures all over the world. Then one day he called his mother to the screen.

"Look Australia, has just declared equality."

"What? they were like us, well not as many police, but they were a feminist country. Why?"

"I have been picking up bits of information for hours. This site is run by an anti feminist group run by women and mals."

The site showed a blurred picture of a tall man talking with, what the picture said was, the Australian prime minister.

"This man is from here mum, he came from the Queendom. He offered Australia the secret of anti-grav if they gave men equal rights."

"But Anston Aerospace invented anti-grav."

"No mum, this Charlie bloke invented it. I think they stole his invention. You know they would never let a man take credit for anything. We're just dumb, abusive apes."

She could see his anger building.

"Is there anything else?"

"Yes he was the one writing messages on the moon! He has built a spaceship. This could be amazing for the human race. I'm just happy our horrible country never got it. Can you imagine. Feministas in space? With that much power you could take over the world. "

"I shall see if we can emigrate. If we are quick they may let us go, but I suspect they will stop anyone leaving UQ for a non-feminist country now."

"Bloody hell, I could get a job where I could use my brain if we moved there."

"Yes and your old mum could get a man. I'm only 45 and would love to meet a nice guy to share my life with."

Peter starred at her. He had seen enough on the internet to know what his mum wanted was normal. It was just he had never heard a woman say that before.

"If only something like that could happen here. This bloody government needs taking down a peg or two. We just need something like that, or someone like him here."

"Well mum, you never know. There is a lot going on in the world now. Things are changing."

I woke to the dawn chorus. The birds happy to have made it through another night were twice their normal volume. As I opened my eyes, I realised that I wasn’t in my bed. In my flat the sound of a motorbike or the squealing of the breaks on a bus normally woke me.

I saw through my blurry vision that it was still dark outside. I knew that it would be getting lighter by the minute. So, it must be about 6AM?
I could have reached for my phone, but I didn’t want to disturb Ray. That’s what I did last night I thought, I finally accepted his invitation to go home for a “coffee”.

His arm was wrapped around my hip pulling me into his groin. I could feel his bulge through my slip and knickers. I admit it felt good. He was snoring quietly. He was such a nice guy, I thought I’d let him rest.

I had met him on a dating site a few months before. They are a minefield for a trans woman. I didn’t put I was trans on my profile, but always told them I was before a date. I got lots of men who it seemed to be excited to meet me. They just wanted to “fuck a tranny”. I was surprised how many talked dirty as soon as they found out. They seem to think trans women want to become trans for sex.

I was 38 before I decided I couldn’t live a lie anymore. When I lost both my parents to cancer I decided it probably runs in the family’s genes. Now I was alone I had no one to disappoint. It was a major decision, but I had held this inside for my whole life.

After my father died, I had taken over the mortgage payments on the house. His long illness had left us in arrears. Five years later when my mother died, I decided to cut my losses. After the sale I had enough to buy a small bedsit flat in Edmonton north London.

When I moved, I decided that was the time for Jennifer to meet the world. I had visited my doctor six months before. After a lot of awkward questions, he finally referred me to a gender identity clinic. I explained I would come out at work when I moved to another area. He seemed relieved that he wouldn’t have to deal with me after I moved out.

The day I moved I threw away all my male clothes except one set. I don’t know why I did it. I kept them in a “bug out” bag. I was sure this is what I always wanted though. I just couldn’t let go of my last link to my male life.

I had booked a few days off work to settle in, and had made an appointment to see the personnel manager the day I was due to return to work. When I walked in, she didn’t recognise me. After my explanation she was stunned. She had been on a course for LGBT, but never thought she would have to deal with it. After a busy day meeting my line manager and our MD, I was assured that it would make no difference to my job.

A general email was sent telling informing everyone of what I was doing. I was to be addressed with she and her pronouns. I knew this was really the beginning of the end. My job involved a lot of client facing sales. I sent emails to my customers and got a few congratulating me, a few sympathising with me. Mostly though there was silence. I think it made them uncomfortable.

Withing a few months my sales figures had suffered, and I got a call from my boss. They gave me a generous redundancy package. I don’t think they wanted a trans employee making waves. Bad for the company image.

This gave me the chance to have six months off and get used to being Jennifer. I kept my appointments at my new gp’s and the GIC, then began my hormone regime. After a few months I could see the results when I looked at selfies.

My confidence grew as I got less second looks while shopping. After a while I blended in as just another thirty something woman. Even though I was poorer than I had ever been in my life I was happy. I was happy just being me.

After nearly a year my bank account was nearly empty, and I took a job as a care worker. I had applied for sales jobs but never got an interview when they checked with my last employer. I had expected this, so it was no surprise.

My job brought me into contact with lots of different people. Only one of them, an old lady called Lucy seemed to notice I was trans. She was fine with it. She told me she would never have wanted to be a man, so she could understand why I didn’t.

I was getting a little bored being on my own, so I tried a few trans dating sites. They were full of guys just wanting free sex and who gave the women very little respect, so that never lasted long. I moved to straight dating sites, but promised myself I would always tell anyone I met that I was trans. I had heard horror stories about what happened when men found out afterwards.

That was how I met Ray. After we chatted over email, I decided to drop the “T” bomb. I expected him to run for the hill just like everyone did. Ray didn’t. He told me he felt sorry for me. This angered me and I told him I didn’t want his pity. He apologized and said he meant he felt sorry that I had to wait this long to be the person I was inside. He then asked to meet me for a coffee.

After four dates I knew most of what there was to know about him. He was forty-five, his wife had left him because he couldn’t father children. This had happened five years before. He had stayed single as it hurt him so much. He understood that his wife had wanted children, but she had said she wanted a “real man” before she left. He was shattered by the whole thing.

We had a lot in common. We both liked 70’s and 80’s music, Sci-fi and horror films. We just seemed to click. I never thought I would meet anyone like Ray. I have always loved women. I didn’t want to be with them though, I wanted to be them.

Ray finally persuaded me to come home with him after our fifth date. We sat close together on his sofa drinking wine and watching Forbidden Planet. He told me that Robby the Robot was one of the most expensive film props made in 1957. I knew this and told him Robby was in Lost in Space "War of the Robots" as a robotoid. He knew that and told me I was a bigger geek than him.

We got into a tickle fight and ended up kissing passionately. His hand cupped and massaged my left breast. My hand went to his crotch. I knew where this was leading. I was scared, but I wanted it. He led me upstairs.

I took my dress off but insisted on keeping my slip and knickers on. He was so very gentle and considerate. He asked permission for everything he did. He understood I was not comfortable with some parts of my body. When he entered me, he did it so slowly it hardly hurt at all. I did not enjoy the physical act, but I enjoyed giving him pleasure with my body. It felt right.

Now it was Sunday morning, and I could feel him moving behind me. I felt his lips kissing the back of my neck.

“What’s that for” I said.

“That’s for being you, Jenny. I think I may be falling a little in love with you.”

I snuggled into him. For the first time in my life I didn’t feel alone.

“I think I may be falling a little in love with you too Ray, but only if you get up and make me that coffee you promised me last night.”

Dear mum,

I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart for the love you have given me throughout my life. I know the sacrifices you have made to raise me and my brothers. The long hours you worked to put food on the table. Scrimping and saving to take us away on holidays.

Now that I’m old enough to understand you explained that dad never wanted children. Which explains why he rarely came on holiday with us. Why he never did things with us like our friend’s dad’s did. I can forgive him that. I understand now people want what they want.

You were so strong to stay with him after he beat you up that night when I was ten. You lost your front teeth and had two black eyes. You knew you would have to go back to him if we were to have any semblance of a normal family life. I can’t ever forgive him that. Even though he is not here anymore to ask. I would never understand a man punching his wife.

You told me he did it because you discovered his affair and threatened to leave him. If he was so possessive of you, why did he wander? I don’t understand him. I don’t understand how he used the threat of not visiting your dying mother in hospital against you. I still love him he was my dad. He was just a right bastard sometimes.

I know some women say men are like little boys that never grow up. I guess dad was one of them. I remember the few times he would take me and Paul fishing. I was the one running around untangling lines and tying hooks on. It was like I was the adult at twelve years old. Being the middle son, I was always the peacemaker. Keeping everyone out of trouble. I seemed to go from twelve to thirty in one go. I never had my mad teenage years.

Gary told me once all he learned from dad was how not to be a father to his own children. You were always our mother and father. Recently you told me he was a lovely boy when you met him. You said he changed after he came back from national service. The army made a man of him. Swearing, drinking and smoking. You loved him so you married.

I remember living in a caravan when I was three. You took me potato picking. Even then you did what you had to keep us fed. You are the one that has always been there for us. I don’t think anyone can truly appreciate their parents until they are parent themselves.

You keep thanking me for being there for you during covid. Thanking me for doing your shopping and taking you on holidays. I’m just returning what you have done for me. It’s an honor to get the chance to repay what you have done for me.

I love you mum and will always be there for you, like you were for me. There is just one secret I never told you. When we were coming back from shopping, and you heard the phone-in about trans issues. You said that you could understand why a man would want to be a woman. You said you would never want to be a man.

I nearly told you then. I know you always wanted a daughter. You had one. I have struggled with my gender all my life mum. I always wanted to be a girl. When dad caught me trying on your clothes at five, he scared me so much. He was so angry. I knew what I did was the worse thing in the world.

I don’t know if he ever told you. It made me scared of admitting it to anyone. So I did what I do and tried to make peace with myself and make the best of what I was.

It doesn’t go away though mum. Even now it tear's me apart not being who I want to be. I would just love to share it with the person I trust most in the world. Please understand. I’m not going to do anything drastic. I’m still the usual me. I just wanted you to know, to understand.

I don’t know why I’m the way I am. Perhaps I saw you and dad, and knew you were the one I wanted to be like.

Love you mum . Please understand.

I wrote this a few weeks back. I don't know if I will ever have the courage to send it. What if she doesn't understand? Once I let the genie out of the bottle, it won't go back in.

This is a continuation of "Life's Lottery". Steve is delving deeper into his Sarah persona.
This story contains sexual scenes.

I bit the bullet and took some pictures of myself as Sarah. Nothing
outrageous, mainly just myself in various wigs and underwear. Then I
posted them on a few contact sites. I really did not know what to expect,
and to be honest I really don't know why I did it. I think I was seeking
affirmation that I was acceptable as a woman by men.

I did note in my profile I was a crossdresser. It seemed wrong to say I
was trans. I really don't know what I am. I wasn't expecting any
responses, but when I checked the next day I had an overflowing mailbox.

Many were men just wanting quick sex. A large number of these were very
crude. I noticed that the more thoughtful messages came from the older
men. The majority of the messages made me feel sorry for women. If they
had to put up with men asking for the sort of things they had asked, then
god help them. I did realise that most men seem to think crossdressers,
dress just for sex. That may be true for some, but not for me.

I think I saw it as being one step closer to being a woman. Women have
sex with men. If I had sex with a man it would make me more womanly. That
was my thought process anyway. I got some "toys" from eBay and had been
practicing. It was uncomfortable at first, but after several attempts, I
found it quite pleasurable. I grew excited at the idea of perhaps having a real-
life warm man inside me.

I found one profile intriguing. It read.

Phil. A mature guy wants to meet trans/cd gurls to have fun with at my
house. Single, so I can accommodate for overnight stays, and even short
breaks. I do not want this to be just about sex. I do want a sub girl who
dresses 24/7. A "Stepford wife" would be nice, and welcome to live full-
time as my wife.

Could this be true? Would someone want a man posing as a woman to live as
his wife? My heart pounded in my chest. This was something I had never
expected. The idea was giving me a huge thrill. It would be like being
trapped. Forced to maintain a facade as a female full-time. If I
committed to something like this, it would be a full-on experience. I had
spent a few days as a woman and loved it, but I knew that I would change
back after a few days.

I could not get the idea out of my head. I wrestled with my feelings for
a week, then I messaged Phil. He was a perfect gentleman. I asked if he
was gay but would not admit it. Was that why he was seeking a
crossdressing partner?

He explained that he wasn't gay but bisexual. He had slept with women and
a few men. He adored femininity and women but enjoyed men. He had found
that with crossdressers, he could get the best of both. That sort of made
sense.

He arranged to pick me up from my flat and take me to dinner in a quiet
Italian restaurant. This would be one of many firsts for me. He assured
me that I would pass easily for a woman when I told him how nervous I
was. I knew I could not waste a chance like this.

I took an age to bathe and shave. I selected pretty, but down-to-earth
clothes. Super high heels and a mini skirt are fine if you want to be
read, I just wanted to pass. Nothing to see here. Just a woman having a
meal.

I wore a black corselette over my black lace knickers. Black stockings, a
full-length slip, a dark blue silky blouse, and a calf-length black
pleated skirt. I wore my two-inches heeled, black boots with this. I just
loved women's boots. They were ruched leather, with gold buckles.

When I had done my makeup for the third time I was ready. I sprayed an
extra dose of perfume on my neck and waited at the front door. My stomach
was doing cartwheels. The anticipation and my nerves fighting to see who
would win. Part of me was hoping he would not show, and part wished he
would.

Then there was a knock at the door. I held my breath and opened it. There
stood Phil. A handsome man with a head of grey hair. Just like his
profile picture. He looked taller than his picture. He was a good 6
inches taller than me at 6ft 2.
He had a broad chest that made me look slight in comparison.

"Sarah. My, my. You are more beautiful in person."

He held out his hand and I saw the rose he offered. I took a deep breath.
What a wonderful gesture. My eyes teared up. This was a unique gesture
that only women are offered by men. It meant so much to me at that
moment. I melted. He could have asked me to do anything and I would have.
He saw my reaction and understood.

"Oh, Sarah. It's alright. A beautiful woman like you should get used to
getting flowers from admirers."

"Thank you, Phil. It's just that......"

He kissed me on the cheek and led me to his car.

On the way to the restaurant, we talked about our lives. He asked me why
I did not live as a woman all the time. I told him that I needed to work
to support myself. I was sure I would get fired if I came out. He looked
thoughtful.

When we arrived he opened the car door for me. Another first. We had
parked a few hundred yards from the restaurant. He made sure he stood on
my right side as we walked. I remember I had read that in the Middle
Ages, knights wore their swords on the left side of their bodies which
allowed their right arm available for a quick response to protect their
lady.

This gave me a thrill. He had an old-fashioned sense of chivalry. I knew
I was in for a full experience of what it was like to be a woman in
perhaps the 1950s. I caught a glance of our reflection in a shop window.
We made a handsome couple. As I walked, I felt my suspenders tugging on
my stockings, the swish of my skirt about my knees. I even felt my lace
knickers slowly moving into the crease of my buttocks. It felt so
sensual. With the sound of my heels clicking as a background, I went into
mental overload. I wished this would never end. If this is what women
felt like all the time, I never wanted to be a man again.

He opened the door and we were shown to our table. The waiter pulled out
the seat for me and we sat down.

"Shall I order for you Sarah? Would that be alright with you? I don't
mean to offend."

I smiled. He really was an old-fashioned guy. I loved it.

"Please do. I'm sure you know best Phil."

I couldn't believe I just said that, but this whole thing of acting as a
submissive woman was a new and wonderful experience.

Between courses, as we chatted he gently touched my hand. I didn't draw
away. By the time we had coffee, he leaned across and kissed me on the
mouth. Another first. My loins tingled when he kissed me. I knew then
that I wanted him.

"I know this is forward of me on our first date, but would you like to
come back for a nightcap?"

I looked into his eyes and saw a need. A fierce hunger for me. This
lovely man wanted me. Well Sarah, not Steve. Sarah was a desirable woman.
Steve had never really been desired by anyone. Even his ex-wife never
really desired him. Steve slipped away a little more and Sarah dominated.

"Yes. I think I rather would."

I winked at him. We both knew what was going to happen. Nightcap, coffee,
etchings. It was all the same. It meant sex.

When we got to his house, no sooner were we through the door than we
lunged at each other. The sexual tension in the car on the way was
tangible. His musky masculine smell, contrasted to my sweet feminine
scent. I felt more feminine than I had in my entire life.

Our tongues explored each other's mouths as our hands explored each
other's bodies. I felt his hands grip and squeeze my buttocks as my hands
went for his belt. His trousers dropped to the floor and I followed them.
I paused as I saw his growing erection. This would be another first.
Steve said no. After this, you'll be a cocksucker. Sarah said good, lots
of women are.

Steve watched in horror as Sarah's hand with its pretty pink nails pulled
down Phil's boxers and his hard member sprang out. Steve's voice was
silent now. Waiting for a line to be crossed. A line that you can't come
back from and still call yourself a man. A least that's how Steve saw it.

I licked the tip and heard Phil groan in pleasure. I used my hands to
pull his boxers completely off as I slowly engulfed his cock. My right
hand stroked the shaft, while I tickled his balls with the nails of my
left.

Phil moaned. "Oh, god yes, yes"

I was pleasing a man, I was pleasing a man as a woman.

I bobbed my head up and down and swirled my tongue under the shaft as I
sucked. I felt him stiffen then to my surprise he pulled away.

I looked up, my disappointment must be obvious.

"You almost drove me over the edge, Sarah. That was incredible. I just
want to have more fun and let you enjoy the pleasures of being a woman."

He helped me to stand and started to unbutton my blouse. I unbuttoned his
shirt and ran my fingers through his hairy chest. Steve never had any
hair on his chest, Sarah was glad about that.

Phil took in my underwear.

"What wonderful old fashion lingerie you are wearing. You must be a mind
reader. I love the 50's look. Is that a corselette?"

"Yes, look"

I lifted the hem of my skirt and petticoat, showing my stockings held
tight with the straps from the corselette. A look of sheer lust came
across his face. He grabbed my hips and pushed me into the kitchen
counter. I felt the back of my skirt lifted and his hand caressing my
backside through the nylon lace of my knickers.

"Oh god, that feels so good," I whispered.

"Where have you been all my life, you sexy bitch."

Bitch? Oh yes. I did feel like a bitch on heat. I felt my feet being
gently forced apart. My boot heels skidded slightly as my legs spread.
His fingers probed my hole. I shivered. I had played with myself plenty
of times, but this was someone else doing it. It felt so good.

"You're lubricated? You naughty girl. Expecting me to fuck you were you."

"I had hopes Phil. It always pays to be prepared. I have more lube in my
handbag."

He reached in and found the lube. I could hear him lubing himself up.
This is really going to happen I thought. I was going to have sex as a
woman. My breathing quickened in anticipation. He pressed himself against
me. I could feel his cock pressing between my buttocks. His hands reached
around my bra cups and found my nipples.

"Oh Phil, yes, yes!"

I had read online that some men have almost no feelings in their nipples.
My nipples are so sensitive that I once came by just playing with them. I
thrust my behind towards his cock. One hand left my right breast and I
felt the head of his cock push into my hole. I groaned out loud as he
slowly slid into me.

This felt so much better than my toys. It was warm, and hard, but most of
all I wasn't in control. I was being, fucked, used, and perhaps even made
love to. I felt my knees begin to buckle. The sensations were
overwhelming. The feeling of him sliding smoothly in and out. The
slapping sound as his balls met my buttocks. His hands returned to
tugging and squeezing my nipples. I could feel something building in me.
I was going to come without touching myself.

I looked around the kitchen and imagined myself as a suburban housewife.
I would live this life every day. Wear this sensual underwear, and feel
sexy walking in heels. Men might look at me with lustful thoughts. My
life would be filled with cooking and cleaning, makeup, dresses, and
trying different looks to make myself more attractive. I would wear sexy
undies in the bedroom to turn on my husband.

At that moment, with his cock inside me, his hand squeezing my nipple,
and his hot breath in my ear. I wanted nothing more. I wanted this
feeling to never go away. Steve's voice in my head was silent. He was
getting fucked out of Sarah until only Sarah remained.

I felt his right hand reach into my straining lace knickers and grip my
hard little "clittty".

"Cum for me. Cum for your husband like a good little housewife," he said
almost directly into my ear.

I shuddered and had the most powerful climax of my life. My knees
buckled, if he had not been holding me I would have fallen to the floor.
He continued to pump into me for a few more moments, then grunted as he
shed his pent-up load deep inside me.

I felt so satisfied. Sex had never been like this before. I enjoyed my
climax but was so happy I had satisfied him. He kissed the back of my
neck as I tried to compose myself.

"That was amazing Sarah. You are just too perfect. Will you stay the
night?"

On The Run

This is a sex story, if semi-graphical sex scenes offend you please do not read it.

I stood at the sink washing up the dinner things. My pink rubber gloves groping around for the last knife in the bowl.

I felt a light kiss on the side of my neck, then a hot breath in my ear. I tilted my head to give him more access. Already I could feel my nipples grow hard. He certainly knew what ”floated my boat”.

Softly his hand brushed down the shoulder of my loose fitting summer dress exposing my lacy bra strap. He slipped that down over my shoulder too. This loosened my bra cup and I felt my hard nipple brush against the soft cup.

I sighed, and he continued nibbling my neck. I threw my head back slightly, enjoying this attention. This encouraged him further. I felt a rough, calloused hand slip over my shoulder . Soon it cupped and massaged my right breast. My breathing grew deep.

“Oh, yes, god, that feels good”

His left hand worked its way around to my left breast. I let the gloves fall into the sink. Whatever happened , the washing up was the last thing on my mind.

He stood behind me working his magic fingers on both my nipples, while nibbling on my earlobes. His tongue occasionally darting into my ear. I was glowing now, feeling a warm glow in the center of my being.

My body was forced roughly against the sink. I could feel his hardness pushing against me, through my thin dress and knickers. I was his. He was taller and stronger than me. I could not move. I didn’t want to move .

I groaned as he started to dry hump me against the sink. His hands moved to my waist and spun me around. I looked up into his hungry eyes. He mouth quickly found mine. Our tongues urgently searching each others.

My dress started to slip down my body. I snatched at it.

“Leave it!”

I released my grip and it drifted slowly to the floor. He pushed away from me drinking in the sight before him.

I stood in my black lace bra with the cups fallen down, exposing my small mounds with my jutting nipples. My corset style suspender belt , pulling in my stomach and tightly supporting my seamed stockings. My black, full cut knickers left me a small amount of modesty.

I yelped as he bent and picked me up. It was as if I was a small child being put to bed. He walked out of the kitchen through the hallway. He held me tightly to carry me the stairs. I felt totally safe in his arms.

He gently lowered me to the bed. I slid further down until I was kneeling at his feet.

I started to unbutton his trousers. He looked down and smiled as they fell to his ankles.

“You don’t have to, I’m very hard already, you sexy thing”

“I want to”

He stepped free of the fallen garment and his 8 inch cock sprang up into my face. My mouth watered. He smelt of man and Paco Rabanne. I breathed in his manly musk then lifted his cock so I could kiss his heavy balls.

I licked and nibbled his ball sack, Then slowly and lightly sucked each in turn. His cock grew even bigger and twitched as I did this.

"Oh wow, that feels so good.”

I turned my attention to his cock. I carefully slipped the glans into my mouth. I sucked hard as the tip of my tongue tickled the sensitive underside.
I was looking up into his face, I saw the effect I was having on him.

It always amazed me how powerful I felt while giving him a blowjob. Men think it’s the ultimate act of submission, but there is so much power and control in giving one. They are trusting you with their most precious possession.

“Oh yes, yes. Not for too long or I will come!”

I used both my index fingers to stroke up and down the shaft as I worked my magic with my tongue.

“No!”

He pulled away.

“You’re too good at that. You almost got a mouthful then”

He raised me up from the floor and removed my bra. Then he forced my head back while locking onto my lips kissing me deeply. I was pushed me back onto our bed and held me down by my shoulders. His mouth found my eager nipples. Sucking, kissing, and biting. I felt an orgasm building. It had happened once before.

He stopped his attention on my breasts and kissed his way down to my knickers. He slipped his fingers under the lace trim on both leg holes. His fingers worked their wonders on sensitive parts within.

“Mmm, that feels so good”

He gripped my soft knickers and slowly drew them down my legs.

The cool air felt incredible after my sensitive organs had been encased in nylon all day. His mouth quickly found my small clit. He sucked hard and swirled it around with his tongue. It started to harden.

“There’s life in the old girl yet! “

He said admiring his work.

Opening the drawer on his bedside table, he retrieved some lubricant. I spread my legs wide and lifted my backside off the bed. He slipped a coated finger inside me and I shivered. Soon he was massaging my passage with two, then three fingers.

“I want you in me now!”

I sounded like a cheap whore, I thought. He pushed my legs high and wide until they were close to my ears. My hole was open and waiting for him.

With a long slow thrust he entered me.

“Ohhhoooo, yes that hit the spot”

I felt full, there is nothing like the feeling of a warm live cock inside you. He left it there, unmoving to allow me time to get used to his large member. Slowly and gently he withdrew half way. He thrust back in a little quicker. A slow rhythm built up.

“Uh, Uh, Uh”

I was in heaven. His face was framed by my stocking covered knees. He was possessing me!

His cock felt wonderful, I swear I could feel the veins pulsing as he fucked me.

The warm feeling of an approaching orgasm was overtaking me, spreading outwards through my body. He saw this and quickened his pace. Slamming into me with urgency, making a slapping sound as our bodies met.

I could hold in no longer and screamed as I came. Just then I felt him swell and start pumping, what felt like gallons of his wonderful warm seed inside me.

He collapsed on top of me sweating. I held him tight and kissed the side of his face while I gently caressed his back.

After a few moments I eased my way out from under him and went to the bathroom to clean up. I did not want to be sleeping on the wet spot tonight.

When I had freshend up and changed into my white silk nightgown, I returned to find him sleeping. Poor boy, he did exert himself I thought.

It amazed me how much I loved this life. Only two years ago I had been a man, on the run, falsely accused of murder. I never would have believed Roger’s plan for me to take over his ex-wife’s life, would work.

I hated the idea at first. Roger's wife had been having an affair with a drug baron, and had fled the country with him, leaving everything behind. I now had all her identification. Mike Walters had disappeared. I had just taken over Sarah Fowler's life

After agreeing to assume Sarah’s life, I kept hidden, practicing. That was until Roger moved home, then I was introduced to everyone as Sarah, Roger’s wife.

There was no sex to start with, until one drunken night it happened. I found the clothes made me feel so sexy, and Roger could not keep his hands off me.

Now thanks to black market hormones I was well on the way to having my very own, natural set of boobs. My penis had shrunk, but I get my orgasms another way now.

This is my take on a Poco song from 1976 . Please give it a listen. I find it insanely catchy. It's about a woman called Rose Dunn in the old west.

Roll along, roll on
Rose of Cimarron
Dusty days are gone
Rose of Cimarron

Rose stood there staring out of her window, She was wearing a long black dress and was tightly corseted. She wasn't expecting any visitors, but liked to look presentable. Just in case.

Shadows touch the sand and
Look to see who's standin'
Waitin' at your window
Watchin', will they ever show?

Most of the the men she knew and loved her were dead now. She couldn't help thinking on those days of excitement. She was loved, she was needed. Everyone wants to feel needed, don't they?

Can you hear them callin'?
You know they have fallen
On campfires cold and dark
That never see a spark burn bright

The sun was setting now. Rose recalled how it had all started. When she ran with George "Bittercreek" Newcomb. The man she loved.
The man she lost.

His name was Ronny Dunn. He lived on a farm with his father, mother and two older brothers. Being the smallest, the runt of the litter he was useless at the heavy farm work. He was left in the care of his mother. There he learned to wash,cook, clean and tend to her brothers wounds.

When their father died the older brothers struggled to keep the farm going. Later that year mother caught a fever, Ronny tended to her devotedly until she passed in her sleep.

Ronny now stayed in the house and did all of the housework. He overheard his brothers talk as she served a poor meal of barley and vegetable stew. There was very little food left and the crops were stunted.

"We can't ask that of him he's a man."

"Have you seen him, he was wearing ma's old apron when I came in. I'm tellin ya, He'll do it."

His brother explained they were broke and were going to starve. They had an idea to hold up the stage coach, but needed a distraction.
They knew the driver would never stop for a man due to fear of robbery. But a woman?

Ronny wore his ma's best dark blue blouse and grey skirt. He wrapped himself in a shawl and put on her best bonnet. her brothers were impressed. He looked convincing.

What they didn't know was that underneath Ronny was wearing his mother corset,stockings, petticoats and bloomers. Even his small feet were able to fit in her Sunday best heeled ankle boots.

The hold up went without a hitch and the now much richer family went on the run. The brother asked Ronny to change before they left. He refused and said.

"I'm Rose now, I'm never going back to being Ronny."

The family hooked up with George "Bittercreek" Newcomb. Newcomb was riding with the Wild Bunch gang led by famous outlaw Bill Doolin. Rose's brothers saw Newcomb was falling in love and took Newcomb aside to explain to him she was not all she seemed.

"Don't matter none to me, all I see is a woman." was his reply.

Rose was infatuated with her "Georgie", she made supply runs into town since he couldn't because he was a wanted man.

Comin' to you only
You're the one they turned to
The only one they knew who'd do
All her best to be around
When the chips were down