Birthday Present
by: Vickie Tern and Rhonda Wagram © 1996

 

 

Chapter Eight: Bea's Weekend
(in which his wife tells our heroine what she's done)

The women arrived around four o'clock, bubbling over with excitement. Pearl was anxious to get home, so they just helped Bea carry her bags into the house, and then left. Bea greeted me as if we hadn't seen each other for ages, and kissed me deeply. She tasted funny. Was it another man's cum lingering in her mouth? Or had she eaten something strange? She wasn't the least bit surprised to find me in handcuffs. "Come into my bedroom" She said, "I have so much to tell you." She literally dragged me upstairs.

"Bea, would you release me now, please?" I asked her as she sat me down in her overstuffed divan chair and sat down on her bed.

"No, sweetheart, not now. Didn't Steve explain it to you? I want to tell you all about the different men who fucked me, and how they felt when they held me with their cocks stuffed deep into me, and how they moved inside me, and what I did to them. And I want you to feel absolutely helpless while I tell you. I want to make you feel as jealous of me as you can be! I want you to positively twist and writhe."

"Not jealous because they fucked me, my darling, dearest girlfriend. Not jealous because you're my husband, and husbands think they own their wives. Not at all! You know we're in a new kind of relationship now, don't you, and you've accepted it with pleasure, haven't you? We've both had our lovers over this past weekend, haven't we?"

And she gave me such a dazzling conspiratorial smile that I had to smile back at her, and my rear end squeezed tight onto my butt plug as my mind recalled the ways Steve had used me.

"No, I want you to feel jealous because I had so many more lovers than you did, and you didn't get to fuck them too. Are those handcuffs comfortable? Good! Those men were such wonderful lovers, my dear, and each one so very different. All of them with much bigger cocks than yours, darling, and much more stamina, and they made love so much more imaginatively than you ever did when you were still a man. Are you wearing one of those butt plugs right now that's bigger than your own cock? I told Steve I wanted you to finish the weekend with a really large one tucked into you. That's nice. Steve is bigger than you are, as I'm sure you know, but it's especially nice that right now you're stuffed in back with much bigger equipment than you've got dangling in front. It lets you know what you're good for."

She looked over at me smugly, visibly pleased with herself. "I've given you such a wonderful gift, darling! Aren't you happy that your modest endowment doesn't matter any more, that for you from now on, a man with a bigger cock is not a rival but a potential lover, someone who can satisfy your sexual needs when you submit your body to him? And I've been thinking of you the whole time! I even made sure to suck off each one of my lovers, so I could teach you the different techniques that seem to work best with different size pricks. You can never tell when you'll need to know things like that, can you, my dear sweet little husband-girl. Oh, it's so good to be back with you again! You look so pretty! You'll have to tell me all about your weekend. But first I want to tell you about mine."

She kicked off her shoes and lay back on the bed, staring dreamily up at the ceiling. "I met my first man even before we pulled up to the main building to check in. He was down the hill by the main gate, talking with a caretaker who lived in the gate house, and as our car stopped to be checked in he winked at us, three good-looking women obviously looking forward to a few days of fun. He was pretty good-looking himself, with a chestful of curly blonde hair, and tight shorts, and all over he was gleaming with sweat. I guess he'd been out jogging. Kay and Pearl looked at each other, and then at me, and Pearl said, 'Bea honey, this one's for you. We've both caught lots of fish, but you're new at it. No time like the present! We'll check you into your room and get your baggage stowed.'"

"Well, I had a plan figured out even before I finished getting out of the car. Pearl pulled away, and I walked over to the caretaker as if the jogger didn't exist."

"'Can I help you, ma'am?' he asked me."

"'Yes, you can,' I said. 'Have any really terrific studs checked in yet this weekend? I don't like wasting my time with second raters.' And I glance at my gleaming blonde, my fish, and then I give the caretaker a big smile. 'You know what I mean.' Then I glance again at my blonde fish, and sure enough, he's already wriggling, trying to edge into the conversation. So I coolly turn my shoulder away from him, and add, 'Are there any regulars up yet, men who expect to stay up for the weekend and who come often?' I placed my hand on the caretaker's arm and leaned into his face, still smiling. He looked a little uncomfortable."

"Well, I'd read that only the bellhops and the waitresses were allowed to service hotel guests, and only if asked to do it directly and unambiguously. They're specially trained for it, and medically tested regularly. All the other staff are strictly forbidden. So I knew the caretaker was no problem for me. Anyhow, he had a big beer belly that hung way down over his cock. I'll want to try out a man like that some day, to see if his weight gives a little extra heft to his moves when he's inside me. But not yet."

"By now, Mr. Jogger is in trouble. Did I mention that his shorts were tight? Well, he's got a boner you wouldn't believe. Even I didn't believe it. Another glance over at him, as if he's bothering the two of us and I want him to go away, and this time I notice his huge bulge. In fact the whole head of his cock has poked above his belt-line. It's a huge purple dome the size of an apple, and his T shirt doesn't even begin to conceal it. Now that's really flattering to a girl, you know? I began to get really wet down under, you know? I mean, I knew I'd have to stop teasing him, or I'd start dripping and splashing all over the floor!"

"Well, golden boy comes to the rescue. 'Ma'am,' he says a little timidly. 'This is my first time here, but maybe I can show you the way.'"

"I looked him over, the way Mae West used to look over her next piece of meat, from head to foot and back again, then down to his crotch, then up into his face. 'Maybe,' I said, and I reached for that huge knob sticking above his pants, and I pulled it toward me like a gear shift lever. 'C'mon, let's see.' And I led him away up hill a little distance and into the woods, the same way I'd lead a dog on a short leash. In fact later that weekend we had dinner together -- I ate dinner while he crawled under the table and ate me -- and I suggested that he get a cock ring installed for clipping on a dog leash, so it would be easier to lead him around by his prick. He said his girlfriend back home meant to do just that with him. She wanted to take him to concerts and dinners by a leash sticking out of his fly, so she could tug on him to make him keep up with her. After his session with me, he said, he had decided to let her do it."

"Well, it turned out he was as submissive as you are, dear, but much better trained,. When we got to a secluded part of the woods I let go of his cock and turned, and just stood there looking at him, to see what he'd do. Immediately he dropped to his knees, and lowered his head. So I just spread my feet apart, and put my hands on my hips, and thrust my pelvis at him, and asked who had taught him to do that. He told me it was his girlfriend. I asked how his girlfriend felt about his servicing other women. He said she was angry with him, and had ordered him to please as many women as he could during this weekend, to learn to respect them better. Then he lifted his face and leaned way back, and I stepped forward a little, and straddled his head, and there we were. He's on his knees facing straight up, and I'm straddling his face, looking down into his eyes. He started to suck on my snatch, his tongue working into me as if it were the strongest and longest muscle in his body, his eyes looking straight up into mine the whole time, imploring my approval, as if every moment he was worried I might not be pleased with him. When he found my clit and diddled it with his tongue, I came, and I suppose I did gush real fluids into his mouth, because he was making loud slurping noises all through the next two times I came. Later on, when we were walking back to the hotel, he told me that his girlfriend loved to have him drink up her pee mixed in with her cum juices, and he wondered why I hadn't honored him the same way, by pissing into his mouth. I told him if I meant to use anyone as a toilet it would be my husband. You see, darling, I was thinking of you the whole time."

"Anyhow, after a while I took pity on him, though I'm sure that tongue of his could have gone on and on. I gestured that he should lie on his back, and he did, and lower his shorts, and he did, and I tried to lower myself onto that huge purple knob. Well! It was almost embarrassing! If it hadn't been for Bob, a week or so ago, when the girls gave him to me as my birthday treat, you remember, the same night I gave you Steve, you remember I'm sure, well, if it weren't for Bob I'd never have fit. Your prick certainly never prepared me for anything like this!"

"I was wet enough, and I sat down on him very carefully, and I pushed myself onto him very slowly, but even so I could take him only an inch at a time, and then I had to pause to stretch out. A few times I feared I'd split wide open. It was like having a baby, I imagine, only in reverse. He wasn't very long, or I really might have split wide open, but he had the thickest cock I saw during the whole weekend. When he was altogether inside me, I felt the way a female dog does when the male's knob has swelled up in her and he can't withdraw, you know? I couldn't move. But it didn't matter, because he thrust at me a few times and came, and then with his cum oozing all over both of us we both came again. I think he had three orgasms, and I never stopped having one after another, wave after wave, for the whole hour we were welded together. And all with me scarcely moving!"

"You know, dear, when you were Henry, you didn't even begin to measure up to that man. It's as if you were a different species. That little prick of yours could diddle me all right, and sometimes bring me off, and I love having it around, and I mean to use it from time to time, but trust me, dear, you're much better off being a woman. You've made the right decision."

I started to protest that I had never made any such decision, but Bea had returned to her story, her face dreamily recollecting.

"He never got soft until after the last one, when he came out of me with a funny 'plurp' sound, and I decided that was enough for one afternoon. So I sat down on his face, and he licked me clean enough so I could walk without leaking. But I saved a lot of his cum inside me for you, dear. Later I let it drain into some new nylon panties I bought just for that purpose, and I put it in a baggy in my valise over there. Those panties will be your night-time gags all this week, so you'll know how my men tasted. You see, dear? I want to share everything. Anyhow, I licked and sucked his cock clean, and found I couldn't get my mouth onto him when he had gotten fully hard again. But licking the underside of that thick shaft brought him off. Remember that, darling, when some man's cock is much too big for even your mouth. In a way it was like trying to kiss the top of a fence post!"

"And you know something, Honey? It turned out that the whole time he was lying on his back and I was riding on top of him, his back was getting all scratched up by brambles and nettles underneath him. He must have been in real pain the whole time. When I saw how his skin was torn, I felt terrible for him. But he just laughed, and said that his girlfriend whips him all the time, that the pain adds a little extra spice when he's making love. Well, my dear, you may be quite sure, as I train you to become the girl I want to have for my husband, that I will never inflict pain on you. Never! Unless you need and deserve it, to punish you for disobeying me. But you never will, will you, darling. Come here!"

She sat up on the bed, and crooked her finger at me. I got up out of the divan chair and wiggled my butt over to her, very much aware of the butt plug in my rear, and much aware that her story had given me an erection. Then when I was directly in front of her I also dropped to my knees, I still don't know why. She seemed so self-confident, so deserving of my worship. "Oh, aren't you sweet!" Bea exclaimed, sounding charmed and delighted. She spread her legs so I could lean forward and kiss her slit through her panties, and I buried my face in her crotch. She held my head there for a moment, and kissed the top of my head, and patted me affectionately, as if I really were her beloved pet. I nuzzled her and looked up, and she motioned me back to my chair with her head, looking pleased.

"Well," she said. "I see that Steve has been busy with you. I'm so happy that you appreciate what I'm doing with you, my dear, and why, and what I'll want you to become as our marriage progresses. And that now you understand everything, or enough anyhow, for now. And that you don't mind some of the tricks I used to get you where you are now, especially when you didn't know what I really wanted."

I started to object that there were many things we needed to discuss, but again Bea wasn't listening. She lay back again on her bed, and started in again.

"Now, you'll appreciate how I arranged for my second really good fuck. The opportunity came about two hours later, during the cocktail hour, and I guess you could say that it continued through dinner. It seems that as a first-time visitor, the management arranged some special things for me --a bouquet of flowers in my room when I arrived, and a box of chocolates, and free access to the room's wet bar for the first night, and one of the Hotel's more dependable guests requested to look in and see if everything was OK."

"He was a doll! Short, a little shorter even than me, and cute as can be, with clean, chiseled features, and the nicest smile. His manner was a little shy and utterly charming. While I was putting away my clothes, and in fact just as I was stuffing my first pair of soaked panties into a baggy for you, there came a knock on the door, and when I opened it, his darling round head popped through and smiled at me and said, 'Hi, Bea! I'm Edgar! Call me Eddie! I'm a guest this weekend too. The management asked me to look in to see if you have everything you need. I tried to bring along your two friends, um, yes, Pearl and Kay, so we could have a kind of cocktail hour of our own, all together. But they're busy, and Kay told me to run along and tell you not to look for either of them until much later tonight.'"

"I opened the door wide and invited him in, and in he came, with a kind of jaunty dance step. I saw immediately what special kind of fun I could have with him, and I started right in. 'Eddie,' I said. 'You're just in time! Please, I need your advice! Which of these two dresses should I wear to dinner tonight?' I picked up two that were still lying on the bed, about to be hung in the closet, a rose chiffon, and a beaded black velvet with appliques, and I held them in front of me, first one, then the other. He looked admiringly at both.

"'Well, Bea,' Eddie said, 'They're very different, Are you feeling frivolous and feminine, sort of helpless, like the pink dress, or do you feel more controlling and severe, more of a femme fatale, like the black one?'"

"'I don't know,'" I said. "'Maybe you can help me decide.' I handed him the chiffon. 'Would you hold this up against you for a moment so I can see what the effect is?' Well, he was a little disconcerted, but he did it. 'Yes,' I said sort of vaguely. 'You know, Eddie, that's a good color for you. Does your wife like to dress you in rose?'"

"By now he was blushing, just as I'd hoped. 'No,' he said, 'My ex-wife didn't like to see me wear anything flowery, not even Hawaiian shirts. She wanted me to look like a real man.' He smiled and glanced at me, then looked away, blushing even deeper. This, I thought to myself, is a piece of cake!"

"'And if you were to wear that color, you wouldn't be a real man?' I asked, looking him steadily in the eyes. I decided to take the plunge. 'Let's see! I'll take this dress off, and my bra, and panties, and everything, and you put that dress on, with a bra, and panties, and everything, and then we'll see if you can still be a real man!' Eddie got so confused, the poor dear, that he just stood there with an odd smile on his face, looking at me, and looking away, and clutching the dress even closer to him. I don't know if anyone was ever propositioned like that before. I'm sure he hadn't been. Before he could come back to his senses I quickly laid out a bra and slip, and stockings and a garter belt, and the laciest panties I could find in a hurry, all at hand on the bed next to him. 'There you are, Eddie,' I said. 'If you're a man, welcome to Paradise!' And then very slowly, looking steadily at his eyes the whole time, I began to unbutton the top button on my dress."

"'I...uh...do you...?' he started to ask, but I just kept staring at him with my femme fatale smile, finished the top button, and began on the second."

"'I think I feel controlling and severe,' I said to him. 'I'll wear the black velvet to dinner. Do you feel frivolous and feminine and helpless? Will you accompany me tonight wearing that dress you're still holding? Can you make love to me in that dress right now, and then go to cocktails and dinner with me?' Then in a single movement I swept my dress off over my head, and then swept my hands down over my breasts, cupping them and lifting them, and preening myself up on tiptoe for a moment. Then I bent over, eyes still fixed on his, and reached for the hem of my slip. I knew he could see way down the cleft between my breasts."

"Well, my dearest hubby-girl, at that point Eddie turned to jelly, and he was mine. I wish I'd thought to do something like that with you a year ago, to get you into your first dress. But by that time, sex with me wouldn't have been enough incentive for you, I suppose. And you didn't need to prove to yourself that you were a man -- you thought you were one. Anyhow, Eddie gave out a little moan, and set the dress onto the bed, and started to unbuckle his pants. I waited until they were draped around his ankles, and then I came over to him and took his head between my hands and kissed him on the lips, slowly, and then I took off my slip and sat down on the bed just a few feet away, still looking directly at him. I'm sure he noticed that I was wearing a bra and nothing else, naked from the waist down, looking at him. His eyes fixed fascinated on my bush. I crossed my legs. 'Well?' I said?"

"Inside of a minute Eddie was stark naked. He picked up the bra and slung it around him, fastened it in front, turned it, cupped himself, pulled up the straps, straightened the bandeau in front, and reached for the panties. Well, well, I thought to myself. Eddie has done this before."

"'Stockings and garter belt first,' I said, 'Or your panties won't come off fast enough for you to fuck me while I'm available. Is the bra as comfortable as your others?"

"'Yes,' he said, blushing even deeper than before, if that was possible. 'How did you know that I have others?'"

"'Oh, we girls can always recognize each other,' I said. 'But unlike your wife, I like men who wear brassieres. In fact, I have a hubby at home I'm turning into a wife right now, and he loves it."

At this point I couldn't sit still any more. "Bea, listen!" I said. "I don't ...."

"Oh yes you do!" Bea said suddenly, sitting straight up and ... well, glaring at me for a moment, then softening again. "Henry, I'm telling you this story for a reason! I love you, and I especially love what I've made you, and I mean to go much further with you, as you'll soon find out. So far you've been understanding, and considerate, and you've gone along with everything. But don't think I can't feminize another man to my purposes, if you should decide you don't want me to make you the sweet, compliant, useful woman I know you can be. You do want to keep going with you, don't you?"

I wasn't sure what she meant by that last -- of course married people go with each other. Or did she mean turning me into Steve's fuckslut, or her own, or into whatever else she had in mind? So I just nodded.

"Say it, Henry!"

"Yes, Bea, I want you to keep going with me." And I did! And then out it came! "I need you, Bea!" I cried out to her. I was feeling strange about her jogger, and a little jealous of Eddie, and a little humiliated, and terribly vulnerable! If my hands weren't still cuffed behind me, I'd have wiped my eyes. They were filling with tears.

"Well that's just lovely, Honey!" Bea was moved when she heard how I said it, and saw how I felt. "Then rest assured, my precious. I will certainly keep going with you. We won't stop."

She relaxed and resumed her story. "Anyhow, Eddie got into the rose chiffon gown, and he looked so sweet, just like a girl going to her first prom. I put makeup on him, and he was in seventh heaven. A real transvestite, his dick getting rock hard just from the thought of putting on a dress or mascara, and I soon had him as pretty as could be in both. You know, his wife suspected, but she never knew. And when she finally found his cache of dresses and lingerie, she left him. Can you imagine? Walking out on a man who can maintain a practically permanent erection as long as he's dressed like a girl? So silly! So terribly wasteful!"

"Well, I kept my word and we made love a few times, but I was still so stretched out from my golden boy I couldn't feel Eddie, much. So I only came twice, after about an hour of steady screwing, only toward the end, when he was languishing and sighing and blissed out and finally starting to get soft. I was the first girl he'd ever fucked dressed as a girl, and he told me he was never again going to make love any other way. He developed such a crush on me! When we were finished, he wanted to lick me out, and he was terribly disappointed when I told him 'No'. But I wanted to save his cum for you, so I put on another fresh pair of panties and oozed into them all through cocktails and dinner, and then put them all damp and lovely into a baggie for you for tomorrow."

"I put on my black velvet gown and looked really svelte, and he dressed up as cute as could be in my chiffon, and ran down to buy a blonde wig from the beauty salon, and then he stayed dressed and by my side the whole weekend, my devoted servant, even when I was making love to other men. He got himself a complete new wardrobe and make-over for Saturday night. I spent Saturday night learning bondage tricks from a man who was a master at them, who had brought his very own slave, and I needed a slave to practice on. Eddie really was a born panty slave, no doubt of it! He went home this afternoon planning to throw out all his male clothes and begin a course of hormones and go all the way toward becoming a woman, all on his own. Maybe even try sex with men. He was so grateful that I'd liberated him, as he put it!"

"But you see, Honey, there's nothing for you to feel jealous about, that I had another girl picking up after me during the weekend, sucking me out, and slurping up cocks I'd wet down.. I wanted it to be you, remember. And it will be, dear. Trust me!"

It was getting dark out, and Bea's story still hadn't gotten to Friday evening, much less to Sunday afternoon, when the ladies' all kissed their gentlemen goodbye and went home to their husbands, and the gentlemen returned to their wives. Without saying a word, Bea took the key to the handcuffs out of her bedside drawer and released me, and the two of us went downstairs together. She went into the living room and began reading the Sunday newspaper, and I knew what was expected of me. I looked through the fridge and found that Steve had thought out even this moment. There was a note pointing to goose pate, crackers, and chilled wine, lobster salad, potato salad, two huge Italian club sandwiches, and the fixings for espresso coffee. I brought them all in on a tray, set them down on the coffee table in front of Bea, poured out the wine, and then unexpectedly, knelt down on the floor in front of my wife. And just as I had done when I came home from Celeste's committed to be a woman for a year like it or not, I started to cry. But this time once I started, I couldn't stop. I buried my face in her lap, and just kept sobbing, inconsolable.

Bea wasn't at all surprised. She remained seated on the couch, and she leaned over and stroked my head affectionately. "There, there," she said. "I know! It's all moving so fast for you, now. You think you've lost all control over things. But darling, you never did have control over things. You only thought you did. Trust me. Surrender yourself to me. I know what's best for the both of us. I'll tell you about the rest of my weekend some other time. There were a few more wonderful men, and I have their cum on my panties for you to share, and one wonderful pair of panties covered with the cum that leaked out of my ass. But you can taste them later. And you don't have to know now how else I was fucked, or by whom. We need to look to the future."

"Tomorrow you begin being Honey full time, and begin working for Pearl, and step into a whole new world. We have to get you ready. As her receptionist, you'll need to receive all kinds of clients for her. Let's just enjoy this delicious dinner you've brought in right now. All right?"

"And darling, tonight I want you to sleep with me. As a special treat, in my own bed. With your hands tied behind you, of course, because I want you to be thinking always about what you can't grasp for yourself, what you need me to do for you. I want you to feel helpless, the way you feel right now, and dependent on me. Don't worry, darling. I'll be smothering you in kisses all night. You're such a sweet angel! You're giving up everything for me, even some things you don't even know about yet. But I do. You'll understand soon. Just wait."

She held out a wine glass. "Here, dear. I'll leave your hands free for now, so if you want you can help yourself!"

I ate a few bites, and then cleaned up, and went upstairs with Bea, and prepared for bed, and slipped on a nightie, and then presented my wrists to her once again. She wrapped some kind of velcro band around them, nicer than the handcuffs, and I got into bed with my wife, and she comforted me. She told me how pretty I was, and caressed my breasts, and called me her darling girl, and her precious baby. I felt so very strange! I was no longer sure who I was, and when she gave me a pair of her cum-soaked panties, the jogger's she said, I sucked gratefully on them until I fell asleep. I remember thinking to myself that he tasted a little like Steve, but not a lot. She was sharing him with me. She was right. There was a whole new world out there.

 

Chapter Nine: Working Girl
(in which our heroine learns to whore for her employer)

 

"Wake up, curleytop! Time for you to fix us breakfast, and then to get dressed to go to work. Your face is already lovely, as always these days, though a little more eye shadow and mascara might be appropriate." Bea looked me over critically, then continued. "Oh, I'm so pleased you decided to get permanent makeup! Do you know yet which suit you'll wear? Remember, Pearl likes her women sexy but businesslike, so no blouse under your jacket. It should be an interesting day for you, dear, whatever you wear."

For a moment it seemed like old times, the two of us in bed together, except that Bea was uncommonly animated. In the old days, if she awoke ahead of me she'd just crawl out of bed and start her own day. Now I was expected to start her day for her.

"Hi!," I said. I felt a little like my old self. But instead of giving her a peck on the cheek, as was usual when she woke ahead of me in a good mood, I rolled over and asked, "Can you release my hands now?"

"Why of course dear!" she replied. "This morning you're a working girl. I'm certainly not willing to be cited for sexual harassment of a girl on the job."

"I'm not a girl," I muttered as I rubbed my wrists back to their usual comfort level, and looked at my long, beautifully finished nails, smooth and elegant with four coats of nail polish on them.

"Well, you lovely thing, you could have fooled me!"

I suppose she was right. I glanced in the mirror on my way to the bathroom, and there I was, my face as elegantly feminine as my nails, the red hair Celeste had given me tousled to match the bedroom look in my eyes, my lips pouting with that "fuck my mouth" look she and Bea thought so attractive. Well, I thought, Steve didn't mind my looking this way, not at all. So why should I? I took care of myself in the bathroom, shower, enema douche, tampon, the usual, and went down to start the coffee, thankful that my butt plug and training corset weren't on today's agenda. Bea came down in her peignoir, still reminiscing.

"Did I tell you I ran into Bob again at the hotel?" she asked. "Sunday morning. I barely had time to put on this very robe when he knocked on the door and came in, and told me how delighted he was to see my name on the guest register. Then in five minutes he had the gown off me and was into me. We had a wonderful, wonderful reunion. I was climbing all over him, just like that night when he was my birthday present from the girls. Do you remember how he tasted in me that first time? I've brought you a pair of my panties with his cum leaked into them, to remind you. But really, what I remember most about Bob isn't his taste, or even the size of his cock compared with your little thing. It's how he moves when he's inside you. It's mysterious, a sort of pulling back and yet at the same time plunging deeper, and terribly exciting. Look, I'm wet just thinking about it. I can't explain it. You'll just have to find out for yourself how it feels to have a man like that inside you."

I poured Bea the coffee I'd just made, and she warmed both hands on the cup. She was in a marvelous mood.

"Oh, Honey, you're wonderful!" she announced to me. "No other husband in the world would do what you're doing! You don't know how lovely it is that now I can talk about men with you, now that you're my very best girlfriend and we can talk about anything at all. It's like being a teenager all over again. And I haven't even given you a chance to tell me about Steve. Was he very hard on you, all that the obedience training I asked him to give you? You do need it, dear. And more. But if he was mean to you, did his lovemaking make up for it?"

"Bea," I said, "that's what I don't understand. He kept saying that you don't want me to be a man with you any more. But I'm still Henry, down underneath, and I will be again when this makeup wears off."

"Still Henry?" Bea said, the lilt in her voice a little subdued, her voice a little more serious. "With that voice? And those breasts? And that face? No, thank God, you're not. Don't even dream it, Honey dear. Henry doesn't live here any more. Steve's cock may have pushed into Henry's ass the night of my birthday party, but once it was buried there it performed magic. It turned Henry into Honey. Then when Steve's cock pulled out of her ass Honey took over the premises. Isn't that true? Was it Henry or Honey who spent this past weekend making love to Steve?"

"No, the only part of Henry I ever really loved is you, Honey. You were so buried in that pompous fool. it took me a whole year to find you inside him and bring you out into the open. Why in the world should you want to become Henry again? That boring excuse for a man! But now, just look at yourself! Gorgeous! I must say, I loved looking at you this morning before you woke up. My very own hubby turned into my very own luscious bimbo, and now getting ready for her first day as a working girl. I don't want to hear about Henry again. Which reminds me, you aren't wearing your training corset yet -- we'll need to go into your room to lace you into it. And did you insert your bigger butt plug this morning?"

"No, Bea, only a tampon!"

"Oh, my dear Honey! A tampon is for when you're having your periods! I'll tell you when. You need to wear your largest butt plug always, now that it fits you, unless I tell you to slip that big dildo into you instead for special occasions. You can never tell when you'll need to feel all stretched out and ready for anything. Now go upstairs and change, and get your training corset out, and I'll come up shortly to help you lace it up. I've already laid out your outfit for today."

"I'm sure Steve told you what I'm expecting from you. When you're a good girl, you'll find out how much I love you. When you're disobedient, you'll look back fondly to when Steve used only your vibrator to punish you. He was really just teasing you with it, but I won't be that soft-hearted. Now go upstairs and fix your hair." She stopped talking, and poured herself another cup of coffee. I had suddenly ceased to exist.

"Yes Bea," I said, got up, and went upstairs. I don't know if she even noticed. I remembered what Steve had said about lubrication, and was careful to use lots on the butt plug before inserting it. It slipped right in. Then with a few touches of the curling iron I fixed my hair back into piles of curls heaped up on each other. That style looked a little vulgar to me. All that curly elaboration seemed to be telling the world I'm willing to go to great lengths to look desirable and available, that I'm feminine and fuckable. But that's the hairdo Bea wanted for me, and that's what Celeste gave me. I slipped the corset over me, went over and put my hands on the stretching bar, and waited. Somehow, when I knew Bea was coming to help me, it didn't seem right just to sit and wait for her.

An hour later Bea was letting me out of the car on the block where Pearl had her offices. I was in a trim, close fitting lavender wool suit, with a jacket collar that plunged just past my bra, which peeked out from the deep V of my neckline. My skirt was just over calf length but slit up the back to way over the knees, the way Pearl wanted me to dress daily. She wanted me wearing minis only when I'd be used to close deals, whatever that meant. Bea had made me slather on tons of mascara and eye shadow! "You want to look mysterious, dear," she said. Then, on my permanently red lips she smeared a bright red lipstick with no subtlety whatever, glossy with gold flecks in it. As she dropped the tube in my purse she said "Use this often, Honey, every chance you get. Let men see you using it." When I protested it would stain anything it touched, she just smiled and said, "That's the point."

So there I was, dressed up like an office girl who was once a tramp, standing on the sidewalk, looking for the entrance to Pearl's building. Bea looked me over from behind the wheel, and of all things there was a sweet smile on her face.

"I feel as if I were sending my little girl off for her first day of school," she called to me. "You're going to learn so much. Be sure to tell me all about it when you get home. And don't do anything I wouldn't do!"

Finally I saw Pearl's office building entrance on the far corner, at the other end of the block! Bea had deliberately let me off a distance away, to force me to strut my stuff. I was a little annoyed, but there was no place to hide, so I started down the street primly, clutching my purse to my chest. Then as Bea pulled away she called to me "Hips, girl, hips! Swing 'em!" Well, unfortunately, the butt plug I had in me also told me I was being too tight-assed, and it began to rub. So I had to take Bea's advice. By the time I reached the corner my hips were undulating like a pendulum, working women striding past me were glaring straight ahead, and cars in the street alongside were scarcely moving.

The door to Pearl's office suite was already open when I arrived, and Pearl was at her desk in her inner office. She called out, "Well, Henry, there you are! Stay right there, don't move! Bea's told me what she's done to you during the past week or so, and what Steve's been doing. I want to see for myself."

So I stood right there by the receptionist's desk, my desk I realized, clutching my purse with both hands and looking wide-eyed at her when she came into the waiting area. I realized that I should try to make a good impression. Pearl was my new boss, after all!

"Oh, sweetheart, don't look so frightened!" Pearl said. She threw me one narrow-eyed glance. "You'll do just fine." She herself was dressed in a gray pinstripe with a skirt that ended below her knees, and next to her I felt like a cartoon slut. But she was all business, "I'm not going to bite you, dear. Not me, anyhow. Even though you do look good enough to eat. I will never understand how Bea did it. There was Henry, a middle-aged executive, a senior partner in an important firm in town, and now here's Henry, who has never liked me, ready to be my brainless bimbo, all dressed up to spend the day on his back or his knees if that's what's required. It's wonderful, really."

"We've had this conversation already, Pearl," I said. "Knock it off! And I'm Honey, not Henry."

Suddenly I realized that was the old Henry speaking, barely tolerating his wife's friend and letting it show. Honey would never have the nerve to speak to her boss that way. I felt a pang of fright. Instinctively I put my fingers to my lips, shocked, and my eyes grew even wider. I looked at Pearl apprehensively. "Oops!" I said. "Oh, dear! I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be rude. Please forgive me, Pearl. I mean, I don't even know what I should call you. And what is it you want me to do? I'm so terribly sorry! Really!"

That reflex apology shocked me even more than my insolence of a moment earlier. But for a different reason. I had thought until that moment that I was playing at being Honey for the pleasure it gave Steve and Bea, and because they seemed not to want to see Henry ever again. But deep down I knew I was really Henry. Until that moment. But with that sardonic crack to Pearl, Henry suddenly felt so far out of place, and out of line, that I unwittingly switched him off and apologized for him, frightened. I really was Honey blathering that apology, not Henry. I had to wonder where Henry had gone, and whether Bea was right that he was dead, my body haunted by his ghost only now and then.

But even worse. Honey was apologizing to Pearl, of all of Bea's friends the one Henry held in contempt. Honey wanted Pearl's approval! And Honey was finding her mindless desire to please Pearl a comfort, and was taking refuge in it. And I was Honey!

Pearl sensed some of this, and suppressed her amusement. "As much change on the inside as on the outside, I see. And in only two weeks! Well!"

Then suddenly she became all business. "I'm glad to see you know your place, Honey. Just keep Henry out of the office -- he's not welcome. Your job is whatever I say it is, understood? Call me Mrs. Peters, and nothing else during business hours. This is your desk. That's your filing cabinet, if you're ever asked to file anything. You'll find the folders are in alphabetical order, top drawer to bottom drawer. The alphabet's as much intellectual work as you'll need to understand. On your desk is a Rolodex with names, also in alphabetical order, with descriptions of each of my clients you'll find useful. I expect that the moment one walks in you will look him up and read the entry, even before you page me to tell me he's arrived. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Mrs Peters," I said. I still felt a little wide-eyed, a little terrified that I'd made a mistake the very first moment of my new job. Yet my new Boss didn't seem to mind. This time.

"Let me show you around and introduce you to the others. I share this office with three architects, named. oddly enough, Tom, Dick and Harry. Tom's father founded their business, and two ladies left over from his time are still working for the three of them. They're both way over fifty, and they do all the typing and filing. But if there's a work overload, you're expected to help out. I've arranged for Tom to try out your talents as a typist. You know how to work a word-processor?"

She saw my indignant look on my face. "Oh, of course, I forgot, Henry was a computer consultant. I really can't relate Henry's talents to yours, by the look of you now. Bea really must feel proud of what she's done with you! I doubt you appreciate it. But you will, dear, you will. In time!"

I didn't understand what she meant by that, but no matter. We stood in front of a door with the lettering 'Thomas Carrington' on it. After a short knock we entered. "Tom," Pearl said, "This is my new girl-of-all-trades, Honey. If you want to try her out, she is all yours now."

"Hello Honey, welcome to the chaos. You can see I'm not very tidy, and I hope you'll bring some sort of order into this mess. My ladies had too much work with a deadline during the past two weeks, and let things slip a little." Tom was a good-looking man in his mid-thirties and had the aura of a man in command.

"Yes, Mr. Carrington," I said, with as much wide-eyed sincerity as I could muster, "I'll be glad to help in any way I can."

"Let's do away with formalities," he said, looking me over with approval, I was glad to see. "Everybody here calls me Tom, and so should you."

"Thank you Tom. Do you have anything for me to do?"

"Yes, in fact I need to have this tape typed out," and he handed me a Dictaphone tape. "I want it back by lunch."

"I'll attend to it, if Mrs. Peters doesn't have other things for me to do."

"Even if I do," Pearl said. "We don't make our own schedules around here, do we Honey? We do what we're told, don't we. That's what Bea wants me to teach you, especially. So get used to it!"

Pearl steered me out, and we headed toward Dick McFadden and Harry Weingarten. There standing guard over their inner offices were their two elderly ladies, Nancy and Jane. They were as plain as their names suggested, but seemed to be lovable, motherly types.

"Hello," Nancy said. "I hear you're a man. Aren't you ashamed to be dressed like that, and to look like that?"

"Yes ma'am" I said truthfully. "A little. It's a kind of experiment. My wife wants it. She can get pretty determined, and in some ways I can't help doing whatever she wants. And in some ways I've found I enjoy looking and acting like this, if that's what she wants. There're advantages."

"Like getting laid by men?" Jane said. "Pearl told us about that. You can't have been much of a man, if that's what you enjoy now. It's probably just as well some woman's taken charge of you. Maybe you'll make a better woman. Of a certain kind, anyhow," she added, looking me over a little sternly.

Pearl continued with her tour of the office. "Over there's a coffee room, with a couch, and a carpet, and other useful amenities. Think of it as a private office, where you do some of your work when you're away from your desk. Look it over and get familiar with it. You'll find there's a lock on the door, and a key in your top desk drawer. Use it. There will be no embarrassing revelations while you're in there -- they're bad for business. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, ma'am," I said, though I didn't at all.

"Yes Mrs. Peters," Pearl snapped. "Didn't I just tell you it's Mrs. Peters and nothing else? You really are stupid, aren't you?"

She looked at me closely, and I was embarrassed to find I was blushing. This was really crazy! Who does Pearl think she is? But who do I think I am? I was confused, and tried to say "Yes, Mrs. Peters," but nothing came out.

"Well, Honey, I suppose you'll catch on soon enough. Do you think you can boil water?"

I nodded reassurance, too confused to resent the insult.

"Good! Put up a pot of coffee, and bring me a cup as soon as it's ready. Oh yes. You'll find your desk drawers have all the makeup and hairdo and manicure supplies you'll need during business hours. I'll expect you to be seen using them whenever you're at you're desk. Your job is to look as pretty as you can, what men in the construction trades think is pretty, and to look as if that's what you work at all day long. Have some kind of nail file ready to use if a customer should walk in unexpectedly. That red lipstick and a small mirror would be better still. The shade is perfect, incidentally. Bea's choice? Keep using it. I want to keep seeing that tube in your hand and your lips looking as if you meant to suck on it."

She turned to walk back into her inner office. "Bea's really done wonders with you, Honey. I hope you're grateful. I told her to dump you over a year ago, but she thought you were still usable, still worth keeping around for some things. She said she had her own reasons. Maybe she was right. We'll see. I want that coffee in five minutes!"

And she was gone. I went to the desk and set down my purse, and got the key, and opened the coffee room. It was practically a living room, though windowless. Over the couch was a portrait of a reclining nude woman, a Titian or Goya or somebody. There was also an easy chair, and over by the far wall, under a huge framed painting of Marilyn Monroe, a bar with a coffee maker and a small sink. I started the coffee going immediately. Exactly five minutes later I brought a cup of it in to Pearl, and she took it without bothering to look up from some papers she was reading.

I then sat down at the computer, and typed up Tom's tape in under an hour. I brought the typescripts over to him, and saw he was engaged in a screaming match with one of his contractors. He waved to leave the file on his desk and get out.

Five minutes later I heard him scream through the door. "Honey, get in here! Where are the copies?" When I got in, he started screaming at me for something I hadn't done, obviously, but I didn't understand what he meant. "Alright, I should have know by the way you look, you are just another dumb Bimbo. Now get out of here! I'll have to do everything myself -- as usual! GET OUT!"

I was close to tears as I left his office, but Jane consoled me. "It's just a matter of stress. He's had too much during the last week. He didn't tell you he wanted copies. He'll probably apologize in five minutes. Just go back to your desk, dear."

I did, and occupied myself with Pearl's filing system. Jane was right. About five minutes later my phone rang and Tom asked me to come in. When I entered his office, he was standing there. "I want to apologize, Honey, please have a seat."

He motioned me to the leather couch, and when I sat down he sat down next to me.

"Jane has already told you, we've had a lot of stress in the last few weeks. The contractors are falling behind and the developer is holding back money and threatening fines. I know, you weren't at fault. You did a good job actually. Please forgive me."

I smiled at him as he took my hands, kissing both of them lightly.

"You know," he continued, "It isn't only the stress here. My wife of ten years left me with the kids just last week. I feel totally destroyed. And then you walked in, and -- I don't exactly know what, your walk, your smile -- you somehow reminded me of her. Maybe I wanted to punish her through you."

With that he actually started to cry. He buried his head in my shoulder, sobbing, and then slid down to my breasts. I didn't know what to do, I didn't know this man, and now I had to console him. I'd never consoled any man. I patted his head, and told him everything would come out fine, and stuff like that.

He finally recovered his composure somewhat. "You understand me, don't you? I'm sorry. Let's make up with a kiss."

Is this what it means to be an office girl, I wondered? He held me close and before I knew it, he had pressed his mouth on my lips and entered me with his tongue. I don't know why exactly, maybe I felt sorry for him, but I didn't push him away. I thought of Steve and found I was kissing him back, and licking his tongue with mine! We kept at it for several minutes, and then he took my hand and put it on his crotch. I felt a really big hard-on. He let go my hand, but never stopped kissing me, and pulled down his zipper and took out his cock, and placed my hand on it.

"Please," he said, "do me. I haven't had it for so long and I need it -- and you are so beautiful. Please." He pressed me down off the couch and onto my knees between his legs, holding my head just a few inches from his cock. "Please, I beg you, Please."

The next thing I knew I had his cock in my mouth, sucking him as best as I could. It felt different from Steve's, shorter and fatter, and I wondered if in some way I was being unfaithful to Steve, or to Bea, or to somebody. But Tom was moaning in bliss. It didn't take two minutes until he came in my mouth.

When I had drained him of every drop of his cum, licked him clean, and replaced his cock in his trousers, I felt a little embarrassed. Henry would have been mortified. But Honey didn't know how to act in such circumstances either.

He got up and put his arms around me. "Thank you," he said kind of solemnly. "That was the nicest thing anybody has done for me for a year. Thank you my dear. But it's best now if you just let me alone." He guided me to his door, gave me a little kiss on the cheek, and let me out.

To say I was perturbed when I walked back to my desk would have been an understatement. I was all shook up by what had happened. I hardly knew the man, who was kind of also my boss, and I had succumbed to his wishes and sucked him off on my first day at work as Honey. I had intended to be a proper office-girl, cheerful and helpful, to see what it was like, mostly because Bea wanted me to have the experience, and wanted me to have something to do now that I couldn't go back to work in my own office soon. But now! How could I let myself go so quickly? Why did I do it? I should have been appalled even the suggestion, but instead, I had gone right along with the suggestion. After all the time I had spent learning to do everything Steve wanted, it seemed somehow ... familiar and easy to do what Tom wanted. To be quite honest, I even had enjoyed making him moan and squirm when he came. What had come over me? What would Bea think when I told her?

The rest of my day was uneventful, except that Dick and Harry seemed to want to loiter in the coffee room. At least they went there quite often, passing my desk with encouraging smiles as they came and went.

That night, I told Bea what had happened with some trepidation. But she seemed scarcely interested. "Well, dear, that's the kind of thing working girls always have to put up with. And you're a working girl now, isn't that so? I'm glad to hear you're having the full experience. There's no harm done, if you enjoyed it too." I was amazed that this was her only comment.

The next morning Harry called me to his office, and I found Dick there with him. "We want you to understand that we are Equal Opportunity Employers," Harry began. I was a little confused, because I didn't see what that had to do with me. But Harry then explained himself. "We think that all of us here at the office should have equal opportunities, and we heard that you gave Tom a blow job yesterday. We think you should give us the same opportunities. Don't you agree, Dick?"

"Of course -- and if I may make a suggestion, perhaps on a regular basis, like every morning, when you bring us each our morning coffee."

"A very good Idea, Dick," said Harry. "I'm sure Tom will agree to this arrangement. Let's set up a schedule. Whoever comes in first, gets served first, and then we continue in order of arrival. If two of us arrive at the same time, the older one gets blown first. I think this can be a great incentive for us to come in early. Honey, you'll be doing the firm a great service."

I was flabbergasted. Who were they to even suggest such a thing? Such gall! "But I mean ... I cannot ... This is not what I am here for ... I mean ...."

"Of course you aren't here only for the cocksucking, Honey. But it's a nice fringe benefit, for all of us", Dick said in even tones. "And you can't deny to the other partners what you've already given to one. We all have the same rights here. We can't make an exception just for you."

"But I was just trying to be nice to Tom, to relieve him from his stress and make him feel comfortable. I mean it was a special situation and all ...."

"We are all in the same situation every morning," Harry ventured. "We all have our marital problems, we're all stressed the same way as Tom, so what's special about him? Did you like his dick that much? Wait'll you taste mine! And Dick's dick has never had any complaints, he tells me! He's proud of its name! Let's settle this right now."

With that he opened his trousers and took out his half erect cock, and I must say, even in this state it looked impressive. He took me by the shoulders. Dick moved behind me and nudged the backs of my knees, which folded. I would have fallen, but Harry steadied me, and I found myself kneeling in front of him with his cock in line with my mouth.

"Oh no!" But my next words were already muffled by his cockhead wedged between my lips. Holding tightly onto my head, he began fucking my face. I felt his cock growing, and somehow the situation caught on, and against my will I started getting aroused too. It was all so strange. I embraced his thighs and pulled him toward me, and slid my head back and forth, and sucked him as if my life depended on it. It was over soon, as he shot his hot load into my throat.

"You really are a great talent -- Tom was quite right. Now it's Dick's turn." He stepped away from me, and before I had swallowed all of his cum, I had my mouth filled with Dick's cock. Dick's was a little smaller, but had a huge, bulbous head, very sensitive I soon found out, maybe because he wasn't circumcised. He came as quickly as Harry, though I had the impression he had tried to hold back.

"Now that wasn't too bad, was it?" Harry asked as he helped me up again. I didn't know what to say, my feelings were all churned and confused. In a way it wasn't bad at all. I even liked it. But on the other hand, I felt shouldn't have done it at all. Only sluts and whores and loose women suck off different men each day. And I was married!

"Honey, don't think the worse of yourself. What you did was very natural, and if I judge your reaction, you enjoyed it too. So actually, we all enjoyed it. And there's no reason we shouldn't enjoy ourselves. What's that old saying, 'carpe diem,' seize the day? Life is too short to deny yourself enjoyable things. Now go back to your desk, have a cup of coffee, and we'll see you tomorrow morning." Just as Tom had done, both kissed me lightly on my cheeks and sent me out.

Well, what can I say? It did become a habit. Again I told Bea, while she was reading a magazine, and all she said was, "That's nice. I'm so happy for you!" And then she returned to her magazine.

Each morning I sucked off all three of them, and after a while I even began looking forward to it. Some of it was my pleasure in the feeling of control I had over them while I was driving them half out of their minds. Some of it was in the pleasure I felt, being a woman submissive to a man's desires. Henry would have been disgusted and outraged, but Henry seemed to be in hiding. So it was Honey who asked Bea how she should feel.

Bea eased my feelings of guilt. "It's nothing to be ashamed of, really, if they're nice men, and whatever they're asking isn't revolting to you. Exactly what do you feel guilty about? It's consensual, and exciting, and millions of women do it every day. It's quite natural. Nobody really forced you. You've told me that you like doing it. So go ahead and do it. It will broaden your experience with men. Each day, try to improve your cocksucking techniques. Try different sucks and licks with each of them. The knowledge may come in handy some time. You never know."

I thought about it. With Tom, Dick, and Harry, sex was a fun game. With Steve it was like being in love, there was so much feeling and understanding involved. Steve always knew exactly how I felt, and cared, and sometimes it seemed that he felt the same way. With Tom, Dick and Harry my sexual services were just good clean fun we all enjoyed without any complications, with no romantic feelings at all. We even joked about it sometimes. It was a new experience for me to have that kind of relationship with men. I wondered if they know I wasn't a real girl. Their two older secretaries knew, of course, but maybe they'd never said anything to their bosses. Maybe they were too embarrassed. I asked Pearl never to reveal what I really was, and she didn't. Maybe some kind of female conspiracy kept the women too amused to tell them.

On the other hand I made sure that our sex was strictly oral sex. I told them I wanted to save the rest for my boyfriend, and they respected me for that.

Monday of the second week Bea told me to wear a suit with an extremely short skirt. It barely covered my ass. "I hear Pearl has some quite important assignments for you today," she said. I wasn't even allowed to put on panty-hose.

After I had seen and sucked Tom, Dick and Harry as usual, Pearl called me into her office. "OK, Honey," she said. "You've passed your first week's test. Your work today will be a little different. Last week you were getting acquainted with everybody, and I hear you've made quite a hit with the boys. This week you'll have some new responsibilities. Now here's what."

She held out a thick sheaf of legal papers, then slipped them into a folder and set them on her desk in front of me. "These contracts need to be signed, by a tough son-of-a-bitch named Mahoney who wants every advantage he can get. Let's see if you can earn this week's salary right now. He's in his office a block away. These papers are what he's agreed to. He's going to say he was promised more, and that it should cost him less. Get him to sign anyhow. This is very important. And make sure to bring back the check due upon his signature. That son-of-a-bitch has strung me along for so long, I'm furious with him. And I need the cash flow. If I went to see him myself, I'm sure I would kill the bastard when he came up with more of his usual shit. Don't come back without the check. If you don't get it, you may as well go home, because you're fired, whatever I promised Bea. This is business! You understand me?"

I didn't, really. Receptionists don't negotiate contracts. But "Yes, Mrs. Peters," is all I said.

"Good. And be back in an hour at the latest. You'll be needed by then. Oh, and don't wear that suit jacket closed. I want everyone to see how those tits of yours bounce when you walk."

Well, everyone did see them. By the time I reached Mahoney's office there stretched behind me a street full of grinning men, and of women who either looked grim or else smiled encouragingly. And I was embarrassed. Partly because I was dressed like a slut when in fact I was a good girl. Partly because I wasn't a girl at all but a man whose wife had him living like a girl, and looking like one. But partly because in all these months, with all the women's clothes I had been wearing at Bea's request, I still felt a little uneasy when I was out in public alone, dressed as a girl as if by my own choice. Here I was, with no one coaching me, being Honey. Was I?

"Yeah, you're Honey all right," Mahoney said, after I knocked timidly on his office door and he let me in. "C'mon in. There's no one else here yet." He led me into his inner office and sat down behind his desk, legs apart, just looking at me. There on his desk was one of the pictures of me Bea had taken before she went off to her hotel. A very sexy pose too, wearing that dress with my tits all naked. I felt a little embarrassed. Bea must have given it to Pearl, and Pearl must have given it to Mahoney. And to other customers and clients? I wished she hadn't.

"You're wasting your time, Honey," Mahoney said. Then why did I think he was opening a negotiation, not closing one off? "Is that the contract you're carrying? I won't sign. I told your boss I want additional compensation to sign."

"What kind of compensation?" I asked. I realized this was Henry speaking. This conversation was bringing Henry back again. Henry had negotiated lots of contracts.

"I like to feel good about reaching an agreement," Mahoney said. "I don't feel good yet. Maybe I should be talking to your competition."

Henry sensed where this conversation was going, and went back wherever he had come from. Honey returned. "What would make you feel good, Mr. Mahoney," I asked him. It was as if the lines were scripted.

"Well, looking at those tits of yours waving like flags is making me feel good, for openers."

There was nothing else I could do. I had to ask the next question. My job depended on it. "Would you like to look at them more closely, Mr. Mahoney? Would that help you feel good?" I started to unbutton my jacket further.

Mahoney just sat there watching. I freed them altogether, put the jacket and my bra on his desk, sat down in the chair alongside his desk, and pushed them out in his direction. Mahoney stared at my swollen breasts and naked nipples without a word. "Would it feel good for you to suck on them, Mr. Mahoney?" I asked. I stood up, straddled his lap facing him, sat down, and thrust a nipple into his mouth. He immediately began sucking on me like a starved infant, and I felt a familiar delicious sensation rise up inside me. I wrapped both my arms around his head. "More," I said, and to my own surprise I meant it. I began to breath heavily. He pulled harder on me, and then lunged at my other breast and sucked on that for a while. I felt something prodding at me down below, at my crotch.

I realized the obvious. To get this contract signed, I was letting a man I had never seen before use my body. It was embarrassing. It was one thing to give Pearl's office associates certain services. But now I was being Pearl's company whore. Did Pearl expect this when she sent me here? Probably. But she hadn't told me I had to do this. I had just decided to do this. Did I have a choice? Mahoney's mouth on my nipples was working me up so I even had trouble remembering why I was here.

"Mr. Mahoney," I said. "The papers are all on your desk. They need your signature in two places marked ... (he began to tongue me) ... in red. Now you sign in two places right now, one for each breast. Then I assure you, you will be so eager to sign the check due upon signature I won't be able to stop you. That's how it will be for you. It'll feel just like having an orgasm! I guarantee it."

My boob held firmly into his mouth, Mahoney reached around me and scrawled something next to two of the red marks. Gently I disengaged his mouth, knelt between his legs, undid his zipper, and watched his cock spring up out of his pants. Average size, I took due note, a little bigger than mine, quite a bit smaller than Steve's, a minor variation on Tom's, or Dick's or Harry's. No problem! I took his purple cock head into my mouth and squeezed my lips onto it a few times. He groaned. I saw pre-cum begin to leak from his pee hole, and tongued it. He squealed a little. I realized why Bea and Pearl had wanted me to use that cheap lipstick, and why the three architects always asked me to wipe my mouth before mouthing them. Already his prick had red rings smeared on it, little memorials of my services to him. I plunged my head all the way down his shaft, and when I could feel my lips touching the hair right next to his balls, I imprinted my trade mark again as hard as I could. I wondered if he would have to explain these hieroglyphics to someone else.

As I licked his shaft, I realized that this was already the seventh prick I had had in my mouth, Steve's being the first, then Stu and Fred briefly, and of course Tom, Dick and Harry's. But Steve cared for me, whatever else, and I cared for him. It was like love. With those guys at the singles bar it was just something you do on a date. With the partners it was fun, and we kidded each other a lot about it. But not this. I couldn't help thinking, as I ran my tongue and then my rounded lips up and down the veins on Mahoney's penis, that now I was just a hired cocksucker. A cocksucker for Pearl, a woman I did not respect. No, I thought, as I took Mahoney deeper into my throat, a cocksucker for Bea. Bea wants me to suck cocks. Why? Bea wants me to be a woman. I sucked him all the way down with all my might.

Mahoney groaned aloud, and I knew he was close. His hips began trying to fuck my mouth. This would never do.

"Just wait," I said, and I stood up. Mahoney moaned his disappointment, but I turned around with my back to him, slipped down my panties and pulled my butt plug, stood between his legs, and lowered my asshole onto his moist, stiff, prick. When I felt its tip touch my anal opening, and he was clutching my breasts one in each hand, and he was trying to thrust himself into me, I said, "Mahoney, the signature on the check!" Mahoney whimpered, let go a breast and grabbed the pen, pulled out a check-book and filled out the check, signed it, and then pushed into me with all his might as I lowered myself into him, then lifted up, then lowered again. He cried out, "Ayeeee!" and lifted his whole pelvis way up then down, nearly slithering out of me. Then I sat down hard on him, his prick deep inside, and he couldn't move. His prick throbbed, and as my buttocks held him rigid I could feel him pump hot cum into my bowels, spurting again and again. "Oh? Oh? Oh?" he asked, then "Ah! Ah! Ah!" he answered. Then his head collapsed and his hands fell slack onto my thighs.

I stood up, slipped a tampon into me to blot his fluids, pulled up my panties, gathered up the papers on his desk, making sure the check was filled out and signed correctly, and felt his hands pat my rear end with a kind of farewell familiarity. "You were right, Honey," he croaked, his throat still tense. "Best piece of ass in a long time. Tell Pearl thanks. She was right."

No question of it. Now I was Pearl's company whore. Pearl had set me up to do this, and I had gone along with it. Certainly Bea had known things like this were going to happen, and had wanted me to have the experience. Maybe I should feel good about it. Now seven men had used my body. But somehow this time I felt cheap. Demeaned. Slutty. "I'll call you, Honey baby," Mahoney said, as I re-attached my brassiere and slipped into my jacket. "That was the first asshole I've been in since high school. You ever want to leave Pearl and work for me, you let me know."

I returned to Pearl's office without a word, and dropped the papers on her desk. She first looked for Mahoney's scrawls, then for the check, and then looked up at me with a huge grin. "Well, Henry, you keep surprising me! You did it after all! Real company loyalty after only a week. Bea was right about you -- you are exactly the right girl for this job! I hope you got something out of it too, though Mahoney is usually all get and no give. You'd better fix your hair. And smear on more lipstick. Last week was last week. This week I'll need you to perform personal services like these fairly often. In fact, your next appointment is due in shortly."

As I turned to leave, she wasn't done. "It's a good thing Kay has you on birth control hormones, dearie, or you'd be knocked up by the end of the week. If it's any comfort to you, this is a big contract. You didn't sell yourself cheap." I headed down to the women's wash room, and I heard Pearl add gloating, "Except to me!"

I settled down at my desk, took out a nail file, fixed my lipstick, and waited. Nothing happened. So I started opening my desk drawers where there were fixings enough to equip an entire beauty salon, even hair rollers, though who would wear them during business hours stopped me. As I already knew, Pearl's receptionist's chief duty was to look beautiful. Correction, to be seen making herself look beautiful.

At 10:00am precisely the door opened and a large jovial man entered, saw me, smiled broadly, and strode toward me.

"How do you do?" he said. "You must be Honey! You sure are a honey! You look a lot better than that picture Pearl sent me!"

"Who shall I say is calling?" I asked him.

"Bollen. Bill Bollen. Old 'Bats and Balls' Bill to my friends, 'cause I've got 'em. Oh, boy, I'm gonna love this!" He kept looking at me, and he seemed to be reaching for me but then holding back.

I buzzed Pearl. "Mrs. Peters, there's a Mr. Bollen to see you," I said.

Pearl was furious, and this time I was really shocked by her response. "Not 'a' Mr. Bollen, you stupid idiot," she said into the phone. "'Bill Bollen!' Any client of mine is an intimate friend, do you understand me? And very welcome! Twit! Send him in in fifteen minutes, and meanwhile you get to be his intimate friend! Fast! You know how."

Another mistake! Again, I felt frightened! I didn't even know enough to hold down a job as a receptionist? I gathered up all the reserve I had left, and I said to the cheerful man in front of me, as coolly as I could, "Mrs. Peters will see you shortly, Mr. Bollen. But can I get you anything while you're waiting? Coffee?"

"You bet, Honey!" Pearl's client said. "I see the coffee room's already open. I'll wait for you in there." And in he went.

Now I really did have a problem. The man seemed to want coffee, but it didn't sound like it, exactly. Suddenly I remembered Pearl had told me to read the Rolodex entry the moment any client walked in. Yet another mistake! I felt sick as I looked up "Bollen, William," and found him almost immediately.

There were his business and his home addresses, the dates of previous contracts, the dates of previous visits, and at the bottom of the card I saw a peculiar code notation, "fa.fu., as.fu"

This was beyond comprehension. A credit rating? It occurred me to try to decode the note by looking at other notations, and gradually everything came clear. They were the notes a call girl might make to remind herself about her clients. "St.Fu" was a straight fuck. "Bl.Jo" was a blow job. "Li.Cu" stopped me for a moment, but and as I flipped other cards and saw it again, I realized it was "Lick Cunt." Not mine, anyhow, I thought, but then I noticed that notation was also on cards with women's names. Bollen's preferred method of passing time in the waiting room was "face fuck," and "ass fuck." My specialties. I was feeling intimidated. Was I ready to whore for Pearl on a regular basis?

When I walked into the coffee room, he was already seated on the couch, his fly unzipped. I went to the coffee pot, but realized no one was drinking any, and then went over to Pearl's client. Either do it or get fired, I realized, and who knew what Bea would do if that happened? I closed the door and turned toward him.

"So, Bill," I said with a forced smile he never looked up to notice, "What'll it be?"

"Just get down on me, cuntface!" he said hoarsely. "Thatta girl!" I knelt between a man's legs for the fifth time that morning, and suddenly his knees clamped shut on my ears. Then his hips started pumping his cock into my mouth, repeatedly, even before I remembered to cover my teeth with rounded lips. No matter. In ten or fifteen quick strokes he was pumping hot semen down my throat, and I was swallowing it as fast as I could. I tried to cry out "Oh, God!" but all that came out was a gurgle.

"Oh, yeah, I hear you, baby! I know! You love it!" Bill said. He pumped some more and grew hard again, and I pulled and sucked and swallowed him again. Eventually his hips relaxed and he sat back into the cushions, and I could lift my mouth off him. I remembered to look into his eyes with a grateful smile on my face. Again, I left circles up and down his pecker, evidence that I'd done what I'd done, I guessed so Pearl could call attention to it if her negotiations should reach an impasse.

There wasn't time for more. I licked Bill clean, kissed the tip of his pecker as if it were a national treasure, and zipped him back up. I stood up and led him to Pearl's office, and held the door open for him. "Pearl, baby!" he said.

"Hi, Bill," Pearl said. "Thank you, Honey. You happy with my new receptionist, Bill?"

I said nothing. I could still taste his cum, lightly salty, not as creamy as Steve's, less like egg white than any of the partners'. Nothing special. "You bet, Pearl," Bill said. "She's got a real good head on her shoulders!"

"That's what she's for," Pearl said. "Now, here are the project modifications. Initial them and we're done, and you can get better acquainted with Honey on your way out."

"You got it!" Bill said. I barely had time to get back to the coffee room when Bill was back, this time groping my tits from behind. I had the presence of mind to close the door, then to lie face down over an arm of the couch, my rear end high in the air. Mahoney's cum still lubricated my ass. Bollen crammed his re-stiffened dick inside and with a dozen thrusts he finished himself off. He had masturbated himself in my ass, I realized, as if I were warm meat -- I myself felt nothing. I blotted up his semen by stuffing some Kleenex between my cheeks, led him back to the reception area, handed him some tissues, and seated myself behind my desk.

"It's been good, Bill," I said. "Please come again whenever you can."

"Oh, yeah!" he said. "What time do you finish work?"

"Whenever Mrs. Peters says, Bill. It's up to her."

"I'll give you a call some time," Bill said, his mind already elsewhere. And he was gone.

I wasted no time checking Pearl's next appointment. An "as. li." was due in at 3:00pm, and a su.co. an hour later. I wondered whose "as." would get licked, his or mine.

It turned out to be hers, and her cu. also, by special request. The lady was thin, high-cheek-boned, very much a lady as she came into the office, but she too knew Pearl's routines. I went into the coffee room to get her a cup of coffee, black. She followed me in, closed the door, sat down, spread her legs, and looked directly at me without a word. I felt peculiar, and without even thinking I fell to my knees and buried my face between her legs. I stroked and licked her slit until she came, rather quietly and elegantly, raising her pelvis into my mouth as if it were on a tray and making small mewing sounds. When her hips stopped bucking, I pulled my soaked face out of her crotch. There was Pearl standing in the doorway, amused to watch me at work.

"You know, Penny," Pearl said to her, "you might want to train your husband to take care of his clients like this too. Honey here's on loan to me from his wife Bea. She wants him to experience completely what it is to be a woman."

"Really!" Penny replied, looking at me with renewed interest. "His wife? She's really done a marvelous job with er ... Honey. I'd never guess!. But I'll leave my husband just the way he is, thanks. He's lecherous and buries his big cock all over town, but I still get first crack at it. I don't suppose Honey's cock was ever much use, or his wife wouldn't have thought this up for him. His tongue shows promise, though. He'll make a fine lesbian."

"No," said Pearl, "I doubt it. He fell in love with the man his wife brought in to break his cherry. I think Honey here is a straight arrow."

"A pity," Penny said. "Well, shall we get to work?" And off they went, leaving me on my knees with my face still wet. After a while I stood and cleaned myself up, then went to my desk, and put on my makeup all over again. Even my mascara had smeared.

I felt sad, a little. I'd started looking like a woman because Bea needed to be cheered up. Now these two women were discussing my sexuality as if I were theirs to use or forget. I was Pearl's corporation prostitute, all right. Why did Bea want this for me? Because she thought I'd enjoy it?

The appointment marked "co.su" came in, and I sucked his cock. It meant nothing to me. I consoled myself that sex for me is a personal thing, that I need to feel loved before I can feel excited, and that I could cherish my sessions with Steve, or with Bea, because I felt for them and they cared for me. We respected each other. I liked the partners -- they respected me, and always tried to amuse me. But these people just used me. Strangely enough, by the end of the day I didn't feel dirty. Just used.

That first day of what Pearl had called my 'new responsibilities' Pearl locked up the office and drove me home without a word. Maybe even she realized she might have gone too far, mocking me for cooperating with her so effectively. Then, as I got out of her car she said, "Tell Bea that tomorrow's a calf-length skirt day again. Only a few conferences scheduled, and no closings. We may have overdone it, today, a little. Tomorrow you'll have a little time to do your nails and hair, and let your asshole drain and dry out. Maybe even to file some papers. Wednesday things'll pick up some, but there's nothing much more happening until Friday, maybe not until next week. Of course I'll want you to come in as usual, busy or not, to give our new customers a look at the services we offer them. I borrowed those pictures Bea took of you before last weekend, as you know, and gave out a few, and I put one into our company newsletter. Maybe they'll rustle up some new trade."

"Good night, Honey. You could have been a little more enthusiastic this afternoon, but I didn't hear any complaints from my customers, so I don't have any. Maybe you aren't the sex-crazed slut I thought you were. Maybe you're just like the rest of us so-called good girls, a dedicated whore only when people pay you off with love and affection."

When I got in, Bea called from her study to ask how things went, and I went in and told her, client for client, word for word. She listened carefully, nearly expressionless, and then took me upstairs to unlace my corset and let me get into something more comfortable, a plain skirt and sweater. She suggested I douche before coming down for dinner. While she was behind me untieing my corset laces she reached around and gently pulled on my cock with one hand until I came into a Kleenex she held in her other. It was the nicest thing that had happened to me all day. So thoughtful! That night she gave me another pair of her sex-weekend panties specially saved for me, with cum in them from her very twat, and I sucked on them as she requested. But my heart wasn't in it.

The next few days were easier, as Pearl promised. Working for 'Mrs. Peters,' pursing my mouth and lifting my ass for her clients when asked, refreshing my lipstick when anyone was watching, became so routine I stopped paying attention to the faces, just to the occasional cock I found thrust under my nose or my rump. They were each a little different. Each night, Bea gave me another pair of her cum-soaked panties from her weekend, to suck on during the night like a baby being fed a bed-time bottle. She asked me to notice how each man's cum tastes a little different. But I was getting to know that already. Originally she had wanted me to develop a taste for men by tasting a lot of them, so I'd be as enthusiastic about having sex with them as she claimed to be. But what we both learned from my encounters with Bea's underpants and Pearl's clients was that for me, sex wasn't enough. As Pearl had told me in her usual insulting way, for my heart to become a whore, the price was love and affection.

On Thursday night Bea said she had a special treat for me. When I was already in bed she came into my room and sat down next to me, then took the laciest and most elaborate panties I had ever seen out from a special plastic case that had kept them moist, she said, since the Saturday at the hotel. They had a strong smell, several different smells, really, not really unpleasant. But they had been drenched! Those panties were nearly as stiff as if they had been dipped in cum over and over, the way candles are dipped to build up the wax coating. I asked Bea how many men's cum had soaked into them.

Bea replied with pride and delight, "Just one, dear! Only one man did all this to my panties, in only one single night! A marvelous man! The finest man I've ever known! The one I mentioned to you Sunday night, remember, a Master Dominator who came to the hotel with a fully trained sex-slave, named Eva? I spent all of Saturday night with him, with my little apprentice slave Eddie. His name is Thor. Anything he wanted done, Eva did. Anything! You'd be amazed! And then anything I wanted him to do to me, he did! Quite a few times, some things, when I asked him! I was amazed! All that cum!" She stopped speaking for a moment, overcome by some fleeting memory. "Then by morning," she said suddenly. "Anything he wanted me to do for him, I did. Anything! It was so wonderful!" And then she was silent some more.

I had never seen Bea like this. "Are you all right?" I asked her.

"Oh, yes," she said. She turned to me with half-closed eyes. "Oh yes, dear! Here, Honey, take these panties. I want you to love them the way I do. Pay close attention to all the flavors you find here, spicy, salty, flowery, all of them. Some are what leaked out of my cunt. Some is cum from my rear end. Some of it I wiped off my face and breasts after Thor had finished using them. Some of it I saved in my mouth instead of swallowing it, so you could be sure to taste him too! I want you to know everything you can about Thor's cum, and about the way his cum mixes with my juices. I want you to share my pleasure, and to look forward to it the way I do. I think you'll be tasting a lot more of him from now on, Honey. But we'll talk about that another time."

"I really don't need this, Bea," I said. I must have been feeling a little jealous. "You know that tomorrow, Pearl has a busy schedule. I'm going to have my hands and my mouth full. And my asshole too, I suspect."

"Yes dear, I appreciate that you're a very hard-working girl now, trying to do your best for your employer. But this cum is different. For my sake? Begin by kissing it, and then see where it leads you." And she leaned over and kissed me.

"All right, Bea. For your sake." And with that I took the lace panties and started to kiss them, then suck on them, paying close attention. First the crotch, then the back panels. I was still exploring subtle differences in the scents and tastes here and there, the sticky parts of the cum and the parts that had dried on her smooth, ribboned satin, when I fell asleep. When I woke up, I found that Bea had come in and gently draped the panties over my sleeping face, with the elastic behind my head, so I could breath through them all night.

Friday was more arduous than I had imagined. We ran almost two hours overtime, and when the last client left, smiling, or smirking, or grinning, waving goodbye to Pearl and waving little obscene gestures to me, I was exhausted. My asshole hurt terribly, and I hated to push my butt plug back into it, but I had to, or else come home with the back of my skirt soaked. My mouth was sore, and my jaw ached. Both my hands were cramped from squeezing or jerking people off while sucking on them. At one point I had taken on three corporate partners all at once, because they had gotten drunk at lunch, and then insisted that they share equally in all of the company's dividends.

"Honey, would you come in here a minute, please, dear," Pearl called from her office.

Reluctantly I got up and limped to her door. "Yes, Mrs. Peters?" I said wearily.

"You did some good work for me today, Honey, and I want you to know how much I appreciate it. Here!"

To my astonishment, Pearl slouched way back in her chair, no panties, her legs spread apart, her bush and her slit fully visible. I could even see her clit, erect and poking out of the little folds of skin that normally covered it. I just stared.

"Honey, I said 'Here'! 'Here' means 'here,' right now! Don't tell me you didn't hear me. Today was a good day! I want you to drink a toast to me! Out of me! On your knees, lover girl! Let's see what that tongue of yours has been up to all week, that so many people have been coming in here and signing contracts without even reading them!"

"Pearl, I don't think...."

"Mrs. Peters during office hours, I told you!" Pearl's voice suddenly picked up an edge. "Now Honey, I asked you to do something for me!"

So I went over to her, and I dropped to my knees once again, and buried my face in her snatch, and licked her, and stroked her with my tongue. When my tongue got too tired to move or poke with, I used my nose. Pearl got more and more heated, and started to tremble, and finally she clamped her thighs tightly around my head and began to buck into my face. I was almost knocked off my knees, but I hung on until finally she released me, and I fell to the floor for a moment. Then I stood up and turned, without a word, and began to limp toward the door.

"Honey, I didn't dismiss you yet," Pearl said. "Turn and face me! Look at me!"

I turned and faced her. She was appraising me like a piece of meat.

"That was very good, Honey," she said, in the lightly sarcastic tone that passes for friendliness with Pearl. "You're a real asset to this firm! From now on you'll mop up my cunt last thing every day, as an additional duty, just as you suck off the boys in the morning. Do it with real devotion, and I'll see you get a bonus when you leave my employ. You've got talent, there's no doubt of it. You're like some virtuoso playing a concert between my legs. You feel just great!"

"But there's another reason I want a daily suck from you, and I want you to know it. It's this. Whatever you look like, I know you're a man. Just like my ex, that son of a bitch. Now, I love having a man on his knees in front of me, lapping away on my cunt. It gives me something I can anticipate all day. If you're real good, maybe I'll install you under my desk full time, and get some other whore to take over your other duties."

I didn't want any more trouble. I was out of energy. So all I said was, "Yes, Mrs. Peters. But you'll have to take it up with Bea."

When I finally got home, I told Bea about my day as always, leaving out nothing, and then went upstairs to soak my rear in the tub. Bea came with me, and sprinkled perfumed bubble beads into the hot water, then left me alone and went downstairs. I heard her talking on the phone, and at one point she raised her voice, not angrily, but firmly. Then her voice lowered again, and by the end she was chatting and laughing in her usual friendly way. When she hung up, she came back upstairs and into the bathroom, and sat down on the stool by the sink.

"Honey," she said. "I've just had a long talk with Pearl. You've understood it, I know, that I want you to have lots of sexual experiences with men, to get you used to being a woman, and you can have all the woman-to-woman sex you want too, for the same reason. But just remember, your prick is mine. Any man-to-woman sex you may want, or be asked to perform, is to be with me only, unless I tell you otherwise. If Pearl should ask you to diddle one of her women clients, or herself, find some way to do it without your cock. Remember what I told you when you started working, don't do anything I wouldn't do? Just be sure you don't. Right?"

I just looked at her. I was too tired and sore to respond.

"I just made sure Pearl knows this too, so there's no mistake. She tells me you have a prize-winning tongue. That makes me feel very proud of you. I've always thought so, though I can't say you were ever generous with it before now. When you've finished soaking, put on something tasteful, not another daytime tart outfit, and we'll go out to celebrate your first two weeks spent as a working-girl all by yourself. My treat!"

That cheered me up, some. I had the prettiest little shawl collar dress I was dying to wear, but it was too conservative for Honey. I told Bea, and she smiled. "Then tonight my darling, don't dress up as Honey. Dress up as Henry, my adorable husband who enjoys looking like a woman because he knows I enjoy it, and has good taste in his dresses. It'll be like old times."

So I did. I'd changed a little. When I had gone out with the girls as one of them only a few weeks ago, on Bea's birthday, I still felt like Henry in a dress. Now I felt like a girl in a dress. In fact, after two weeks of moving around in Pearl's office, or swishing down the street on errands, my hips had an exaggeratedly provocative wiggle, my ass pushed out in back and my breasts thrust way forward. Bea had to remind me how ordinary women walk, and by the end of the evening, for the first time in my life I felt like an ordinary woman. That night, Bea invited me into her bed, and I made love to her as Henry, several times. With a difference, of course, because our breasts squashed into each other when we embraced, and while resting between rounds Bea played with my hair style and chatted about changing it to something shorter and more manageable. But I felt happy, like an ordinary girl in love with his wife who feels loved in turn. That's all I really wanted.

Three more weeks as Pearl's personal service receptionist went by like the first two, though they were a little less busy. I suspected that Pearl had set up that second week to be so rushed I wouldn't have time to think of myself as anything but a prostitute turning tricks the way she's told. Well, it worked. That was how I felt. My mouth and my ass were hers, and I used them for her without thinking, the way an auto mechanic uses his hands when asked to do a job. Fucking and sucking and smiling at clients became daily routine requiring no real thought or attention.

Pearl kept urging me to fix my hair or check my makeup, and by the fourth week my hands were always as busy as an orchestral conductor's, patting hairs into place or touching curls into shape, or taking a little mirror out of my purse to stroke on more mascara or lipstick. It became second nature, something I did all the time, altogether unaware of it. Bea commented on it one night, when we were just sitting at home reading while my hands danced all over my face and hair. She said that if I should take up chewing gum, I'd be indistinguishable from any office bimbo waiting to get knocked up and married.

Starting the fourth week, Pearl told me to develop a simple, round, open, girlish handwriting, altogether different from Henry's angular scrawl and more suitable to Honey's character. During my idle hours at my desk, she had me copying statements like "I just love being a girl," and "Fine dressing begins with pretty panties," over and over, until they began to show up in my conversation. Then she said I needed to develop a more romantic imagination, and she got me copying the hot passages from cheap drug store love novels. I looked at the sample passage she marked out for me:

"The candles were burning low by the time I served him coffee," I read, "And his eyes began to burn into mine. I blushed, and my heart beat fiercely beneath my heaving breasts, as he lifted his wine glass to me for one last toast. 'Don't go,' I heard myself saying. 'Please, I need you.' 'And I need you,' he said, rising from his chair and leaning forward toward me. We kissed, and our souls melted into one another, and then our bodies."

"Mrs. Peters," I said, "This is junk. It has nothing to do with my fucking your clients, or cleaning your cunt at the end of the day."

"Honey, you have the wrong attitude," Pearl said. "By the end of next week I want to read a really purple description in your own words of how it feels for you to clean my cunt, as you call it. Just copy lots of these, and let yourself dream. After a while you'll think Mr. Right is reciting sonnets to your eyes while some fat contractor is balling your ass."

So I wrote Pearl a note about the sublime taste, touch, sight, smell, and sound of our closing sessions each day, about longing to touch her woman's mound with my soft, wet tongue, and so forth. She had me correct it as too clinical, or too gushy, or too insincere, until one Friday after I'd been working for her about a month, I got the right amount of passionate sensuality into it, with the right descriptions of tides and heaving oceans and crashing waves for her orgasms, and fireworks in the night sky for mine. In fact I couldn't take any of this seriously, this busywork for receptionists to chew gum by, as Bea called it. But Pearl's emotion-starved life apparently thrived on it. Or else her cynicism.

Which may be why one Friday night she came carrying my one-page sampler into the coffee room while I was cleaning up the week's spilled coffee and cum, and told me to lie down on my back while she rewarded me, because I had gotten the experience of licking her cunt just perfect. She had a 'special treat' in mind. It turned out to be simple. First she sat down on my hips and lowered herself onto my cock, which rose up stiff just in time for her cunt to surround and overwhelm it. Then she humped me until I came. Then she slid forward and sat on my face until I sucked all of my own juice out of her, and hers too. "There," she said when she was through with me. "Taste good? Nice work. Next week I want to see a love letter about your prick in my cunt, in Honey's handwriting."

That was all there was to it, but it ended my career as Pearl's slut girl. It meant nothing, and I told Bea about it, the way I told her everything. Again she got Pearl on the phone while I soaked in the tub. This time I couldn't hear voices, but after a while Bea came in, looking serious.

"Well, I forgive you, this one time, Honey," she began.

I looked at her astonished. What had I done wrong?

"Pearl told me she took advantage of you. She knew you were too tired to think an hour or so ago, and that you don't think about sex in her office at all anyhow, you just do it, like some gas station attendant pumping gas, or some car getting gas pumped into it. She thought you didn't know she'd fucked you until after it was too late."

She'd fucked me? I was bewildered! When? Suddenly I realized she really had! And wanted me to get romantic about it in writing!

Bea continued. "She also told me she'd gotten curious just how submissive you actually are, whether you'll obey any orders no matter what. Also, she said, she'd just had a good week, and you'd just made her cunt feel like Christmas Candy with something you written, and she was feeling horny. I can understand that. She thinks it's just marvelous what I've done to you, that now you'll do anything I ask. So I told her about your spending the night kissing panties soaked in Thor's cum, and she was impressed."

"But now it's over. Honey, I shouldn't have let you stray so far from home while I'm training you. You're already too passive and impressionable. And I mean for you to become much more so! Really, I want you to end up doing anything I ask you to do, with your whole soul, and loving it! From now on you need supervision."

"Pearl knew that your penis is my private property, that you were not supposed to be intimate with any woman other than me, but she's just naturally contrary. I told her that those lesbian businesswomen you slurp up were just fine, but that there shouldn't have been any fucking with your prick, even with her. She apologized. So I forgave her. Of course I told her that she'd have to terminate you as of today, with two week's severance pay. And she agreed."

"Anyhow, my dear, you've just had one more feminine experience. You've been sexually harassed by your Boss. But now you're a lady at liberty, a real lady this time, not just Steve's crossdressing paramour, and you're free to fulfill some of my other plans for you. You've worked as a woman, and you've had sex with quite a few men, different kinds of sex. Some was fun and some certainly not as pleasant as the sex you've enjoyed with Steve. I suspect you've gained in self-confidence as a result of your experiences. Those are a lot of pluses."

"So get out of that tub and put on your prettiest dress. We'll go out to dinner again, just the two of us. And then I want to bring you home, and put you in my bed, and make love to you again. All night. Let's call this your graduation ceremony as a working girl. That part of your life is over, I think. We'll talk about the next phase soon. Trust me, dear girl, I do have wonderful plans for you! I've made you what you are thus far, and you'll love what you're going to become. Not always at first. But you'll see! I promise!"

 

Chapter Ten: More Proposals
(in which the ladies arrange further ways
to improve our heroine)

After I left Pearl's employment things quieted down a bit. That Saturday morning -- well it was not exactly morning anymore, closer to early afternoon when I woke up in Bea's bed and began to make myself presentable. While lying luxuriously in my scented bubble bath, I let my mind drift back over what I had been and what I had become. All in all it was lovely, this experimental living like a woman. Bea had wanted it -- still did -- and I had no regrets. But I had to reverse the process now, and change myself back into a man. I owed it to myself. I knew that with my body and especially my face the way they were, it would be a long process. Making me this way had taken about a year, so I figured reverting to my former status would probably take another year. I patted myself dry, and dusted some fragrant body powder all over, and slipped on some tight jeans that showed off my tush, and a loose shirt that hid my boobs for once, and I just lightly coated my red lips with Vaseline to make them glisten, and I fixed my hair nicely. I wanted to look attractive to Bea, to show there were no hard feelings about what she had done to me, that I appreciated it, but enough was enough. I sat down with Bea to discuss how we could undo what had been done.

But Bea didn't want to hear it. She already had the next phase of my life planned out for me. "No," she said firmly, as soon as she realized what I was about to propose, "Are you still on that subject? Forget it! Just look at yourself! I want you just as you are. I want a girlfriend and a lover, someone who'll share things that most matter to me. I don't want that husband again, ignoring me, or trying to take charge of things. Never again! I'm in charge now!"

I was surprised at how upset she was. She got up and paced the room, and she spoke her thoughts almost at random. "I've missed you the past few weeks, Honey. Some mornings I was having so much fun with you I hated it when the time came for you to put on your suits, or mini-dresses, and your heels, to waggle your ass off to the office to whore for Pearl's clients. Then when you came home, you seemed so tired and dispirited I couldn't ask you to play girly games with me. But now I don't want to share you any more, unless I myself decide when, where and with whom."

"I want you to be my companion, but I want to train you to be a much more attentive and respectful companion than you've ever been, and that'll take lots of patience and effort. For years I was your obedient and dutiful wife, so it's only fair for you to be mine now. Don't you agree? From now on I want you waiting for me when I come home, looking your prettiest. Especially when I come home with some new man who needs to be impressed that I'm no one to trifle with. Think of the effect on any man who's trying to make out with me, who sees you and hears you were once my husband, and learns that I did this to you because you were unsatisfactory. From that moment he'll be devoted to pleasing me, much more careful to see that I'm satisfied."

Bea smiled to herself, and then smiled over at me. "Besides, if you're here all the time, you'll be able to keep the house picked up, and save me a lot of bother."

She stopped pacing and came close to stand over me. I looked up at her, and she looked down. "I see no reason for you to change back, except some misplaced force of habit. You are quite happy with your life, now, aren't you?" It was obviously a rhetorical question, and she didn't wait for me to answer her. "Yes, you are happy. I can see that. You love your dresses, and looking pretty, and wearing perfume, and attracting men. You love to flirt, I've seen it. I take good care of you. You have no burdens, no responsibilities, not a worry in the world. Of course you're happy. You can't want to change back."

I tried to tell her I'd also enjoyed my former life as a man, and that it had its positive sides too, and that it was only natural for me to return to being a man.

She didn't let me finish. "Honey," she said, "Look at you! You're a woman, not a man. You're a much nicer woman, much more desirable, than Henry ever was as a man. Of course you weren't unhappy to be Henry, you didn't know any better. But look where we were headed, straight toward separation and divorce. And now look. We're closer than we've ever been."

"Why not think of it this way? Even if you were just as happy being Henry as you are being Honey, even if the two lifestyles were equally enjoyable -- which isn't the case at all, but let's just suppose it was -- wouldn't it be right for you to choose the lifestyle that was better for both of us? Don't you feel an obligation to choose a lifestyle that makes me happy too? Of course you do."

"So, that's that! I don't want to hear anything more about this silly notion of yours, to give up a happy life for both of us just to return to something that already has failed." She said this with the finality of a judge. I could almost see her bring down the gavel. She then looked silently at me for some time, waiting for what she had just said to sink in.

I couldn't tell her that I didn't care how she felt, because that wasn't true. I cared very much for her, and I supposed that I really should take her feelings into account more than I had in the past, in my former life. But I had better wait before bringing up this subject again, I thought. Better go on as she wanted right now. She's upset right now. So I nodded agreement to her last question. "I want you to be happy, Bea," I said simply.

Bea looked at me a moment longer, then sat down again. "All right. Just so I know you understand. Now, here's where we go from here. You've been Pearl's helper. Now you can be mine. I think you should stay here and take care of the house work, to free me for my other work. You don't really need money, but I'll pay you a regular salary, and that'll give me a tax break. Good idea?"

I nodded my consent.

"I'm glad you see it the same way I do. Actually the house isn't too much work, and with your usual efficiency you'll do it in no time. Let's try it for the rest of the time you need for your make-up to wear off, let's say six months -- OK?"

After working in Pearl's office, I was glad to stay quietly at home for a while. And Bea's reference to my make-up wearing off sounded hopeful. "OK," I said, "Six months. I agree."

"Wonderful. Now we have a deal. You'll have time to help me with my other work too. You can sort of be my girl Friday. For example, I'll be hosting the next meeting of our Literary Society in two weeks, and there're lots of things to prepare. The guest speaker will be Nicolai Voloshov."

She looked at me as if she had announced "Robert Redford." I had no idea who this Nicolai Someone was and my face showed it.

"Of course you wouldn't know him, my pretty little air-head. Cultural matters are beyond you." I started protesting that literature was her field and I had my own, but she continued. "Voloshov is the most controversial and exciting of the new Russian poets. I did a long critical article on him not long ago, on his brilliance and originality. He's living in this country with a Boston lady who likes to support deserving artists. You could handle all the details of his visit, arrange interviews with the local media, and show him around town. Wouldn't you love to do that?"

I liked the idea. It sounded interesting, and would get me out of the house, where I could meet new people.

"But first you need to look more suitable. To work at Pearl's office you needed to be -- well, let's say 'thought-provoking' for any man who saw you. A foxy slut with red hair and red lipstick and bedroom eyes and a walk that looked like a stripper with a rotating ass. Now you need a different look. Monday we'll visit Celeste, and see if she can make you a straw blonde again, maybe with a few highlights. Then we'll need to get you some clothes that are more appropriate, too."

Her plans were made, and there was nothing more to discuss. We spent the rest of the day puttering around the house. It was a very pleasant Saturday, actually. At night she took me to her bed again, and our love-making was as gentle and tender as the day we had just spent. For the first time since her birthday, I was feeling at peace and in control of myself again.

Sunday morning I didn't want to get up at all. I wanted to prolong the previous night as long as possible, and I kept Bea occupied by all means available to me. I conscientiously cleaned our body fluids off her with my tongue, all kinds of fluids, and then we made many more. But she finally put an end to it by reminding me I had to fix myself up. The girls would be over at four for our usual Sunday hen-party. She literally threw me out of bed. I went downstairs to prepare a light brunch for us both.

At four o'clock, right on the dot, I heard Pearl's Mercedes in the driveway. I was in my room, primping before the mirror, checking everything for the last time. Bea had insisted on lacing me into the Victorian corset again, so if I had to suffer the svelte figure it gave me, I wanted to make the most of it. So I was wearing a rather tight beige sweater that showed off my bust, and an ankle-length skirt of reddish brown wool. I cinched my waist with a wide brown belt, to accentuate how it had slimmed down. I felt dressy, but not overdone, just right for an afternoon at home with friends. Most extraordinary were the shoes Bea gave me to mark my new role in her life, a pair of sensible brown oxfords complete with the traditional patterns, laced high on the instep -- but with five inch stiletto heels. They were stunning, and I was sure Kay and Pearl would be jealous. Of course I couldn't walk any distance once they were on my feet, but most of the afternoon I would be sitting, and I was amused that the shoes displayed me to be a woman who was poised, tasteful, cultured, but even so, fuckable.

Bea had already greeted Pearl and Kay when I made my grand entrance, walking slowly down the stairs, swinging my hips and lifting my long skirt just a bit to draw attention to my shoes. They were not unnoticed. Kay and Pearl at once complimented me on them, and on my walk, and I felt proud to be appreciated. "Thank you, ladies," I smiled, and did a little curtsy to both of them. "You are very kind." I was the epitome of a well-bred girl. I went on to the kitchen to bring in coffee, and then I served them, and again smiled nicely while asking, "Do you care for cream or milk, and perhaps sugar?"

I played 'daughter-of-a-good-family' to the hilt, and could feel how all eyes followed my every move until I had served everybody and then sat down myself. With my corset and those heels I couldn't sit in the deep cushions of the sofa, and had to choose to sit very straight in an old-fashioned straight backed chair. But that gave me even further opportunity to cross my ankles, display my legs, and show off my shoes. When I finally seated myself, Pearl broke the long silence by asking, "Is that it? Do we applaud now?" Then normal conversation resumed. I'd made the impression I'd wanted to make.

Bea reported on her plans for the Literary Society meeting, and that she had commissioned me to take care of the guest of honor. She explained how she meant to change my looks.

Pearl disagreed at first. "She looks very attractive right now, and she proved it during the past few weeks. No man who looks at her can keep his hands off her, and no women either, of a certain kind."

"That's exactly what I want to change, Pearl," Bea said firmly, her meaning unmistakable. "Now she needs to look like a proper secretary, someone who works with her mind, not only her butt."

Kay agreed. "Honey has a very attractive backside, if I do say so myself," she said. "The hormones I prescribed were designed to make Honey look sexy coming and going, to give her both tits and an ass. Now she can just sit on it for a while, I suppose. But that doesn't mean we can't improve her looks a little in other ways. Especially if she's going back to her original hair color, we could enhance her other features to compensate. It would take only very minor alterations. For instance, we could raise her eyebrows just a little bit, and arch them, opening her eyes more and removing little creases here and there." She got up and demonstrated what she meant on my face. "And we could enhance her lips just a wee bit, make them just a little fuller. She'd look ten years younger then. Less like a slut, more like a doll. When does the poet laureate fly in? In two weeks? We have just enough time to do it so all traces of the operation will have vanished. Our new Honey will look better than new."

I was not at all eager to have these women make further changes in me. I already had boobs, and curves where they weren't welcome except to men, and that made returning to my former self difficult enough. A beauty-operation on my face would only make me look more feminine. But I knew Bea and her friends. Any show of resistance, and they'd overwhelm me, and who knew what else they'd start recommending? I sat silent, hoping Bea would think enough was enough.

To my dismay Bea found the idea well worth considering, and said so. Pearl was of course all for it; she liked my getting more "kissable lips," and she commented that a fuller mouth would also enhance my cocksucking if I should ever want to return to that as a career. After discussing the pros and cons, they all agreed that I should see Kay in the morning and have my face rearranged.

I felt so helpless with these domineering women. For months I'd been conditioned to be sweetly compliant, and now I had no strength to oppose them.

I tried. "Now wait a minute," I said. "I like my face the way it is!"

It was as if I'd said nothing at all. They simply paid no attention. They'd already agreed among themselves what was in my own best interest. As previously, I finally gave in.

"Actually," Kay continued, not yet done, "