This is a work of FICTION for ADULTS only. Do NOT read this if you are under 18 or if you are not an adult according to the laws of your state or country. Do NOT read this if you are offended by fantasies involving sexually explicit material.
Comments welcome to bethjac@hotmail.com

 

My Dear Martha

by Bethany Jacques

 

He had me. Exactly where he wanted me. Mr Bowen stood in front of me, in his office, with my expenses claim in his hand and a stern look on his face. I knew I was for it. The sack, most probably. We both knew what was on it, I'd been desperate for cash and the fraudulent claims had seemed so easy. But he'd been suspicious about just one item and had discovered the whole string of them the unjustified claims going back over a year.

"James. You know what this means." I knew.

"Look, James, I like you, really. Great promise, that's what I thought when you first came to work for me. And I still think that."

Surely - an opening. His body language, his tone, they just didn't say 'sacking' to me. Maybe I could just resign, get out quickly and look for another job. Not like this one though, but I could work my way up again.

"I have a suggestion, James. Firstly, this has to stop. OK"

"Oh sure, Mr Bowen. Absolutely. I'm so sorry ..."

"All right, James. But, second, you need to do something for me. I want you to come to my house tonight, you know where don't you? The big house at the end of Claris Road. Be there at 8. On the dot. I'll explain then, OK?"

That surprised me. Not the sort of thing I would have expected. Yes, I did know where he lived, I passed it some mornings when I had to fill up with petrol on my way to work. The detour took me to the top of Claris Road, then down it and back to the main road. I didn't know what he was on about really but it could keep me in the job then sure, I'd go round there.

"Right James, back to work now, let's get through the afternoon. TGIF you know. And let me have your new expenses claim before you go. Done correctly this time, alright James?"

So I got through the afternoon, still perplexed. However after going home at the usual time, I didn't change, kept my suit on. Maybe whatever Mr Bowen wanted was job-related, I just didn't know. And at 7.58 I was standing outside his front door, still puzzled. I looked round - big house! Well, Mr Bowen was pretty high up in the company, I suppose he had done pretty well for himself.

He let me in and led me initially to the lounge. I sat down, nervous.

"James, let me say first. This chat is totally confidential. If you tell anyone about it, anyone at all, I'll deny every word. No questions, James. You do as I say or - well - you know what will happen."

I did. He'd shop me, and I'd be out of a job.

"OK James, follow me."

I followed him upstairs, wondering just what was going to involved. He led me towards the small bedroom at the top of the stairs.

"OK James. You may know, maybe you don't, anyway. Just over a year ago my wife left me. I won't say why. But she took my dear daughter with her. Martha was only 14, the sweetest little girl. I miss her so much, I do love my dear daughter."

I hadn't the faintest idea where this was going but Mr Bowen was getting upset, even a little bit tearful.

"Now James. You're not very tall are you? In fact, about the same height as my dear Martha. So you're going to do something for me."

He opened the door into the small bedroom and led me in. This had obviously been Martha's room, all her stuff was still there, some stuffed toys, pony pictures on the wall, probably a typical young girl's room. There were some clothes on the bed, I was puzzled as to why they were still there after a year or so.

"Alright James, I'm going down into the lounge now. I want you to shower first. Then dress yourself in these clothes and then come down. Put a little makeup on if you like, just a little."

"Mr Bowen, I ..."

"DON'T INTERRUPT. You'll do as I ask. And when you come down you'll speak sweetly, and you'll call me Daddy. It will probably take you about 15 minutes, don't be longer. I'll be waiting."

He turned, didn't give me a chance to say anything, just walked out and closed the door. I heard his feet on the stairs. Shit! What had I got myself into?

I puzzled over Mr Bowen's request. I looked round, picking up and inspecting the clothes on the bed. Then I noticed two photographs of him and his daughter on the dressing table. One was just him and her, the other showed - obviously - his wife too. Rather a tall woman, I thought, and well-built - which is to say a little too wide - if you know what I mean. The one really striking feature was her hair, a deep red colour, at least it looked like that in the photo, almost 'big hair' as they say

Now it would be wrong for me to say there was a strong resemblance between Martha and I. But - just a little, there was. The same shaped face, same hair colour, maybe it was just that. Martha's hair was much longer than mine but there were at least small similarities in our appearances, even if I was way way older than her.

"James. You started?"

The voice called up the stairs. I didn't have time there and then to analyse my boss's motives or to think where this might lead. That could come later, right now I just had to do it. So I did.

I stripped and showered in a rather flowery-scented shower get, that was the only one there. There was a razor in the en-suite bathroom so I smoothed my face. I had to get a move on so I quickly dressed in the clothes left out on the bed. White panties, a white bra, blouse and skirt, socks and low-heeled shoes into which I had to squeeze my feet. There was a wig on the bed too, that surprised me. Obviously this hadn't been Martha's, it was something my boss had bought. He'd planned this in advance!

I wasn't too sure about the makeup but I did remember some of the stuff I'd seen my sister do. I smeared a very little eye-shadow over my eyelids, a little blusher to my cheeks, just a touch of a light pink lipstick. I looked in the mirror. Not bad, I thought. Not good either, I have to say, in no way did I look like a 14 year-old girl. But if this was what the boss wanted, this was to be what he got.

I heard someone moving downstairs, realised my time was running out. I hurried a little, out of the bedroom, down the stairs, into the lounge. Mr Bowen was sitting in the armchair. I gulped. Was I about to make a total fool of myself? Was this some sort of wind-up?

"Hello Daddy."

I tried to lift my voice, to make it less deep and masculine. Mr Bowen looked up. He smiled! He stood up and walked over towards me, and took my hand. He seemed genuinely pleased to see me.

"Martha, my dear, how nice of you to come to see your Daddy. Here, my dear, let me kiss you."

Which he did. A small peck on the cheek, it surprised me.

"Now then my darling, what would you like, tea and biscuits maybe?"

What the fuck is going on here? I thought. I just couldn't read him, surely he didn't actually think I was Martha, some sort of clothing-induced delusion or something. I looked at him, I didn't speak, I wasn't sure what to say.

And he looked at me. His expression just began to change a little. He wasn't deluded, he knew exactly what was going on, but as my silence extended to about half a minute I could see anger begin to appear in his expression. I wasn't doing this right. But I had to, I realised that.

"ER - yes Daddy, I'd like that. Shall I help with the tea?"

So I did. Helped with the tea. and biscuits. I was a bit nonplussed, we just sat on the sofa and had tea and biscuits, he asked me to clear away after and do the dishes, then to sit with him afterwards and watch television. A while later I went back upstairs to change back, he insisted I just walk out afterwards without him seeing 'James' again.

There was no mention of any of this when we got back to work after the weekend, just a brief typed noted on the next Thursday telling me to do the same on the next day. I was going to object but - well - he obviously was in the driving seat.

So I did the same thing the next Friday, and the one after that, very little variation, just me pretending to be his daughter, in a pinafore dress that second time, then in a school uniform the third time. When the fourth visit came round I was ready for the same sort of thing again but the Thursday message was different.

"Later this week. 9 pm". that's all it said, I did as asked, couldn't really argue.

And this time was different. When I came down, 'dressed', in a blouse and skirt again, Mr Bowen was standing in the kitchen.

"Hello Daddy." Same again.

"Hello Martha dear. My, you do look nice. Now then, your little bag is in the hall, will you get it?"

I looked, there was a small leather-look handbag there, I took it into the kitchen.

"I have to go to the shops to get some cigarettes. Would you like to come with me?"

Shit! No way. There was absolutely no way I was going to let anyone else see me like that, dressed like a sissy in little girl's clothes. My voice cracked, back to James rather than Martha as I told him so.

That look of disapproval, with an underlying threat, appeared on his face again. Then he relaxed and smiled.

"It will be alright, Martha my dear. You can stay in the car. It's getting dark, no-one will see us, at least not from close up."

In the end I had no choice. I followed him out to the car and sat beside him while he drove down the road and went into the newsagent. But after he got back in he didn't drive straight back, a few minutes later he pulled into the car park of the local park.

"I thought we might have a little walk, Martha."

I knew he'd use the same argument, it was quite dark by then so no-one would notice a 'girl' and her father walking together. We did stroll down to the pond, hand-in-hand, though the ducks weren't in evidence, it was too late for them.

"Come on my dear, better be getting you back" he said, taking my hand again. We walked back to the car, him apparently feeling content with what we had done, me feeling distinctly nervous.

And the next week we did almost exactly the same again. I was somewhat ashamed to realise, afterwards, that in a strange way I actually enjoyed myself that time. The only difference had been that as we neared the car an older couple, obviously out for their own evening constitutional, walked past us and said 'Hello'. Mr Bowen replied in kind, then stopped. We were still holding hands. "Nice evening for it, isn't it." The other woman muttered something and smiled at me as we moved on back to the car. That part, if I am honest, I enjoyed.

And after, when I had changed and was creeping out of the house, I stopped for a moment. He was probably in the lounge, but I realised as I was just about to open the front door, that I'd left my tie in Martha's bedroom. I slowly backtracked and got it, then heard noises from the room next door. The door was slightly ajar, I couldn't see right in but I could see in the wardrobe mirror. He was lying on the bed. Wanking! He was rubbing his cock and moaning to himself. I felt a bit sorry for him but then I say what he was looking at.

It was a picture, maybe a computer printout or something, an A4 sheet. A picture of me! Me as 'Martha', in the kitchen, bending over to pick something from the floor and just showing my panties.

He must have taken it with a digital camera, from the doorway, when I wasn't looking. He was wanking over me, or maybe even over his daughter in his own mind. That was so sick. Then I looked again. His cock was erect. And so BIG! I've only seen two or three erect or semi-erect penises in my life, apart fro odd glimpses on gay websites I've got into while looking for some decent porn online. So I hadn't much to compare it with but, really, as he began to approach a climax I could see it clearly. It really was enormous. I mean, mine, well, though I'd never got a ruler to it I maybe thought of it as six inches, maybe seven. But this one, wow! At least eleven inches, I thought, maybe even a foot long, and much wider, much thicker than mine. I realised I was getting just a bit aroused, watching this going on. I felt uncomfortable so I backed off, crept downstairs, and out.

During the next week I thought about that cock a lot. Really, the odd circumstances in which I'd come across it, but I was puzzled as to why I was so fascinated. And the whole thing with Mr Bowen, I knew it couldn't go on like that. Something had to be sorted out in one way or another. I wondered whether to ask him about it in the week but I didn't. Nothing was ever said, apart from the Thursday notes.

And that week the note was different. "Not this week. See you next week."

I didn't know why but I asked one of his office staff, nonchalantly I hoped while he was out of the office, about his wife, tried to make it an off-hand question.

"Oh, no James. Mrs Bowen lives in Ireland now, with their daughter, he rarely sees them. In fact he hasn't seen her for several months, but she is coming over this weekend."

So that was why. At least it would give me a Friday evening off, all the dressing and role-play and stuff had totally messed up that aspect of my social life. Maybe I could just go to the pub, have a few drinks, see one or two of my mates. Yet - there was a tinge of regret. Silly though it sounds I had begun to actually look forward to my 'Martha' sessions. And going out and walking about - and being actually seen by someone that last time, well, that really had been something of a thrill.

So the next day, the Friday, I was in a bit of an odd mood. It was at the start of the afternoon when Nadine, the secretary I'd spoken to the previous day, walked past me and smiled. Nice girl, that Nadine. Yet she looked concerned.

"Penny for them, Nadine?"

"Bloody Keith!"

That took me aback, then I realised. Keith Bowen. He had to be 'Mr Bowen' to me. "Mr Bowen? What's the problem?"

"He's been called out, up to Derby. Not getting back until about half seven. He's asked me to pick his daughter up at the station. She lives with Kathy most of the time - his ex. I mean, well, I've done it once before. Nice girl, Martha, but I had a date tonight, this is going to mess things no end. I could have done without it thank you very much."

I thought, just for a moment. Suddenly a long string of possibilities leapt into my mind. Maybe there was a way in here. Or rather a way out of my problem, a way to loosen or even break that man's hold on me. I didn't think it through there and then but, yes, there was the germ of an idea there somewhere.

"Look, Nadine, I'll pick her up if you like. Not a problem, just give her a lift to his house, is that all?"

Nadine looked at me suspiciously. "Why, James? Why the willingness to help? Not after something in return are we?" She grinned.

I could understand her being suspicious, at one time I'd rather fancied my chances with Nadine.

"Oh, no. Look, I know I made a move on you once but I remember very distinctly what you said, you certainly put me in my place. Great shame but there we are. No, just to give you the chance to go on your date. No need to tell Mr Bowen if you don't want to. I can tell Mary not to tell him as well if you'd like."

Nice touch that, 'Mary'.

"It's Martha. OK then, see me a bit later, I've got his spare key for the front door. Just deliver her there, OK James?"

I agreed. She leaned over and kissed me on the cheek.

"That's all you're getting from me James. But I'll buy you a pint someday. OK?"

I actually managed to get out a few minutes early that evening, Nadine wasn't going to tell Mr Bowen about that either. I got home and changed out of my suit, and was at the station ten minutes early to meet the train. Very unusually, it was early, I was just going to try to park when a small crowd came out of the front entrance, obviously a train had just unloaded. And I saw Martha.

I recognised her straight away of course. But she wasn't quite as I'd expected, and I realised why. She wasn't thirteen any more, as in the photos I'd seen. She was two years older and well on the way to becoming a young woman. Still dressed rather plainly but with heels rather than the flat shoes I'd seen, and indeed I'd been wearing! And medium-sized, rather extravagant earrings too. I pushed the door open and called out.

"Martha. Martha! Hi there, Nadine asked me to pick you up, hope you don't mind. OK?"

She leaned over to look into the car, a little warily. Not surprising really, being met at the station by a strange male. I held out the key Nadine had given me, as some sort of proof I was who I said I was. She saw it, then got in beside me.

"I'm James, I work with your Dad. Look, please, don't tell him I picked you up, it's just so that Nadine can go on her date tonight . OK?"

Martha looked across at me, just a little suspiciously again but then she took the key I'd put on the dashboard.

"OK then James, I believe you. I won't tell."

We didn't say much else as I drove out of town towards Mr Bowen's house. Then, about 200 yards short Martha reached out to touch my hand.

"James, please, will you do me a favour. Just pull in here, into the pub car park. Let me buy you a drink. We're early, I've got ten minutes at least."

I didn't have time to think properly, just indicated and pulled in. "If you think it's OK?"

"Sure it is James. And I won't tell Dad if you won't. It's just that he seems to think I'm still his little girl. I mean, I'm nearly sixteen, he treats me all the time as if I was twelve."

'Fourteen' I thought, though I didn't say it.

'Hang on' I thought. 'Fifteen?' If that was the case surely I shouldn't be going into a pub with her? If Mr Bowen found out I'd be in trouble. OK, I'd tried to work out a way out of the situation but this wasn't part of it, this could mess things up entirely. I didn't have time to say anything though, Martha was already out of the car.

"Come on then" she called, turning and looking towards me.

I didn't have a choice there either. Were the whole family for some reason against me? I just had to follow, as we entered the bar I felt Martha grab my hand. "Mine's a rum and coke, James, a large one."

At the bar the barman was looking at us inquisitively. At that time they must have just opened up.

"ER, rum and coke please, a large one" I repeated, "and a half of bitter." I was driving after all, didn't want the police onto me as well. The barman looked doubtful.

"And one for yourself" added Martha. As he turned to get the drinks Martha smiled at me. "Always works if someone suspects your age" she muttered quietly.

'Cunning cow' I thought.

We settled into a seat by the fire, it was a bit cold outside anyway and I was shivering a little with nerves. Martha leaned back to shrug off her coat. I couldn't help but notice, you do, don't you, her breasts protruding through her sweater. Another thing I'd been getting wrong, she really was developing into an attractive young woman.

"Have you a cigarette, James?" she asked. "I can't really when Daddy is around, spoils his little-girl image of me."

'Shit' I thought. 'She really must be a handful at home, I reckon he's well rid of her'. I resolved never to have children, not girls at least.

We lit up and sat for about five minutes, having our drinks, before Martha got up again.

"OK, better go see how the old guy is. Hang on a couple of minutes, James"

She left in the direction of the Ladies, coming back looking different. The big earrings had gone, replaced by much smaller studs. And some of the make-up too, OK she didn't look thirteen, but no longer did she look about eighteen either. And sucking a mint too, I could tell, to get rid of the detectable effects of the cigarette and the rum, no doubt. No hand-holding this time, we headed back to the car and I drove her along to Daddy's house.

As I came out of the drive and moved up the road again I noticed a large car come round the corner ahead of me. Glancing in my mirror as it passed me I saw it turn into the drive. Daddy. Keith Bowen. I'd only just made it in time, I breathed a small sigh of relief. I did get down to the pub that evening, did have a couple with the lads, did have a fairly ordinary Friday night out.

Back at work again, nothing was said except one knowing smile from Nadine in the middle of the Monday morning. Mr Bowen may have said something, anyway we'd got away with that at least. Just work all week, normal stuff, until the note on Thursday - 'Tomorrow, 7 pm' was all it said. So he wasn't thinking of an outing then? We would see.

On the Friday, as Mr Bowen let me in, we didn't say much at that stage most weeks now. He knew that I knew what to do. But this week I was ready. At the bottom of the stairs I turned.

"Err - Mr Bowen. Just one thing. If we're going out tonight..." - I didn't give him a chance to say anything - "I think it might be better if I dressed a little differently, with a bit more makeup and so on, just to be sure, I mean, don't want to be caught out do we?"

He looked a little puzzled, probably wondering why I seemed to be co-operating with him, after all I was supposed to be the reluctant one in this role-play.

"OK James. If you wish" was all he said. But it was enough for me.

Up in Martha's ex-bedroom, it was rather exciting to think that young lady had been sleeping in there only a few days earlier, I was in familiar territory but determined to stretch things just a little further. I did as before, but more of it. I replaced the blouse Mr Bowen had left out with another one, a rather more effeminate one I'd seen in one of the drawers on a previous visit. It was thinner too, and showed through the bra I'd bought. Yes, I'd been into a discount store the previous week, got a cheap black push-up bra. OK, I know, why was I buying stuff myself? Let's just call it an investment. I wanted to reap the rewards of this little visit, some slight expenditure was in order.

A different skirt too, much like the ordinary black one I'd worn before but rather shinier and shorter. And tights instead of those girly white socks. And black patent higher shoes, about a 2 1/2" heel, again cheap but effective. And with Martha in mind, the girl I'd met rather than the one I'd been shown in the photos - a little padding in the bra, slightly more make-up than previously, mascara and so on, and a brighter lipstick. Hoop clip earrings too. I wondered about the nails, remembering that Martha hadn't had the chance to take off her nail varnish the previous week. OK, yes, it took a few minutes longer but I did it, stroked a little pinkish nail polish across each nail. This was taking too long!

"Hello there?"

A call came up the stairs. Not saying 'James', or 'Martha' this time.

I opened the door and went down, into the lounge. Keith was there, standing by the window looking out. I gulped as I entered, he heard me move and turned towards me. I walked steadily across the room as he looked, slightly surprised by the 'young woman' he was seeing.

"Hello Daddy" I said, as usual. But this time it was me who initiated the brief kiss on the cheek. And not quite so brief either, maybe two seconds of contact, my lips on his cheek, rather than about half second the other way round. "How are you today, Daddy?"

I'd thrown him a little, I could tell. I waited. On this moment could depend my future. I'd thought I'd read him correctly, worked out what he wanted. Had I got it right?

"Hello Martha my dear. My, you do look nice tonight."

YES! Done it. Now I knew EXACTLY where I was heading, this was going to work. I smiled at him. "Thank you, shall I get you a drink, Daddy dear, or are we going out again? I'd quite like to if you don't mind."

Again he was hesitant but here I was offering exactly what he wanted. It was a mild evening, nice sunshine still, we could walk in the park again, I knew he'd like that. I could tell, he really was excited to have his 'daughter' with him as he drove us to the park. We just walked for a few minutes, hand in hand, I made sure it was a bit more than usual though, made sure I entwined my fingers with his, just a little more 'intimate' than usual. We passed several people, couples and singles, it was quite a bit earlier than our previous outings.

It would be wrong to say no-one gave us a second glance, but the glances we got were all appreciative, I could tell. The make-up and the bra-padding, and the tights and heels, they did make quite a difference. Maybe I didn't look thirteen, maybe not even fifteen, but eighteen or nineteen, sure. And female. Definitely. That one I had cracked.

As we got back into the car I made sure my skirt rode up a little, to show just a bit more thigh. Daughter or not, he noticed.

"Daddy, please, can we not go back quite yet. How about we call in the shops on the way back, it would be nice to have a look round with you."

So we did. I definitely had him exactly where I wanted him, like so many daughters I was just learning how to wrap him round my delicately varnished little finger. I steered him towards the supermarket as we strolled, knowing there must be something he wanted from there. Sure there was, he was out of sugar. I'd known there had to be something. So I carried the basket in true girly fashion, with one bag of sugar in it, and steered him towards the non-foods section.

"Ooh, look Daddy, aren't they nice?"

'They' were sweaters, slightly skimpy, tight, just the sort of thing a teenage girl might easily wear.

"Do you think that might suit me?" I asked, holding it up against me for his approval and smiling. "Would you buy it for me?"

He did, and a few other things besides, some black tights, another pair of clip earrings, and some make-up, blusher and eye-liner and a lipstick. I was pulling his string and he was quite happily being pulled. Back at the house I tripped upstairs and re-dressed slightly, in the meantime sliding just a little more padding into my bra. The effect was very much approved of, we spent quite a bit longer than usual in the lounge. And not tea this time, I poured my 'Daddy' a large scotch and soda while I had a coke (with just a little rum surreptitiously added while he wasn't watching).

Unusually, this time, as I was leaving after changing, Mr Bowen wanted a word.

"James, I do appreciate what you have done today. Look, after next week, I'd like you to come then, I think I should wrap this up. I'll give you back your expense sheets, you can shred them. It's Martha's sixteenth birthday next Saturday, you know. She came to visit last week. She's quite growing up now, I think we should stop."

"OK Mr Bowen. Thanks. One last go, OK?"

I paused. That was exactly what I had wanted, if he hadn't said it I was going to threaten him with telling Martha about our little sessions. I knew I could have the upper hand now, if I wanted. But there was one more thing. I hadn't realised about the birthday date. That fitted perfectly.

"Look, let's do this properly. How about I come Saturday instead, then. I could come earlier maybe?"

Mr Bowen paused just for a moment but I knew he was going to agree. As if to tempt him more I continued. "And how would you like to take 'Martha' out properly? To dinner maybe. Birthday treat?"

"Ooh yes!"

"I'd need to buy something, get a dress somehow, something to make you proud. It might be rather expensive though, you might not think it was worth it."

I knew damn well he would though. I left the house with £250 in cash in my pocket - 'for a nice dress and so on'. Nice dress? I'd show him!

I went shopping Saturday. On the Monday and the Tuesday I got another £200 out of 'Daddy'. But he was going to get his money's worth and so was I. On the Friday night I painted my toenails. I slept soundly, in anticipation. And I dreamed. Of Keith's enormous cock!

I arrived on the Saturday as arranged, this time it had been my turn to send a little typed note, on the Thursday. 'Saturday 5 pm'. That was all that was needed. Just my toenails done in advance, but ready. With several large bags of stuff. I headed upstairs straight away, then came down before starting. Keith was there, with his 'evidence', my expense forms with all their imaginary additions, I shoved them in my pocket resolving to burn them later. I could have walked out there and then but I didn't. There was still something I wanted to do. We each had a scotch and soda, then I headed upstairs to what I was beginning to think of as 'my bedroom'. I'd warned Daddy that I might take a little longer than usual.

"The table's booked for 8" was all he said, sounding just a little nervous, not quite so sure this time. That would do me.

Indeed it did, I had so much more to do. A complete strip and shower, and sticking on the false boobs I'd bought on a trip to a shop in Brum, one which specialised in items for transvestites. Then strapping myself into my black lingerie, my tight black panties and bustier, to tighten my waist and show off my new boobs to their best effect. Then the black stockings, long-line so they clipped on high up my thigh. I did the make-up next, more exotically than previously but trying not to overdo it. In a sense I was copying Martha from a couple of weeks earlier yet trying to go one step further than she had, to go for an even more mature look, sexier, more sensual.

The jewellery looked good, big hoop earrings, I loved that type, always admired a girl who can carry those off, and a thin gold ankle chain to match the two bracelets on one wrist. Other accessories too, gold-coloured rings, a ladies' watch, I stood and looked at the effect. It worked! I'd done my toes earlier, so I did my fingers, the same deep pink nail varnish, and lips too to match. The wig? I'd been in a bit of a dilemma there. The longish straight brown wig I'd worn nearly every Friday for several weeks, it was really a bit plain. Yet that wig really did closely match Martha's own hair. Some of the ones I'd seen in the TV shop in town had attracted me but I thought that may be going just a bit too far.

The dress I'd bought looked lovely in the shop. Maybe a 'real' girl would have carried it off better than me but I did a pretty good job myself. It was black and quite short, a simple design but one that did show off my corset-assisted figure. With the high-heeled shoes on, a bargain at the TV shop and a far better fit than the tight low-heeled pair I'd had to endure for all those Fridays, I was finished. Ready. And I felt good. I'd wanted to believe it and now as I stared in the mirror at my reflection, I was sure. I saw Martha, nearer to the one I'd met than the girl Mr Bowen had idealised, but a very definitely-female Martha.

"Hello Daddy."

The by-now traditional greeting when I walked in on Mr Bowen in the lounge. And again, as last time, I started the kiss. Yet again just a bit more forward than last time, just a little longer and aiming at the corner of his lips. I smiled sweetly. "Ready to go out, Daddy?"

He gulped. Not surprisingly really. The daughter he had remembered, the little fourteen-year-old girl, the one I'd been role-playing for all those weeks, she had gone. Grown up or rather been made-up. He was rather embarrassed, I could tell, blushing a little. And torn, pulled several ways by memories of a young girl, a recent weekend with the real Martha, and by very odd though pleasurable experiences with this 'stranger'.

But I persevered. I knew what I wanted and this outing was to be the real start of things.

"You said dinner was booked for 8, Daddy, hadn't we better be going?" That prompted him. He had to decide quickly.

"You're quite right, Martha my love. We'd better get a move on. I wonder if I've time for a drink first, I think I need one."

"Ooh Daddy, better not. I mean, not if you're driving surely." I smiled sweetly.

He had to agree with me. I was relieved it was beginning to get a little dark as we set off, specially since we had to walk in the open, near the town centre, for about 50 yards from where we parked the car. I made the most of that walk though, setting the mood for the evening, holding hands with my 'daddy', lightly intertwining my fingers with his and chatting in my Martha voice as best I could. I was obviously excited too, probably more than him.

The actual dinner went well and without incident. Maybe I'd worried too much about being spotted, but absolutely no-one in the little restaurant questioned my gender the whole time. Actually, thinking about it a little later, it was maybe a good idea to dress a little older. In no way could I have played a fourteen-year-old, but I think the waiters and so on saw me as maybe twenty or twenty-two, maybe still as Mr Bowen's daughter but as an older daughter.

It was on our way out that things could have gone wrong. Just as we were getting up to go out - I saw someone I knew, someone I used to work with in a previous job. He probably didn't recognise me but I panicked a little, grabbed Mr Bowen's hand and pulled him sideways towards the restaurant bar, out of sight of the main dining room. I didn't want to slip out of character so I just asked sweetly "Daddy, thank you so much for the dinner, do you think, now that I'm a little older, we could have drink together, as a birthday treat?"

Despite the forthcoming drive, he just had to agree, I was sure he'd welcome a drink anyway. We sat at the bar, I crossed my legs to show off my thighs again, Mr Bowen gulped.

"Daddy, can I have a proper drink please, since it's my birthday? I'd like a rum and coke if that's all right."

I sat there sipping it, enjoying the ambience, enjoying the experience of being a woman, or a girl, whichever. And appreciating the looks I was getting from some of the staff and from the other customers. I leaned over and kissed my escort again, on the cheek, lingering a little so he could appreciate the warmth of my lips and the scent of my perfume. I was gently caressing the fingers of his hand and just wondering. Could this happen? Could he really be seduced by his daughter?

He was nervous as well as excited, I just had to make the most of this, I may never ever be in anything like this situation again. I sipped my rum and coke. I moved a hand to stroke my thigh and slide the hem of my dress up just a little. Yes, I could do this.

"Daddy, I think we should go home now, do you?"

He drove carefully back and opened the front door, I followed him in. At this stage on previous occasions, I'd gone straight upstairs and changed back into being James but this time was different anyway. I turned and looked him straight in the eyes.

"How about another drink, Daddy my dear?"

Obviously he was going to agree, he must have been in some sort of mental torment by that stage. We ended up sitting side by side on the sofa in the lounge, me with my rum-and-coke, 'Daddy' with a large scotch I'd poured him.

"Thank you so much for this, Daddy, it's been a wonderful birthday. I've so enjoyed myself."

Keith's voice was hesitant. "Well thank you, Martha my love, I have enjoyed it so much too."

"I want to thank you properly, Daddy"

Sitting there beside him, I reached over to put our glasses safely on the small table beside the sofa, then moved to give him what I imagined he thought would be one final peck on the cheek. Instead I inclined my head a little and kissed him briefly and tenderly on the lips.

"Oooh Daddy, that is nice. Do you like that, Daddy?"

"Err - yes". Keith's voice was even less steady, I moved in and kissed him again, caressing his lips with mine.

He was shaking with nerves but I carried on, kissing him for a third time, this time teasing his lips open a little with my tongue. And as I leaned over I couldn't help noticing, where my thigh was against his I felt a reaction, felt his cock beginning to grow.

"Daddy, do you mind, do you like me kissing you like that. Maybe I shouldn't but it is so nice. Can I kiss you again?"

I didn't wait for a reply. I moved in yet again, injecting more passion into my kissing and slowly sliding my fingers up his thigh to touch the top of his cock through his trousers.

"Oooh Martha, my darling, that is so good."

"Daddy you are so hot" I cooed as I moved my fingers up the front of his shirt. "Let me take your tie off. You really are the best daddy in the world, my darling"

At that I felt the cock twitch against my thigh. All was going well but I knew a change of scene was needed. I removed the tie and undid a few buttons, adding one final brief kiss on the lips. I moved away.

"I think I need another drink. Daddy my dear, would it be a good idea if I stayed the night? Would you like me to?"

OK so he was confused. I suppose actually he knew that it was 'James' asking this, but clearly he did so much want it to be Martha. He didn't say anything straight away so I stood up and straightened my dress, sliding my hands down over my thighs provocatively and giving him a chance to see my cleavage close up.

"Shall I go and get ready for bed, Daddy?"

I knew that was a dangerous move, leaving him alone, it could have given him a chance to straighten out his thoughts, to realise what was happening, that basically it wasn't his daughter suggesting she stay the night but a dressed-up man trying to seduce him. But I had to do it, to successfully move on to the next step.

"You get yourself another drink, Daddy, I'll go and get ready. I won't be long."

After a very rapid quick change, maybe only four or five minutes I returned to the lounge. No dress, no basque, no bra, just a short black baby-doll nightie and a long black translucent negligee. I'd kept the stockings and high-heels on, and all the jewellery.

"OK Daddy? How do you think I look?"

With his rose-tinted glasses on I knew he'd see what he wanted to. And he did. Even looking like that, boobs obviously in evidence, nipples thrusting out, even stretching his credulity to the limit, he was still where I wanted him. I smiled and held out a hand.

"Ready for bed, Daddy dear?"

It was like leading a very placid dog on a lead, he followed me up the stairs so meekly, into my bedroom. We paused outside 'my' bedroom. I turned towards him and kissed him on the lips, yet again. "Shall I help you get ready Daddy?"

I led him into his own bedroom and began to help him undress. Eventually he was sat on the edge of the bed wearing only his shorts. And he was STILL nervous. In fact he was shaking, I began to wonder if I'd not pushed him too far, if he was going to crack up in some way. I sat down beside him and began to nibble his ear gently, stroking first his hair and then his shoulder and chest, caressing him, placating him. He began to stop shaking, to calm down. I gently pulled his head across towards my almost-exposed breasts. He settled his head between my mounds, I continued to stroke him gently and to move my hands downwards.

I was ready. Time for the kill.

"Daddy. I love you."

He looked deeply into my eyes. At that moment I knew, he really did believe he was with his daughter, and that I loved him. He loved me too. So much he was quite willing to partake in sexual activity. We kissed.

And that kiss, well. It went so much further than anything I'd initiated down stairs, it was passion, it was lust. Martin rolled me over and moved on top of me, his hands moving round my body, caressing my boobs, gripping my waist, sliding over my bum and down my thighs.

I looked up at him and smiled. "Daddy, darling, this is so good. Daddy. I want you."

"Oh my god, Martha, I do so love you my darling, I love you too."

My hand slid inside his shorts and pulled them down, I turned and looked down to feast my eyes. I was not disappointed. His cock was even bigger than I remembered, from what I'd seen in the mirror several weeks earlier. I slid my fingers down to caress the wonderful cock I had exposed.

I moved my head closer and kissed the throbbing purple head. It reacted, bucking hard

"Martha, that is so wonderful."

I opened my mouth and slid my red lips down over the head and onto the shaft. The bucking continued and increased, I could tell it wasn't going to be long. I swirled my tongue round inside my mouth, felt its temperature increase. Then he climaxed.

I felt the hot cum shoot hard into the roof of my mouth, felt the bucking and throbbing as Daddy unloaded into me. I sucked greedily, swallowing hard, trying to keep up with the load as it poured out and into me.

Then I noticed the noise, I heard the shouting and calling out.

"Oh my god, Martha my darling, I do love you so much, Martha my love ...."

And then it stopped. The massive cock wilted, the noise subsided, Martin collapsed back onto the bed, Spent. and happy. I leaned over his naked body for one more kiss, cum drooling from my red lips.

"Sleep now Daddy. Sleep."

And he did. Within seconds his eyes were closed, he was breathing deeply. He was satiated. and so was I. I heaved myself up from the bed and, for the first time unsteady on my high heels, I staggered into 'my' bedroom and collapsed onto the bed. And I slept too.

I woke quite early, and peered into the main bedroom, 'Daddy' was still fast asleep. I grabbed my dress and re-did my make-up, repairing a little of the damage of the previous night. I stuffed my nightie and negligee, my make-up, some of the other clothes I'd had out, into my case and very quickly and quietly descended the stairs.

If anyone had looked closely at me driving home there could have been a problem, my make-up and wig and so on were really not all they should have been, not if I wanted to 'pass'. But hardly anyone saw me, it was still early, I only passed about three cars and one milk float, and got into my flat without being too closely observed. I stripped, cleaned and showered. And then I slept, again. What a night!

Finally I woke and did the one remaining bit of changing, removing the breastforms and cleaning up, showering again and dressing at about eleven. I actually went out for breakfast at a café, I couldn't manage much but I felt better after it, the last of the hangover was gone. I walked back to the flat, quite pleased with myself, realising as I walked that I had a secret, that if any of the people I was walking past knew just what I'd done the previous night they would be very surprised indeed, probably incredulous, maybe even disgusted. I smiled inside.

When I got back I picked up one answer-phone message, one which rather surprised me.

'Hello. James? Mr Bowen here, just to tell you, sorry I didn't yesterday. That promotion you were asking about, I think you should go for it, you have a pretty good chance I think. Talk about it on Monday? OK? Enjoy the rest of the weekend. Bye.'

So he had come good, stuck to his promise. Maybe he'd managed to get his head together after the previous night. As I sorted through the girly clothes I realised I'd come away with Martha's little card-purse, she must have left it the previous week. A couple of pounds in it and a card or two, I put them to one side. And the key Nadine had lent me, I really should return them. I looked through the expense statements Mr Bowen had given me, just to check on the December one, I knew that had been rather large.

Then I realised. The January and February ones, they were missing. The other ten from the previous year, OK, but those two. And there was a small note, typed or printed like the messages I'd got on Thursdays. 'Kept a couple, just for extra security.'

Bastard! He wasn't going to let me off the hook. Then I got to thinking, I hadn't really any evidence against him, not anything concrete. Just memories. He could still, if he wanted to ....

Bloody bastard! I was fuming. All that I'd gone through, OK it had seemed demeaning and kinky at first but I'd enjoyed it later on. Enjoyed it a lot. Still, he had those two statements, still had a hold on me. So what could I do?

At which point another idea flashed through my mind. I looked down, seeing the key and the cards. I looked up at the wallpaper screen on my little laptop I'd just turned on, at the picture of Selena Slut, transvestite extraordinaire from New York, a picture I'd downloaded and put on my screen to enliven my computer time. Big busty redhead with long to-die-for legs. Redhead! And this time, within a few seconds only, a whole plan of campaign flashed through my mind. Yes! I'd get the fucking bastard! Literally.

It's rather surprising that it only took me about five hours to basically wrap up my entire life. Maybe it was me now who was a bit unhinged, rather deranged. It was a busy five hours though.

Packing up almost all my clothes, apart from one rather effeminate-looking sweater my mother had given me the previous Christmas. Must keep that. The rest, in two large bags, I deposited in the charity shop just down the road.

Packing my CDs or course, and my mini stereo.

Kitchen stuff, microwave etc, I thought about, but no, I wouldn't be needing those, Martin had a very well-equipped kitchen, with everything a woman could wish for.

Going online and paying off the electricity bill, then heading down the road again to the letting agents, giving in my notice, telling them I was so sorry but I had to leave in a hurry, personal reasons you understand.

Visiting Mrs Clarke next door but one, to tell her I was leaving, and that the flat was going to be vacant so maybe her brother in Newcastle would like to take it over,. She'd said she was looking locally so he and his family could live near to her. She was so grateful she hugged me. It also meant I'd not have to pay rent for the notice period, not if they moved in rapidly.

And ringing the office. I knew I'd get the answer-phone on a Saturday, telling them I'd had to move away suddenly and I was so sorry but I was sure they would understand, and I wouldn't be in on the Monday. Or ever again.

And then, finally, packing the few clothes I had left, including Martha's stuff, into my second suitcase. I slammed the door behind me, my entire life basically in two cases, and shoved them in the boot of my car. I could get rid of that too, I realised, though not yet.

Parking near the centre of town, shopping. No, SHOPPING! The first time I used the card I was nervous, in M & S. Three bras, two bra and panties sets (one black, one a lovely purple), five extra pairs of knickers. And two sweaters and two skirts and about ten pairs of assorted tights and stockings. Not many men shop for a load like that at M and S. But the moment the 'card accepted' sign came up and I wrote the 'M K Bowen' on the receipt I knew it would be OK. I'd burnt my boats. Forgery and fraud. But in a good cause.

Then more shopping after I'd dumped stuff in the car, Boots for cosmetics, New Look, thank the Lord for late-opening hours.

And so to the TV shop I'd been in before. More false tits, bigger ones this time, shoes and boots, several pairs, breast-form adhesive and solvent, three cans of each, the assistant in there was loving it, thinking of the commission probably. And then changing in the little dressing room upstairs there.

"That's six hundred and eighty pounds, please. Katie, did you say?"

The two assistants were looking at me, obviously again surprised. I felt good. I felt fucking marvellous, standing there signing 'K Bowen' again on the receipt, glad I'd practiced the signature quite a few times back in my flat. Or rather my ex-flat. I strode out, bags in hand, confident, beaming, oh-so happy. Now for the climax of the plan. Climax, yes surely there was never a more appropriate word.

I drove round to Claris Road. The house was dark, I knew Keith would be at the Golf Club until about eleven or at least I hoped so. I had a few hours to 'settle in'. I let myself in and took three trips to get my cases and bags up to the bedroom. Not Martha's room though. Not this time.

I hung up most of the stuff, thinking then that I'd have to rationalise some of Keith's clothes, I needed more hanging room. Specially with the shopping I had planned. Finally I re-did my make-up a little, more mascara, touched up my lipstick, did another coating on my deep red nails, and took off my jacket to hang it in the wardrobe. Then downstairs finally into the lounge, lit a cigarette and poured myself a vodka and tonic. Martha had been into rum-and coke, it was going to be vodka-and-tonic from now on for me. I had one drink and poured a second. 'OK', I thought, 'no more. I need a clear head for this'.

I heard the door. I stood in front of the fireplace, my back to the entrance.

"What the fuck?" came from outside. "James?" He'd seen the car.

He came in, I turned towards him. Standing straight, my enhanced boobs jutting out proudly, I smiled. "No, not James. Not today, not ever. Hello Keith my darling."

He looked. His mouth opened. Not surprising really, given the imposing looking Amazon facing him. Black ultra-high heeled shoes, the tallest in the shop in my size, with cruel-looking spiked heels, sheer seamed black stockings beneath a deep red leather micro-skirt, white flouncy blouse unbuttoned to show off my bosom. The assistant in the shop had reckoned I was about 40-EE with those breast-forms on. Heavily made-up, in a sense mutton dressed as lamb but the overall effect of the sexy clothing and the long deep red wig was, to say the least, striking.

It had worked in the pizza-shop when I had stopped there briefly on my way over, realising then I hadn't eaten since breakfast. The young man in there had been amazed at my appearance, he just couldn't take his eyes off my bulging boobs. And it worked now, on Keith.

"You fucking bastard!" Strange how he used exactly my own words when I'd been thinking about him. "What the hell do you think you're playing at, James?"

"James? JAMES?! How dare you? When you speak to me, Keith my darling, you will use my proper name. Your first wife was Kathy, wasn't she? Well then, I suppose I must be Katie. So call me Katie, or honey, or baby, or darling. OK?"

I didn't give him time to reply. I strode proudly across the room, threw my arms round his neck, and pressed my lips hard to his. Within seconds I had his mouth open, French kissing him forcibly. I'd seduced him once and he hadn't shown the proper gratitude so now I was going to rape him.

Inevitably he resisted. Or tried to. He's a big man, my Keith, often since then I've been told by other women how jealous they are, but I was more than a match. With high heels, big breasts and a lust to see his cock again he hadn't a chance. Within seconds he was more than joining in the kiss, we were both into some heavy-duty groping and fondling.

"Darling, you know you want me" I breathed into his ear as we separated briefly. I slid a hand down and unbuckled his trousers, pushing him onto the sofa as I pulled his cock free. Again not surprisingly it was erect. Again I wanted it, I wanted him, bastard though he was I wanted him so badly.

I gazed admiringly and with desire at that enormous straight hard cock once more. I just had to have it again. We rolled and settled into the deep luxurious couch, I knew I wouldn't have the chance to get him up to bed this time, it had to be done there and them. I kissed it, sliding my lusciously smooth red lips over the head and teasing the pre-cum, already evident, with my tongue.

"My God, oh my God, that is so ....Oooooh!"

I looked up at him through my long thick lashes.

"Martin, my love, I need you now. You want your wife, your new wife, your Katie?"

"Yeeeeeeees! oh yes, yes"

He was moaning, he was groaning, I tugged at his pants, his shirt, stripped him naked and renewed my assault, kissing and heavily groping his big body, feeling his muscles, feeling his ardour. His big strong hands were groping my thighs and sliding upwards. I managed to wriggle out of my skirt, I could feel him grabbing my panties, pulling them down. I turned to face him, caressing his lips with mine yet more.

"Darling, do you want my cock, honey, want your wife's cock?" He didn't answer, just grabbed my own erect tight penis in his mouth. I couldn't help it, I was SO aroused, I climaxed almost immediately, shooting hot cum deep into his mouth. When we kissed this time it was my cum, not his, flavouring our oral caresses. I teased his cock once more with my fingers, moved it to between my legs. 'OK, Katie' I thought. 'NOW'

"Fuck me, Martin my husband. Fuck me NOW"

"I can't, no, not that, I can't..."

I turned onto my back, lifted my legs to allow access to my love-hole, stared into his eyes. I spoke gently..

"Martin my love, I need you now, I need your gorgeous cock in me. Push it into me my baby, push it into my cunt, fuck me hard. YES!"

He did, he shoved it hard and deep, it slid right in, right up me, hard and SO deep, I was surprised it moved up me so smoothly but it did."

As a second 'gay'' experience it was really absolutely everything I wanted it to be, my heart was thumping, my forehead was sweating, my legs were aching as I tightly wrapped them round my lover's trembling body, I was in love, in lust, in such a state, somewhere I'd never been before, I knew it wasn't going to last but as Martin moved quickly to his climax I knew in my heart this wasn't going to be the last time that cock penetrated my 'cunt'.

As he ejaculated my body shook. My head spun. My toes curled. So many things happened at once, so many feelings, sensations. That's what it was. Sensational. The feeling of that long thick rod jerking and spurting deep inside me, the uncontrollable ecstatic reactions of my own body, the sight of my lover - my husband - leaning over me and pumping so hard and so deep. Well. Everything just combined to produce the most mind-blowing gut-wrenching fuck I had ever been involved in my entire life. If this was being gay, or being a woman, or being married, or whatever it was I wanted more, I knew this was going to happen again and again.

"Oh Christ Katie. KATIE!" shouted Martin as the last vestiges of his cum poured into me. "Christ baby, that was the best sex I ever had in my entire life."

We kissed. We smiled at each other, both very smug, very satisfied, very sated.

I got up first the following morning, kissing the man who had just become my husband. He stirred a little but dissolved back into slumber almost immediately. I crept into the bathroom, undressed, removed my make-up and showered.

Twenty minutes later, cleaned inside and out, refreshed, very carefully made up again and wearing a white plunging V-neck blouse and a tiny black leather skirt I'd bought the previous day, I sat beside Martin and shook him gently awake. He looked at me blearily until his eyes cleared a little, then smiled.

"I meant it, Katie. That was one hell of a fuck. The best sex I've ever had."

I smiled back. "I know, lover. And the first of many."

The doorbell rang. Martin jumped a little. "Shit. That'll be Jason. I forgot, all this going on. We're supposed to be playing golf this morning. Hell, I gotta dress."

Martin dashed into the bathroom. Now he hadn't entirely forgotten me, or maybe he had. I really didn't know, and don't know whether to really believe what he told me afterwards. But I realised. Jason? Never heard of him, but he'd do, he could be the first. The first to meet Martin's new wife that is. I trotted downstairs, checking my 'look' in the hall mirror. Yes. Perfect. Big revealed cleavage, slightly trashy jewellery, and a tight short skirt and high heels. Yes. Perfect wet-dream fodder.

"Hello. You must be Jason."

Jason's eyes opened wider. He really probably couldn't help it, he damn near leered at me. Actually from that very first moment I knew that, gay or straight, male or female, I could never ever fancy Jason. I'd never seen him before but he just looked so funny standing there. He was almost as tall as Martin but SO thin. And wearing such an appalling sweater, maybe his wife had knitted it for him. But, fancy him or not, I had a role to play.

"Do come in Jason, I'm Katie. Martin is almost ready, very sorry but - well..."

I grinned and tried to look embarrassed. ".... we had a very good night, if you know what I mean."

Martin came down the stairs, in something of a hurry. He looked slightly worried. In fact he looked very worried, at the sight of his transvestite 'partner' standing there with his golf partner, flaunting it for all she'd got. And in that outfit, it was obvious, I'd got a lot!

"Martin, darling. Don't worry. You just go off and have a good morning's golf, if you have the energy to walk all that way."

I kissed him, lightly on the cheek. "Have fun, lover. I'll be waiting for you when you get back. We've got years ahead of us my lover."

I kissed him once again. Hard and long, right there outside his front door. MY front door.

 

The end...

  

  

  

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