Kitten Club free porn video

My name is Frank and my girlfriend is Joanne. I'd never even heard of
the place, but it was her birthday, so her choice. When I found out
what went on there, I wouldn't have gone anywhere near it for a very
good reason I'll tell you about in a minute.

You wouldn't have even known the club was there. It was down this dark
alley, lit by a weak streetlight, and just a green door with "The
Kitten Club" above in a faulty old neon light. A couple of bouncers
looked twice at us but let us in.

Once we were through that door, we were into a different world
altogether. It was like nowhere I had ever been. There was music, but
not the din you get in most clubs, so loud you can't even hear yourself
speak. Just a pleasant volume so you could talk if you wanted to or
keep quiet and look if that was your desire.

There was a wonderful buzz about the place. A kitten showed you to a
table and took your order for drinks. When the club had first opened,
apparently the kittens had been dressed as you might imagine, in sexy
little basques with kitten ears and a tail. Stockings, high heels. But
these days they wore different costumes every night. One night the
kittens might be in sexy schoolgirl outfits, with just the right amount
of bare, pale flesh between their stocking tops and their short skirts.
Another time it might be Magic Night, with the kittens dressed as
magician's assistants or fairies, complete with wand. French maids,
Roman slave girls; it was always something different and the customers
loved it.

You sat down and watched as the kittens flounced around, mincing in
their high heels and flirting with the many male customers. The kittens
would go up to the bar, behind which stood a young guy. He would pour
the drinks, which they would take to the tables, knowing as they stood
at the bar that the customers were eyeing their pantied bums. After a
while, the cabaret would start, a sort of burlesque with dancing and
comedy.

The question is, of course, why would Joanne want to go to a place like
that? Does she want me looking at other women? Actually, her eyes lit
up at the very thought of the Kitten Club and when we got in there, she
loved it, and she loved the uneasy look on my face.

I was uneasy for one reason, which I'm sure you've guessed.

All the kittens were men.

I say men, but there wasn't anything masculine about them. Once upon a
time they may have been boys, but that was a long time ago. They'd
quite clearly all lost their masculinity. I didn't like to think about
exactly how they had lost their manhoods. And not only that. Judging by
the cleavage, and the lack of any sort of bumps in their groins (yes, I
looked) they were obviously on hormones or something. I dreaded to
think but I guessed some of them had even had their manhood chopped
off. What a thought.

I want to say here and now that I have absolutely nothing against
anyone of any sexual persuasion at all. Gay, lesbian, bisexual, tri-
sexual, it's all fine with me. Transgender, transsexual, transvestite,
whatever turns you on. No problem at all. Only to say that it's not
for me. I'm straight, always have been and always will be. And even
though I have nothing against people who are different in that way or
any other, I don't particularly want to spend time among them.

The thought of it makes my stomach turn. Think about it. Being a man is
a wonderful thing. He's strong, he's tough, he's male. He smells like a
man. It's nothing to be ashamed off. I'm one. And if that sounds gay,
it isn't. I don't want to get intimate with men, I want to be with
girls. We're very different, men and women, and that's what makes life
so great.

But there they were; these males who had thrown all that away just so
they could mince around in high heels and panties. And the thought of
what they got up to with the customers really made my stomach turn.

But as I say, live and let live. What goes on behind closed doors is
their business. If it works for them, go for it. Just don't include me.

But it was Joanne's birthday and if she wanted to go there, that was
what we were going to do. Just don't complain when I take you to the
football on my birthday, I said.

Joanne could see me squirming as we sat at our table. She could clearly
read my thoughts and that made her laugh. She was loving my discomfort.
"What's the matter, Frank?" she giggled. "Seen anyone you fancy yet?"

I didn't see the joke.

"Or perhaps you'd like to go a bit further. Is that it? I think you'd
look positively cute in that little outfit."

She pointed at one of the kittens. If I hadn't known, there was no way
I'd have known that kitten had ever been a male. He was dressed in the
shortest of white mini-skirts, so short it barely covered the white
knickers I could see he was wearing. White stockings and knee-high
white high-heeled boots. On top he wore just a white bra and he had
more in that bra than just padding. There was a definite shape to him.
You wouldn't say he had breasts like a woman but then again, you
wouldn't exactly say he had a chest like a man's. His waist was thin
and his hips were wider than the average male. He had slim shoulders
and very little musculature. Not exactly an hourglass figure, but
certainly not the straight up and down of a masculine outline. Must
have been the hormones. He was sort of half and half. Very definitely
unmale. His hair was dark and long and his make-up had been expertly
applied.

I wasn't going to keep quiet about this all night and I did feel the
need to make my position clear to Joanne.

"What sort of man would do that to himself?" I said. "Being a man is...
a wonderful thing. You don't just give it up. You're strong, physically
and mentally. I'm all for equality between the sexes but it's not for
nothing that men have always ruled the world."

She looked shocked.

"Yes. It's true. Anything positive that's been done in this world has
been done my males. A lot of negative as well, I give you, but it's
always men who control things. Don't look at me like that. You know I
think women are equal. They are. But the fact is, it's a man's world.
Who'd want to give all that up? To turn yourself into a female? Who'd
want to have their cock chopped off? It's unnatural."

Joanne snorted at that. I knew why she was laughing; she didn't have
to say. She was thinking about our sex life. I'm big enough to admit
this: I like the woman in charge. I like the woman to go on top and be
the sexually aggressive one. And while Joanne was always called Joanne
in normal day-to-day life, when we were in bed, it was occasionally
"Jo". I wondered if she heard it as "Joe".

She was thinking about all that and that's why she laughed. And there's
another thing. I don't particularly like to talk about this, but I
suppose I have to. I'm not the biggest boy in the world. It doesn't
bother me and Joanne has always said it doesn't bother her. It's not
how big it is, it's what you do with it. That's what she's always said.

One of these kittens bought us our drinks. His name was Colette, and
made sure he wiggled his bum in that mini-skirt as he walked through
the club. There were plenty of men looking at him lustily, something he
had no problem with. I heard someone call him a "complete doll" as
they stuck their hand up his skirt and fondled his upper leg, something
he didn't stop them from doing.

Even though I was talking to Joanne, I couldn't help but watch
everything that was going on around us.

As I said earlier, there was this boy behind the bar. About sixteen or
s*******n, probably too young to even be in a bar. I'm nineteen and I
was too young to be in a place like this myself. I don't think I'll
ever be old enough.

This lad was different to the kittens. He certainly was not one of
them. The kittens would mince up to him and the boy would get the
drinks, put them on a tray, and the kitten would sashay round the club
to the tables. He was dressed in white jeans and a tight white T-shirt.
There were a couple of men at the bar, buying drinks straight from him
and engaging him in conversation. Nothing unusual in all that. You'd
call him a "pretty boy". I wondered if he was gay but I decided that he
was not. Women like pretty boys as much as some men do.

I made up a story for him, like you do. I told myself that he was as
straight as me, and had taken this job because he needed the money. He
had to parade around in this slightly androgynous way, titillating the
male customers in a different way to the kittens, but doing it just the
same. He was probably appalled at having to do that. I imagined that he
had a girlfriend at home and was doing all this simply because it was a
job. I knew I might have been completely wrong, but that was the story
I invented for him.

We watched the show, which I quite enjoyed, I have to say. And I admit
I liked the atmosphere in the Kitten Club. It really was part of the
city's hidden underside. You know all these things go on, but often you
don't know where. Then you find out it's right under your nose and you
love the thought that you are in on something a bit secret or
exclusive. Almost like being in 1930s Berlin, I told myself. Anything
goes. The straight people are in the suburbs, tending their garden, and
we're here, in this neon-lit underworld where the wildest fantasies are
played out. I was happy to watch and not be part of it. Everyone was so
relaxed and friendly probably because we were all in on a secret. And I
liked that. It was so different from the cold and impersonal world on
the outside. I really didn't care what these kittens got up to. I don't
mind if they suck other men's cocks, even allow themselves to be... you
know. If it made them happy, then go for it. Just don't include me. I'd
quite happily go back to my home in the suburbs. But being a spectator,
seeing all these things go on, it did excite me, in a way. I have to
admit that. Disgust and horrify me as well, but it there was something
fascinating about it. Perhaps because it was so forbidden and hidden.

Colette came back to ask us if we wanted more drinks. I pointed out
that the barman seemed to have deserted his post, so we might have to
wait for our drinks.

"Charlie?" said Colette. "She's otherwise engaged for a few minutes,"
he said, winking at Joanne, who found it very funny.

"She?" I said. "Charlie looked the only bloke on the staff."

Cue more laughter from the pair of them.

"Just about now," said Colette, "he's finding out he isn't a "he" any
more. He's finding out it's much more fun as a "she"."

I had no idea what that meant.

When Colette had wiggled off, Joanne explained to me. "Weren't you
watching?" she said. "See that door over there, that red one? Charlie
went in there with that man from the bar."

"So?" I said.

"Are you an idiot or something?"

Obviously I was. But the penny did finally drop.

I kept an eye on the door and it eventually opened. Charlie came out.
He had this look on his face that I find it hard to describe. Slightly
embarrassed, as if people were watching him, which they were. He looked
confused but happy. But more than anything, I noticed his eyes were
almost popping out of his head.

"Post-coital," whispered Joanne.

"What?"

"She's just been fucked. As a girl."

"Don't be ridiculous," I said. "He, and he is a he, I don't know why
you are calling him anything different, may have had sex with that
bloke, I don't deny that, but what do you mean, as a girl? He's gay.
That's fine. I'm a bit disappointed in that, to tell the truth, but
live and let live. However, it was two blokes in there."

"Not any more," said Joanne. "Two guys may have gone in, but only one
came out. The other came out a female. You could tell from his...
sorry... her face. She's just had an orgasm. A female orgasm."

"Rubbish," I said.

But there was something funny about Charlie. A few moments later, the
man who had been in there with him came out with a very smug grin on
his face. He returned to his seat at the bar and high-fived the person
next to him.

"I think that was actually her first time," whispered Joanne.
"Charlie's just lost her cherry."

A couple of kittens went up to Charlie and spoke to him. He couldn't
stop a little smile from creeping across his face, which was the cue
for one of the kittens to hug him. The other one joined in. It wasn't
the sort of embrace that men would do, say in a sports situation where
one of them has just scored a goal, or the hug of two old friends who
haven't seen each other for years. It was a girly hug between the three
of them.

One of the kittens produced some sort of garment. I couldn't quite see
what it was, except that it was white. The kitten smiled and handed
whatever it was to Charlie. He seemed to be expecting it. I could see
what it was.

Oh no.

Charlie took off his t-shirt, and put the thing on.

It was a bra.

The kittens helped him adjust it until it was comfortable. They also
played with his hair, trying to put it in place for him. It was
ridiculous. Whatever had happened to Charlie in that room, he certainly
hadn't come out with tits.

The man, the one he had been in the room with, bought a drink off him
and looked at Charlie as if he owned him. It was worse than that. He
did possess Charlie. The man had "had" him. Charlie looked at him in
this slightly embarrassed, eyes down way that a woman looks at a man
when they've just had illicit sex. He tucked his hair behind his ear,
in just the way a woman does, and fingered his nipple through his bra.
The man loved it.

I felt Joanne put her hand on my leg. She worked it up to my groin.

"Well, well well," she said. "Our little friend here seems to like
Charlie, and what has just happened to her."

She had to work her fingers into my groin to find it. I wish she hadn't
said "little".

"I think you'd look cute in that bra," she continued. "And," she said,
feeling my swelling penis, "I think our little friend would like to see
you in a bra as well."

"Dream on," I said. She was just trying to wind me up.

Despite my misgivings, we did have a great time at the Kitten Club.
There wasn't the normal hassle of nightclubs, and I have to admit I was
very taken with what I'd call the decadence of it all. Most of all, we
just liked the atmosphere.

Later in the evening, when it was a bit quieter, Colette did sit down
and speak to us, making sure he crossed her legs high up at the thigh,
in the female fashion. I couldn't help but ask exactly what was going
on. I knew they were men, males at least, boys was perhaps a better
term, but those breasts did look mighty real. What was it, hormones or
surgery?

Colette laughed. "Which century are you from?" she laughed. He
explained that in the past, they would have had to take female
hormones, male hormone blockers, pills, and have all sorts of surgery,
both taking things away and adding other things. Joanne laughed when he
said it like that. But these days, it was much simpler, safer and more
effective. There was a d**g that had been developed in America that
would "make some changes" as he put it, depending on the person who was
taking it. It wasn't even really a d**g, he said.

If you were totally one hundred per cent male, with no female in you at
all, and there weren't many of those, said Colette, the d**g would have
no effect. You could take as much of it as you wanted, and nothing
would happen. However, if there was a part of you that was female, the
d**g would bring that out. Colette said he was a firm believer in
reincarnation, and that he had been a woman in previous lives.
Therefore, there was plenty of female in him. He had started taking the
d**g just to find out, and within a few days the beginnings of a perky
little pair of breasts had started to appear. Shaving had become less
and less necessary, and he had found himself losing weight. His "thing"
as he put it, had got smaller but hadn't disappeared completely. He was
now at the point where he had to decide whether to hurry the process
up. I knew what that meant.

His, and he looked at Joanne as he said this, thing had been quite big,
and it was hanging on for dear life. Now he was thinking of a trip to
somewhere like Thailand, from which he would come back "being able to
wear a thong without worrying about it."

"Why don't you try the pills?" Colette said to me.

"Yes!" said Joanne. "Prove your manhood once and for all!"

"No way," I said. "Absolutely, not a chance in hell."

They both giggled.

"That's because he's scared," said Joanne. "He doesn't know what's
going to happen. He might be a girl after all."

"Don't you mean SHE'S scared," said Colette, and the two of them fell
about the place laughing.

"If you're all man," said Colette, "this will confirm it. Nothing will
happen."

"I don't need it confirmed," I said. "I'm quite sure of my sexuality
thank you very much. And I think it's about time we were going, don't
you?"

"Well, if you're worried that you'll change sex, you'd better not take
it. If you can't deal with it, better off denying it, eh?" said Joanne.

"Sometimes," said Colette, "men, real men that is, they take the pill
and it enhances their masculinity. Their thingies actually get bigger.
True."

"He could certainly use that," said Joanne.

Thanks very much, lover. No, I won't be taking your tablets, I said.
And it's not because I'm scared of what might happen. I was quite happy
in my sexuality and I didn't have to prove anything to anyone. The pair
of them carried on giggling in that way girls do when they think
they've got something over a man.

Soon it was time to go home.

Joanne was clearly quite turned on by the whole thing. We got a taxi
home and she was ready for her birthday shag. We'd always had a pretty
healthy sex life. As I said, I don't mind it when she takes the lead.
The game was that we would have a bit of a struggle, I would let her
win the fight, and she'd end up on top, holding me down and fucking me.
I could have pushed her off of course, but she did get off on that sort
of thing. So did I, to tell the truth.

But that night, she went much further. She wanted to "role play".

"So," she said, pinching my bum as we walked into the flat. "You liked
that, didn't you, Frankie?

"Do you like being called that, Frankie? Or perhaps you'd rather
Francesca, or Francine. Or are you one of those girls who like to leave
their past behind, and take a completely different name? How about
Louise? You look like a Louise. What would you like me to call you,
lover?"

"Frank," I said. Don't get me wrong. I was up for the shag. I knew I
had to play along for a while.

"Oh, I don't think that's a very good name for my own personal kitten,"
she said, unbuttoning my shirt. She fingered my nipple and tweaked it.
I admit I did gasp a bit. In one sense it was quite painful, but in
another very nice. I'd never had my nipples tweaked before.

"Mmm," she said. "She likes that, doesn't she?" She moved to my other
nipple and got the same response.

"I'm the man around here," I said.

"We'll see about that," she said. She pushed me onto the sofa and sat
on top of me. She undid my shirt and had a look at my nipples.

"Hasn't she got nice little boobies," she said. All of a sudden she was
on them. With her mouth. Licking. Nibbling. It's hard to admit but I
loved it. I can imagine how women feel when they have their boobs
teased and licked. If this feels so good to me, what must it feel like
for a person with a proper pair of boobs?

We both undressed and when she got her bra off, she laid it across my
chest.

"There we are," she said. "Doesn't she look nice in her bra?"

I was well away with it all. Typical man, the blood that makes my cock
as stiff as a rod has clearly drained from my brain. I wasn't aware of
anything, except I wanted Joanne to impale herself on it. Which she
did. Obviously, she had enjoyed all she had seen at the Kitten Club,
and she gave me the humping of my life. I could tell what she was
thinking. Even though it was my cock buried inside her, she was
imagining that it was the other way round. She didn't have to say
anything. I even started to imagine that myself. There I was,
underneath, my partner fucking me, and it was easy to imagine the cock
was attached to her instead of me.

One of the differences between the sexes is that men come down from
their sexual high with a bump. Immediately after I came, I felt very
guilty and almost dirty. Joanne's bra was still more on me than it was
her, so I threw it off. I lifted her off me, something I could have
done at any time before but didn't choose to, and got myself ready for
bed. Joanne knew that I was feeling a bit dirty so, to give her credit,
she didn't make a big thing of it. But I couldn't help notice a cruel
little smile on her face. A smile that said something had changed
between us. It was there as we got into bed, and it was still there in
the morning.

"See you later, babe," she said to me as she left for work. Not totally
out of order, a woman calling her man "babe". But more usual for a man
to call a woman that. And there was no doubt that this what Joanne had
intended. However, I wasn't going to worry. If it brought a bit of
excitement into our love life, something new, that was a good thing. It
meant I could get my end away more than ever

I have to admit I did think rather a lot about the Kitten Club over the
next few weeks. It was all so different to everywhere else in the city.
It was so exotic, so new. As you walked out of the cold and unfriendly
street, through that door into the forbidden and hidden chamber, you
got a thrill. Joanne was working late quite a lot and one night I
stopped off at the Kitten Club on the way home. Just for a relaxing
drink.

It was "fairy night" and the kittens were dressed as a fairies,
complete with diaphanous short skirt, frilly top, and magic wand. And
they were certainly enjoying themselves.

A whole range of emotions flooded through me when I saw Charlie, the
barman from the other night. Then, he had been dressed in this
androgynous way, the sort of thing a gay man would find attractive, but
not totally gay in itself, until he had put that bra on.

If I was hoping, and I was, that he had felt disgusted with himself and
had suddenly reasserted his masculinity, I was wrong. Charlie wasn't
wearing a T-shirt tonight. He wasn't even wearing his jeans. He was
wearing the fairy outfit. He'd been turned into a kitten. And he had
what looked very much like the beginnings of cleavage.

I know women have all sorts of tricks with bras to make it look as if
their tits are bigger. Pushed together, pulled apart, pushed up. But I
wasn't sure you could make it look like you had tits if you were
completely flat-chested. But that was what Charlie appeared to have
done. Looking at him in this top, you'd swear that couldn't all be
done with tape, or with a sock stuffed in each cup. Obviously, that's
what it must have been, though. The other night he'd just been a boy,
albeit a slightly effeminate one. All right, I'm not that naive. I
accept we'd seen him lose his manhood. He'd clearly enjoyed it and had
probably had sex with a string of other men since. I'm sure they would
have been queuing up to have their way with this girly-boy. But even if
Charlie had started taking these pills straight away, there was no way
he would have breast development in those few days.

He was also wearing make-up. Not over the top cosmetics that would make
him look like a drag queen, but just a touch of lipstick on his
pouting, but still male lips. I know about as much about make-up as I
do about bras, but it was clear he had done his face, or had it done
for him. Foundation, blusher, eye-shadow and mascara, all done very
tastefully.

And didn't the customers love it. They were getting in line to get
their drinks from Charlie, and making sure he saw the big tip they
pressed into his hand. What they were hoping for in return, I dreaded
to think, but whatever it was Charlie looked as if he was happy to
provide it

I noticed the man who had gone into the room with him the other night.
His eyes were casting around the club.

A couple of times I even caught him looking at me.

With Charlie getting all the attention, it meant the other kittens had
more time on their hands than they had the other night, and Colette,
the one who had served us, had time to have a chat with me.

"Pretty, isn't she?" she said. I have to call Colette a "she". I can't
think of him as a man.

"Who?" I replied.

"Charlotte."

"You mean Charlie?"

"He was called Charlie, that's right," said Colette as if she had
difficulty remembering. "She doesn't like that any more. Now she's
called Charlotte. She's actually taken a job as a kitten now. Pretty,
isn't she?"

I agreed. She... sorry... he was certainly pretty.

Normally, I wouldn't have asked about Charlie's "cleavage". But I did
want to know because it seemed so real. I don't know if it was because
I had had a couple of drinks, or the relaxed atmosphere of the Kitten
Club, but it just came out. I asked Colette about Charlie's tits. Had
they really grown that quickly?

"Blossoming, isn't she?" said Colette.

I couldn't help but ask what happened in the trouser department.

"You seem to be very interested in it, lover," she said. "Are you sure
you don't want to give it a try? You might like it. It's much more fun
this way. Girls have much more than boys. Really. Do you want to try
the pills? There's no risk. What happens depends on you. With you, it
might just disappear altogether. Give up the ghost. I wasn't that
lucky."

"You said you were thinking of ... you know," I said, looking down at
her groin.

She laughed. She put her fingers together to make a pair of scissors.

"Snip, snip!" she said. "You seem very interested it. A little too
interested if I may say so. I'm so glad I don't have that awful male
pride any more. Who's got the biggest dick, all that. You're much
better off without one. But as I say, there's still a little bit of boy
in me, or on me, sad to say. I think I will have to have the snip."

What a thing for a man to say. Let me stress, I have no problem with
people behaving in whatever way they see fit, but a man wanting to have
his manhood chopped off? It's unnatural.

"I always knew with Charlotte, of course," she said. " When Charlie
started here, he said he was straight. Straight-ish, anyway. Even had a
girlfriend. God knows what she made of Charlie. He said he was only
doing it because he needed a job. But I knew. I asked him straight
away, if he wanted to screw one of the kittens. He said that he didn't.
I knew he was telling the truth. So I said there were only two reasons
anyone came into the Kitten Club. One was to screw a kitten."

"And what's the other reason?" I said.

"Well, let me ask you. Did you come here to screw a kitten?"

"No," I said.

"I didn't think so."

"So what's the second reason for coming here?" I asked.

"Because you want to become one."

She looked straight at me, as if she could see into my soul. I could
feel myself going red and getting a little hot.

"It's okay, you know," Colette said. "It's the most natural thing in
the world. You might not think so yourself, but I can tell. Look at
me. I was working on a building site before I started here. Can you
believe that?"

She flexed her arm muscles, if you could call them that. The answer to
his question was no, I couldn't see her working on a building site.
With thin little arms like that, she simply wouldn't be strong enough.

"What happened? How did you end up like this?" I said.

Colette couldn't help but smile. "You want to know the truth?" I did.

"I got a taste for cock."

She looked at me, daring me to disapprove or be offended. I wasn't, so
she carried on.

"I wouldn't say I was ever gay, or anything like that, but I suppose I
must have been. I'd always had girlfriends, although I must say I
always preferred it with the other person on top, if you know what I
mean."

I coloured up again, thinking of what had happened with me and Joanne,
but I don't think she noticed.

"I've always been the one who wants to be fucked and not do the
fucking. And then we were in this house, clearing it out to be
refurbished. A woman had left some clothes behind. I was just looking
at them. Underwear, bras, that kind of thing. There was this bloke on
the building site — he was an absolute brute, Frankie — and he said I'd
look pretty good in those knickers. It was a very strange feeling. So
intense. It was like there was some force, commanding me to put them
on. I couldn't stop myself. I did try but it was like I was hypnotised.
To cut a long long story short, I did look good in the knickers. He
thought so anyway. Before we knew it, he was all over me. That brute
took my virginity, Frankie. Well, I gave it to him. Gave him my cherry.
Someone saw us, and that was it for my career as a building site
labourer. I could hardly carry on in that environment when I'd been
seen wearing a nightie sucking the foreman's cock. I knew about this
place, so here I am. All the girls here will have a similar story. And
look at us. Be truthful, have you ever seen a happier bunch of people?"

I hadn't thought about it in that way but Colette was absolutely right.
They all looked very satisfied in their new skins. Even Charlotte.
Sorry, Charlie.

"But don't you think," I said, pointing to Charlie, "that it's sort of
sad? Being a man is a thing. I'm not talking about being a tough guy,
or a smart arse, or whatever, just a regular normal guy. Men get a bad
press. It's a female world, more and more now. I know that. People
think there's something wrong in being a male, but there isn't. And
there's someone who's given it up."

Given it up he certainly had. Charlie was out collecting glasses from
the tables and as he attended to one table, one of the customers came
up behind him. He pushed his groin right into Charlie's bum and reached
round to pick him up with both arms. One hand found its way into
Charlie's bra, and the other down the front. Charlie wriggled as if he
wanted to get away. But by wiggling his bum like that, all it did was
make the man's erection even bigger and harder, a fact not lost on
Charlie. The man was grinding himself in Charlie's bum and Charlie
seemed to be enjoying it.

I was worried by the way Colette was speaking to me. Just her tone of
voice, the way she was sitting. It was confidential, trusting. What
worried me was that this was not the way the kittens behaved with the
customers, the ones who wanted to fuck them. With those people, Colette
and the other kittens were flirty, sexy. With me, it was just like we
were having a girly chat.

That wasn't the only time I went to the Kitten Club. Joanne seemed to
be working late more and more often, so I'd often pop in there, if only
for a quick drink. As for the sex with Joanne, that had certainly
received a boost by our recent experiences.

One night we were sitting watching the television and Joanne said to
me: "What are you doing?" I wasn't doing anything, and I told her so.
"Look," she said, pointing to my chest. I hadn't even noticed it myself
but I was fingering my nipple. "Bring them over here," she ordered.
"Bring what?" I said. "Bring them over here," she repeated herself. I
knew perfectly well what she was talking about, so I went over to where
she was sitting. I started to undo my shirt but she told me to stop.

"It's much more fun if I do it," she said. She did so, and started to
kiss and nibble on my nipples.

"Hold on a minute," she said, and she got something out of her bag. She
tried to push a pill into my mouth.

"Joanne!" I said. "What the hell do you think you are doing?"

"What's with the Joanne?" she said. "It's Joe when we are like this.
That's Joe with an "E". And that's the matter? Afraid?"

This was the first time she had actually spoken about the Jo or Joe
thing. I knew I was right.

"I'm not taking a pill that will turn me into a woman," I said.

"Aah, you admit it: it would turn you into the girl you are inside.
You're afraid. If you were a man, if you are a man, it won't make any
difference."

"I am a man."

"Then prove it."

I'd had enough of this.

"For fuck's sake," I said. I grabbed the pill and swallowed it.
"There," I said. "Look. I haven't suddenly grown tits."

She smiled an evil smile. I knew what she was thinking. That we would
soon see. But I knew perfectly well why I had taken that pill. Just to
shut her up. There was obviously no way anything was going to happen to
me.

Not a chance in hell.

Before I knew it I was on my back on the living room floor with her on
top of me, insisting that I call her Joe as she called me Frankie. As I
say, whatever turns you on. It turned her on, that was for sure. And
like any man, I wasn't going to say no.

There was one night at the Kitten Club where they were having what you
might call a roman toga party. Or at least the girls were. There we go.
Did you see that? I called them girls. Well, that night all the kittens
certainly looked like girls. Anyway, the costume was a very short,
lightweight white dress, off the shoulder, with a thin golden thread
belt and golden high heel open sandals.

Charlotte looked as if she had been wearing such clothes her whole
life. One of the customers touched her chest. Charlotte giggled like a
schoolgirl and pulled back but the man persisted in touching
Charlotte's chest, which didn't exactly displease her.

Yes, I know. I'm calling Charlie by the name of Charlotte, and I'm
referring to him by the feminine pronoun. It seemed appropriate.

Colette came over to speak to me.

"Frankie," she said, "Can you do me a favour. Do you mind?"

"Almost certainly not. I'll do a favour for my friend. What is it?"

"Well, you see honey, it's like this. As you can see, Charlotte has
actually outgrown her role as barman now. We only keep her behind the
bar because we haven't got anyone else to take over. We've got somebody
coming for the job tomorrow, but I wonder if you'd mind, I know it's a
big thing to ask, but I wonder if you'd mind being our barman tonight?
It's really easy. All you have to do is open bottles of beer for the
customers. Take the money. Keep your tips. We'd pay you as well,
obviously."

"Watch my lips, Colette. I'm not a kitten. I never will be."

"Oh of course honey. That goes without saying. I was just having a bit
of fun with you the other night. But it would allow Charlotte to wait
on tables all the time, and she really wants to do it. She should be
doing it by now, but we just haven't been able to find a barman. If you
could do it tonight, you'll be doing her a massive favour. And me. You
wouldn't have to wear anything. Not if you didn't want to. You can wear
the clothes you've got on, if you want. I mean, if you did want to wear
something, we could find it."

"I keep telling you. It's ridiculous. Do I look like a kitten?"

"I won't answer that. But you're right. You'd just be a regular barman.
Will you do it? It's good fun. And you'll get loads of money."

I shrugged. That was all it took. If I hadn't been prepared to do it,
all I had to do was say. And I didn't. Ten minutes later I was behind
the bar. Needless to say, I turned down her offer to "find something
for me to wear".

I was wearing my normal clothes, although she did insist on putting a
clip on the back of my T-shirt to make it tighter. She said it would
double my tips. I was just to ignore any comments from customers. They
didn't mean the things they said. Just to keep up appearances, everyone
would call me Frankie rather than Frank, but that didn't mean anything.
Plenty of red-blooded heterosexual males who'd been christened Francis
called themselves Frankie. Colette gave me a stiff drink to settle my
nerves and before I knew it I was behind the bar of the Kitten Club.

Joanne didn't need to know about this.

It was ridiculously easy. Mostly the kittens would come up and order
the drinks to take to the tables. Charlotte was loving her new job.
She'd come back to the bar with her knickers stuffed full of money,
where the customers had put her tips, while having a good feel and
pinch at the same time. She came behind the bar and showed me and the
kittens her panty-enclosed bum, which was all red. She didn't seem to
mind.

The man who had fucked her that first night was there again. Whenever I
turned round, he was looking at me. He had asked me my name and I'd
said, as per my instructions, that it was Frankie. He introduced
himself as Rod. No man had ever looked at me in the way Rod was looking
at me and it made me feel very nervous. It was as if I was just an
object for him to look at. When I turned around I could feel his eyes
on my bum and when I faced him he looked me up and down as if all he
had to was jump over the bar and take possession of me.

I tried to give him his change but he just held on to my hand, stroking
it, and said I could keep it. When I pulled back, he laughed. It was a
strange experience. One that women, and indeed the kittens, go through
every day of their lives. I wanted to tell him that I was different to
the rest. I wasn't a kitten, and unlike, say Charlotte, I had
absolutely no intention of becoming one. I felt like saying that I had
a girlfriend at home and we had a perfectly normal relationship. Very
healthy sex life. But I couldn't do that. It would have shattered the
illusion of the Kitten Club. And even though I was only working there
for the one night, I didn't want to do that. It wouldn't have been
fair.

I asked Colette about this Rod bloke. She explained that he was one of
the club's resident studs. He had taken this d**g himself, just to see
what happened, and there had been no change him at all. If anything, he
had become more male.

"I'm afraid we're almost all notches on Rod's belt, Frankie. All the
girls. He's likes them fresh. He told me I was like a nice ripe cherry
on the tree, and he was going to pluck me off and have me. Which he
did. Out of all the kittens we've ever had, I'd say he's had about
ninety per cent of us. Many of those, he's broken in himself. But when
he's had you, he moves on. He's like that. He gets off on turning you
out. What do you think? Do you fancy him?"

I was really annoyed at that. Furious. I was doing this as a favour, I
told her, and I didn't need her saying things like that. I walked back
to my post behind the bar. Did I fancy a man? What a question to ask a
man like me.

I don't know why it was, but I kept on looking at Rod, and he kept
looking at me. I found myself up his end of the bar much more than
perhaps I should have done. I didn't talk to him, I didn't want to.

But I couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to be the latest
notch on Rod's belt. I forced that thought from my mind. It was
disgusting.

Over the next few weeks working behind the bar of the Kitten Club
became a regular thing.

I don't quite know how it happened. Perhaps it was the fact that Joanne
hadn't been at home much lately. Perhaps it was that I did like going
to the Kitten Club. Their new barman never did turn up, so I was the
only option. Perhaps it was the extra money I was generating in tips.
Obviously, I didn't get as much as the likes of Charlotte and Colette.
All they had to do was look at a man and he would start sticking twenty
pound notes in their clothing. I wouldn't want that.

One thing you want to know about: these pills had absolutely no effect
on me. There. Perhaps you were expecting the opposite. I know Joanne
was, in a weird sort of way. What sort of girl would want her boyfriend
to turn female? One thing I've learned is never to try and understand
what women do. Let them get on with it. And yes, when I wrote, just
above, it was pills in the plural rather than the singular, it was
deliberate. Joanne had make me take three or four. Nothing.
As far as I was concerned, that proved it. I was man, all man, and
nothing bad man. How disappointed they were.

One night I arrived for work and Colette invited me into one of the
back rooms, a sort of dressing room for the kittens. She asked my how I
liked it at the club, and I said I didn't mind it at all, which was the
truth. Getting paid, and paid well, for standing in a bar was my idea
of a good job.

"And you don't mind the... attention?" she said.

I said I could handle it.

"How do you think the customers view you?"

I knew what she was getting at. I started to explain that as a straight
man, I was probably something of a fantasy for them. I'd also been
called a pretty boy in the past. By girls. I wasn't so stupid to think
that the men who came into the club accepted me as a heterosexual male,
but I was playing a game, and it was a lucrative one as well. Even
though there was not the slightest possibility that I've ever "do"
anything with them, they would like to think that I would, and that
turned them on.

She nodded but I could see she thought I was just blabbing. There was
something on her mind. I asked what it was.

"Don't you think you look a bit..." She cast a disapproving look at my
clothes. I was wearing the same stuff I always wore to the club now.
Tight jeans and T-shirt. Trainers.

"A bit what?" I said.

"A bit... male?"

I asked her what she meant and explained that I had this little theory
that if I dressed in that way, male, but every so slightly androgynous,
it would work. I'd get tips. They'd think they had a chance with me,
even if they didn't. Colette wasn't listening again.

"Why don't you try these?" she said. She held up a pair of cycling
shorts. Well, not proper black cycling shorts with a padded bum and all
that, but white lycra shorts that were tight, tight, tight in all
places. As if happened, I'm quite a keen cyclist and wearing cycling
shorts is something that I've always done. So I was less reluctant than
I might have been. I put them on. Much to her disappointment, I didn't
come over all girly. I was just wearing cycling shorts.

I still had my white T-shirt on.

"You have actually got the most perfect abs," she said. Now that did
please me. I had worked long and hard on my abdomen muscles. Not that I
had a six-pack. I didn't work them in that way. The exercises I did
strengthened my inner core and gave me great shape around my tummy.
Joanne loved it. I was about to tell Colette about all that but she
interrupted me. "Let's put them on show. Try this on."

She handed me another white garment.

"It's a bra," I said.

"It is not a bra," she insisted. "It's a sports top."

"It's a bra," I said. "Okay, it's a sports bra, but it" still a bra.
Joanne wears them."

"It's just a top. It just shows off your abs. Just try it on. For me,"
she said.

"Look," I said. "I know what you are doing. It's fine, it really is. I
know you don't believe me, but I'm genuinely not gay. There is nothing
waiting to be woken up inside me. I'm straight. And I don't want to be
a kitten. And I'm not going to become one. I've taken the bloody pills,
and I'm still a man. Always will be."

"But you like it here," she said.

"I don't mind it," I replied. "But I'm not wearing a bra. For one
thing, I haven't got boobs. Look."

I held up my T-shirt to show my nipples. I knew that was a mistake as
soon as I'd done it. Joanne had... ahem... got a taste for my nipples
over the past few weeks and they were red and bit puffy. Not to say
itchy. I'd rubbed cream in them to ease the discomfort, but it was
plain for all to see that these weren't the placid and ignored nipples
you see on your average man.

"My God, what have you been up to?" she said, inspecting my chest. I
tried to explain but the argument was already lost. Within a couple of
minutes, I was pulling the thing over my head and putting it in place.
I suppose I could have made out it was a crop top, although I don't
know many men who wear them. It covered most of my chest and finished
at about my sternum, leaving my tummy bare, and my shoulders as well.
It was just as well I was quite fit. It would have looked terrible with
a flabby stomach sticking out, or saggy arm muscles.

When I say I wore trainers to the club, I did, but they weren't the
usual dirty pair of trainers you'd wear to the gym. They were new
(bought with my tips) and a very bright white. So there I was, in my
new outfit. White cycling shorts, a sports top and white trainers and
socks. The men in the club would love it, especially Rod, who seemed to
spend most of his time staring at me. The white outfit would be picked
out by the club's lights, just like all the kittens. Colette flicked my
hair out of my face and even wanted to put a clip in it, but I drew the
line at that. In fact, I was long overdue for a haircut and I promised
myself I'd go the barber the next day.

"Can I ask you a question?" I said to Colette. "Have you... you
know..."

"What?"

"Have you..."

"Spit it out, doll."

"Have you had it chopped off?"

She laughed.

"You seem particularly fascinated with that, Frankie. You never talk
about anything else. Are you thinking you'd like to have that done?
You should do. It's the most wonderful thing in the world, Frankie. To
answer your question: yes. I've had myself castrated."

I gasped.

"Didn't you notice? I was off for a week."

I said that they told me she'd had a cold. I realised how naive I'd
been. Why Charlotte and the others had been smiling when they told me
about Colette's "cold".

"It can be done so quickly?" I said. "You were only away a few days."

"It's a lot easier these days. A minor operation."

"God!" I said. "What's it like? I mean, how does it feel?"

She thought about it before answering. "It's so much more... free.
When you've got something down there you don't want and suddenly it's
gone, it's like having a rotten tooth taken out. I just want to touch
it all the time. Prove to myself that it's gone.

"And having sex as a woman is about... a hundred times better than as a
male. The bloke has to do all the work. Imagine that? All you have to
do is lie there and let things be done to you. If it's no good, it's
his fault, he's the one who's got to perform. It's his job to please
you. And when you have an orgasm... my God! It's not all quick, like it
is when you are a bloke. It goes on for ages! You almost pass out with
joy. And then, if he's good, he keeps going, and you have one after
another. There's no waiting to recharge the batteries, like with
blokes. You haven't lived until you've had a multiple orgasm, Frankie.
You should try it."

"Yeah well," I said, "I don't ever intend finding out."

"Don't knock it if you haven't experienced it," she said.

Rod didn't wait to show his appreciation of my new wardrobe when I went
out onto the floor. There was something about him that said all this
was inevitable, and he had known about it all along.

"I think I'm about to come," he said as looked me up and down. I
ignored him and got on with my work.

A few minutes later, I saw Charlotte come out of the back room,
followed by one of the customers. It was obvious what they had been
doing.

"How about you and me go in there?" said Rod.

"In your dreams," I said. I was surprised I had used that phrase. It
wasn't the sort of thing I would normally say to a man. I suppose it
was almost flirtatious. I didn't want to flirt with a man. He took my
comment as a come-on.

"Yes, in my dreams," he said. "And before long, in my reality too. And
yours, Frankie."

I smiled in a way that a barman, well not a barman, but a barmaid,
would smile at a customer who was getting a bit fresh. A little purse
of the lips, a flash of the eye.

"You know what I'm going to do to you, Frankie?" he said, carrying on
before I had the chance to answer. "I'm going to teach you to come."

"Is that right?"

"Indeed it is. I don't mean come like a man comes. Like a boy comes.
All cock. I'm going to teach to come like a woman comes. When I'm
fucking you, Frankie, you'll feel you're going to explode with
pleasure. You'll probably pass out because it's so good. I'll take my
time. It's better, they tell me, from the female side. Well, they
would, wouldn't they? This lot in here, they start as little boys who
are not quite sure what they are, but once they've been with me, they
realise they are not quite the man they thought they were. And that's
what's going to happen to you, Frankie. Once they've been with a man, a
real man, you'll realise you're not one. I'm going to awaken the woman
in you. Once you've come like a woman, Frankie, once you've had that
female orgasm, you'll realise what I'm talking about. And then things
won't quite be the same. You'll never look at another woman quite the
same again. And you'll certainly never look at a man the same way.
You'll be thinking if he is "the one". Can he make me come in the same
way that Rod did? That's what you'll be thinking. In all modesty, I
wonder if he could. The first time is the best, Frankie. Come on, let's
you and me go in that room. You won't regret it. And you know it."

"No thanks," I said.

"And do you know what, Frankie? When the two of us do get together,
it's going to be all your idea. You'll be begging for it. You know
that's true, don't you?"

He kept it up for quite a while. I have to admit, I did wonder what it
would be like. To have a man's penis in my mouth. To lick it. And then
for him to put it... God! What I am I thinking! I walked away from Rod
and served at the other end of the bar.

But that didn't stop him, of course. Underneath it all, he actually
seemed quite a nice bloke, and later he apologised if he had offended
me, and offered a tip. I put out my hand to take it, but he drew it
back.

"As a celebration of your new way of dressing," he said. He slipped the
twenty pound note in my top, making sure, of course he rubbed his
fingers against my nipple as he did so. He then slipped another one on
the other side. My chest now had two little bumps in it, which Colette
certainly noticed. But I soon took the money out and flattened down the
top.

God knows what Joanne would do if she could see me now. Dressed up as a
gay man's wet dream. Not even that. Gay men had their own fantasies. I
was the wet dream of a certain kind of man. The type who liked femme
boys. People like Rod, who liked boys who were not quite boys anymore.
But Joanne could hardly complain. For one, it was her who brought me
here, and two, where was she now? Working. Again.

One side of me didn't like what I was doing. That side of me wanted to
take the top off, and the shorts, and put proper clothes on again. A
suit and tie. Brogues. Obviously, I was going to change into my own man
clothes to go home.

But that was only one side of me. There was another side. It's really
difficult to admit and I hated this about myself. But I noticed the way
the straps felt on my shoulders, and the way it came around my back. I
didn't want to admit it to myself. It felt good but it wasn't just
that.

There was no point in me saying I was wearing a pair of cycling shorts
and a top. I was in denial. The truth was I in a pair of shorty-shorts
and a bra. Not a frilly bra, with flowers and lace but a bra
nevertheless.

It didn't just feel good. It felt great

But it was more than that.

It hate to say it but it the phrase I am looking for is that it felt...
right. That these were the clothes that I should be wearing.