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If reading this story offends you or the law, do what I do, don't. Choices by Vickie Tern I was so miserable I felt like crying. A single sob escaped, but I stifled it, couldn't allow it. I was terribly worried yet there was nothing to do but wait. There never was. Sit in the living room, turn on the tube, turn pages in some magazine, wait. Ignore all sorts of hysterical fears. Finally realize I'd been dozing in my chair, and wake to hear her key scratching in the lock. This time it was nearly three a.m. Her meetings rarely lasted this long. Usually they began and ended early and she was home by midnight. This time there were still gleams of daylight in the sky when she'd given me her usual quick light kiss on the cheek and her usual "G'bye for now honey. No, you're sweet but don't muss me. And please, this time don't wait up. I'm not sure when, but you know, I'll be home when I'm home!" True enough. But once past midnight I couldn't help worrying. She stood in the hallway a moment, her topcoat hooked over her shoulder with one finger, saw me sitting and looking at her, glanced wistfully up the stairs toward our bedroom, then reluctantly came in to join me. She looked tired, yet in some obscure way satisfied. Her dress wasn't much wrinkled this time but her hair was mostly undone, coils and strands hastily pushed back up off her face. Obviously she'd rather we talked in the morning, but she saw the mingled anxiety and relief in my face and she took pity. "You're still up, honey? Aw, that's sweet. You poor baby, you were worried about me! I've told you not to worry. I've told you over and over that I'm perfectly safe, always in good hands. We all look out for each other, and Chuck always takes special care of me. I think he feels something for me, poor man. But you see, there's no reason to feel fretful!" An odd smile had flickered across her face, the same one every time his name comes up. I'd never met Chuck. I'd seen him only once when her car wouldn't start and he came to our house to fetch her. She'd rushed out and then hopped into his car so quickly I caught only a glimpse. It wasn't reassuring. Wide shoulders, square-jawed, an easy grin. Once she was seated alongside he'd turned to kiss her with such possessive self-assurance that my stomach clutched. I couldn't tell for sure, but I could imagine that she kissed him back ferociously, her arms pulling his face into hers, her make-up hopelessly mussed even before they'd driven away. Long after they were gone I stood by the window still seeing it, trembling. She continued. "Really, you dear man, there was nothing tonight to concern you. You shouldn't torture yourself. We dance, we talk, we enjoy each other's company. Now and then we pair off, but even then no one's ever left alone. I've told you that so often! Really, honey, you should just go to bed at your usual time on these nights when the Club meets. I always come home safe." She raised her eyebrows and smiled resssuringly. "Tired, I'll admit, but safe." I knew she'd say that. But this time I had to speak my piece regardless. I'd been rehearsing it for hours. "Well, I'm sorry, Claire, I really am. I try, but I can't help it. I'm always anxious for you when you go out like this. I wish I weren't. You can understand it. I'm concerned for, well, lots of reasons. I don't know any of these people, the ones you see there. People change, I'm sure the membership changes. I don't know if you're with the same people from week to week, apart from maybe this Chuck and some others you mention now and then. If anyone decided to get mean and play rough when you were alone with him, I mean, how would anyone know? How would I know? And what if your car broke down driving home through a bad part of town. This is the latest you've come home for a long time." Her face didn't change. There was nothing in my speech she hadn't expected me to say. I was dithering because as we both knew I couldn't bring myself to name my real fears. She was out having fun and I was wasn't, and I was jealous of everyone she was with. Moreover, I was afraid that one day she'd enjoy herself so much she'd see no reason to return to me. "Billy, I came home late because I was having a good time. You should feel happy for me!" She knew that statement was no consolation, more a riposte. Then she began deciding where she'd sit down. Not the couch, that was a commitment to talk, and she wanted to get to bed soon. Yet we had to talk. I had to, even though she'd given up hope that anything would ever come of it. An uncomfortable straight-backed chair facing me, maybe. "You're right of course," she said absently. "It's like any social club, there are always new people, and some come back and become old people and others drop out and disappear. We're never the same mix twice, different folks and strokes. That's what makes each session so exciting for me. The regulars know each other, and the newcomers add an element of unpredictablity. We anticipate known quirks and needs and sometimes we're surprised to discover new ones. We enjoy them. We enjoy each other." She paused, weary. Nothing new there either. She knew what I really needed was assurance that no matter what, I was still special to her, that she still wanted me. "Now there are even couples," she volunteered hopefully. "A few. I don't mean people like me and Chuck, people who spend time with each other no matter who else also, or no matter what else they're into. I mean, some guys bring girlfriends. There are even husbands now. A few." There it was. She paused again, then reconciled herself to it and sat down in the straight back chair. From the way she slithered down I could tell she was leaking, that she was a little concerned for her dress. Plainly she'd rather be in the shower right now and then in bed. But the old topic had come up again, and Claire was never one to avoid tough issues. She had to put blame where blame was due. "Billy baby, this is your same old jealous resentment speaking, isn't it? Well, I've told you repeatedly that you can come with me any time you want. That you'll always be more than welcome. Even if you only come once just to see what it's like and then never come again. I know that if you're properly prepared for it you'll love it! But you don't want to, you never want to." She looked directly at me to drill the point home. "Well, that's your choice. You pay your own piper and you call your own tunes. You'd rather sit here and agonize over whatever you imagine I'm doing there, and never just go and find out for yourself. I still don't know why, really. The offer's still open." We'd started in again. "Well, no, Claire," I said gently but pointedly. If we were going to remind ourselves of some of it, we should remind ourselves of all of it. "It isn't exactly my choice. You set conditions. I can't meet those conditions. I can't agree to the terms you stipulate." "You mean that if you come, it has to be as my roommate, not my husband?" "Yes. Sort of." She took a deep breath, trying to maintain patience but starting to lose it. "What's wrong with that? I've told you the reasons, over and over! No one in the Club wants to meet my husband. Any husband! For one thing, if they've ... ahhh ...spent some time with the wife it makes them uncomfortable. We all have our little secrets and kinks, special intimacies husbands shouldn't know about." True enough, I thought morosely. Claire had let slip one morning her exultation that she'd worn down eleven men in a single night in some contest they'd held. It depressed me. As only one man my chances with her seemed all the more hopeless, whatever the game. "But mainly, no man wants to risk tangling with a husband. Whether a husband's possessive or generous or just plain indifferent, there's always something at stake for them. They get contentious for no reason. Well, life's too short for hassles, and there are always plenty of unencumbered women available. So everyone figures, who needs it? Believe me, the high schools and colleges and the divorce mills keep cranking out all the singles anyone would ever hope to meet!" "And Billy, just think about it! How can I possibly play romantic games with some beautiful man I may have just met when my husband's moping around in the background watching? How can the man? How can I dance with someone long enough and close enough to know whether he's got what I want deep inside me later on, if my hubby's watching and worrying and maybe disapproving? And what if I'm dancing amorously with a woman, and my husband doesn't know anything at all about that part of me? No, husbands as husbands are definitely out! Brothers are out too, the way they confuse family honor with chastity. And live-in boyfriends can be worse than either of them! " "But roommates? You know! They enjoy seeing each other start little adventures, and they love to talk about them endlessly afterward. Roommates are fun! I gave you a choice which kind of roommate you'd like to be, and you chose not to be either kind. So again, if you choose to stay home and be jealous and resentful and anxious and worried and miserable, don't blame me for that!" That wasn't the point, and Claire knew it! I felt a little irritated, and it must have been in my voice when I answered her. "Claire, it's never that I object to pretending I'm your roommate! It's what kind of roommate! You insist a decent girl can have only two kinds of roommates, an obviously gay male or a girlfriend! If I came with you I'd have to be one or the other. No way your husband so no way a threat to the others." "Some choice! If I decide to be gay, then everyone understands that I'm a man you share your apartment and your secrets with but never your body. I'm your dear friend and confidante. Someone with no designs on you who's always urging you to go off and have a good time with any guy hung heavy enough to interest you." "So? That's what I do anyhow. You'd get a greater feeling of involvement if you gave it your blessing. Why don't you?" I ignored her. "Or if I pretend I'm your best girlfriend, the girl you live with, everyone would assume we lend each other clothes and advice and that we share all our girlish concerns and desires with each other. And again, they'd think I'm always happy for you when you go off to get laid. And again, that you tell me all about it afterward!" "Well, don't I? Mostly? I don't like to keep secrets from you, honey. We're married, after all!" "Yes, but most of the time I don't want to know those kinds of secrets, Claire, they make me uncomfortable. You're right, even jealous, in a way. Or maybe envious. I mean, for example, with this guy Chuck, I have the impression that you're more intimate with him, you do more different things with him during any one Club meeting than you've ever done with me in the whole of our marriage. And I haven't even met him!" "So? What bothers you more, that he has more access to me or that you haven't met? It's true. I'll take that beautiful prick of his into any one of my openings any time he wants. Mouth, pussy, or ass. I love it! God knows I'd want him in all three openings at once all the time if he could manage it. And it's true you've only been in my pussy and no where else. Because that's where I want you, where I feel you belong when you're inside me. It feels right, and the other places feel ... improper, somehow! Wrong! That's what sanctifies marriage, Bill, proper sex in proper places!" "But Bill, if that's your idea of 'intimacy,' the fucking and sucking I do with Chuck, I must beg to differ. No, with Chuck I never feel intimate. I feel stuffed, crammed as full of his goodies as a Christmas goose. Or sometimes the other way, he leads me into something so pure, so spiritual, so out-of- body that my whole being becomes one grand throbbing orgasm pulsing in a cosmic universe surrounding his cock, until I've just about lost my mind. But intimate? No, sweetheart, *we're* intimate, you and me! We have feelings for each other that go way back and way deeper, far deeper than my admiration and gratitude to Chuck because he has such a great cock and he gives me such great sex." She sniffed, and tossed her head self-righteously. "In fact, Bill, you shouldn't feel jealous of him, you should feel grateful! He's the one after all who persuaded me that it wasn't right, my not allowing you to kiss my pussy now and then as a special treat. "Claire, that 'special treat' as you call it always seems to be whenever your pussy and your asshole are so stretched out and raw, with cum pouring so heavily out of your crack and down your thighs, that you can barely walk into the house. That's when you seem to want to feel my tongue slurping and soothing you!" She smiled at me smugly. "Well, that's when I need you most, sweetheart! Especially when he's come in my ass over and over and it's leaking heavily, and I can't douche it out easily and a tampon stuffed into it feels uncomfortable. When the accumulated goop in there needs to be sucked out gently. And when my ass cheeks are chafed from all that rubbing and thrusting. That's when your sweet mouth and tongue feel so very welcome, lover! So soothing and comforting! There's no one I love more than you when you're down there between my legs, licking out my rosebud and my pussy and cleaning all that sticky stuff off my bottom. Isn't it true? You know how sensitive I am when we're like that and your tongue touches my clit. Sometimes I come almost as often on your mouth as I do on Chuck's prick when he's first working it into me and it won't quite fit." I couldn't say anything. For years I'd wanted to have oral sex with Claire, and only after Chuck told her had she let me. And only after she'd been with him. It was as if she were awarding me his leftovers in exchange for my mopping up after the two of them. Well, I'd run out of arguments. I had to open up to her honestly. So finally I just said, "Claire, please! I'm so lonely when you're gone! And so frightened each time that you won't come back! And yes, I do feel jealous that you do things with him you don't do with me! And with the others. I can't help it!" My voice quavered. I felt so vulnerable! In response, Claire's voice held as steady as her gaze, unmoved. "I've invited you to come with me and join in with us and make yourself welcome, and do all kinds of things with us. Just agree you'll come not as my husband but as a gay guy or a girl. Of course Chuck would know that you're really my husband. But if you were really sincere he'd know that you don't intend to act like a husband in any way during the evening, and that would be good enough. The others wouldn't know anything." "I don't know why I can't be introduced as your husband. If that's what I am, and that's what he knows I am, why not?" Something in me just wouldn't quit. "Oh dear," she said to the air, rolling up her eyes. Then she mustered enough energy to look directly at me and to speak slowly, deliberately, with some force. "Because that isn't how he or anyone else wants to know you. I've already told you! He wants to meet you either as the gay friend who lives with me or as my live-in girlfriend. As no competition whatever! Because he wants to know right away where he stands with you. That you aren't jealous or resentful. Especially of his prick. That he isn't making you feel bad about your own endowment. Oh yes, he knows all about your endowment!" That was shocking! I was horrified! "You told him about me?" My voice shrank back into the rest of me. I'm not bad as prick sizes go, low average maybe, maybe a little lower than that. When I first met Claire she'd called it "unimpressive," but she didn't laugh, and I'd been so worried she'd think it ridiculous I took that as a compliment. I've always felt ashamed of its size. Teenage kids see to that. They know nothing about how to use the things, so they make a big deal out of size, that's what they can measure. Mine never measured up. "Sweetheart, yes, of course I told him! I've told everyone! When I was first initiated into the Club they all wanted to know why I wanted to join, and I had to tell them. Your cock size was one of the big reasons. No, let's call it one of the main reasons. That night after they'd accepted me the big reasons for my wanting to join pushed themselves into me one after another and kept coming in me and at me until by morning I was stretched out and drenched and gooey and everyone else was exhausted, but for once I was satisfied!" She smiled, amused by a stray thought. "I could have gone on for another few hours," she added. "A lot of men have since found that out." "Just what did you tell Chuck about me?" "Nothing to discourage him from voting you into the Club, if I could ever finally entice you to join. He likes the idea of you becoming a member. That's a plus as far as he's concerned. Of course your small cock does raise problems with our women members. They'd have no use for it. So when I talk to them about you I have to accentuate the positive. "What's that?" "That your secret fantasy really is in fact to be either gay or a girl. That you'd be more a woman member than a man member. A lesbian with the women and a slut with the men. That above all you'd love to feel a really big cock inside you, your legs wrapped around a masterful cocksman. That you'd love it almost as much as I do." "Oh God, Claire! You told people that?" "The women understood that and sympathized immediately! But more important, that's why Chuck is now persuaded that the husband in you won't interfere with us. That given the prospect of getting really royally fucked yourself for the first time in your life, you won't allow yourself to play husband!" "So that's why you told me that if I attend any of your meetings it has to be as either a queer or a queen? To make good on your claim that I want to be one or the other?" "No, honey." She was beginning to sound really weary now. "The other way around. That's the condition the Club's rules set for admitting any husbands. No spouses as spouses! Period! End of discussion! A spouse has to behave like a queer or a queen, as you so delicately put it. And do it convincingly! Do I have to spell it out for you again? I've already told you, and I've already told you why -- please don't make me repeat myself. I also told everyone that given your low-voltage cock, you'd probably get more pleasure out of being a queer or a queen than you do from being a man. I think that's true!" She paused, then looked at me so very sadly. "Oh, honey, I do wish you would! I don't like having this life apart from yours any more than you do!" she said. Then she said nothing. She seemed on the edge of tears. Tears of sorrow and sympathy and frustration, because I was miserable and yet I was unwilling to help myself. I had to offer her at least some small encouragement. To seem interested. So I said, "You said there were a few husbands attending your meetings now. Do they meet the Club's conditions?" Claire was silent. Then, "Yes. Maybe not originally, but they do now. If you were to attend one of our meetings, you'd see a few gay men flouncing about. Some are for real and some are pretending, or think they're pretending, but all of them offer to suck cock. And all seem to be delighted when a man wants to pump their assholes, or a woman approaches them with a dildo. Yes. Does that answer your question?" "Is that what Chuck would expect from me when he meets me?" "Of course, sweetheart! He very much wants to get to know you first of all as someone sucking on his cock, whether as a grateful faggot or a cock- hungry girl doesn't matter to him. He doesn't care which as long as there's devotion and respect in the way you bring him off." She repeated her plea. "Please, honey! You'd get to love it. We'll all see that you really and truly get to love it. I promise you!" I retreated and threw up a defensive shield. I resented being made out to be the one at fault here, and the hour was late, and I felt bitter. So I let fly! "Your Chuck isn't satisfied that he's taken my wife from me? He also wants to turn me into a cocksucker and take my self-respect as well?" A big mistake! It was as if I'd slapped Claire's face. She winced, then stood up suddenly, angry! Then sat down again, and couldn't suppress her scorn. "Oh don't be ridiculous!! You can be such a pompous fool, Bill! Self- respect? It's simply that you're no use to either of us as a man, so you'll need to cultivate other talents. Your little thing is, well, I've said it, you've said it yourself, 'unimpressive'. I told you that before we were married, when you first agreed to let me make up for it with other men whenever I was feeling really needy. Remember, that's why we took the phrase 'forsaking all others' out of my marriage vows? So I could remain faithful to my vows and to our marriage despite your deficiencies? I'd hoped at the time that you'd join me now and then, at least to the best of your ability, and that was why we took that phrase out of your vows too! Remember? But you never did join me! You were faithful to me! That's yet another way you've been a disappointment to me, Bill." She recovered herself somewhat. "Not that I don't love you to distraction anyhow!" she said more earnestly. "I do love you, my darling, darling husband! Just cuddling with you is for me so much more erotic than getting it on with Chuck or with any of the other regulars these days. Most of the time I can't feel you when we fuck anyhow. You're too meagre. But I can always feel your arms, and when you're down on me I can feel your mouth. And your mouth is wonderful!" She took a deep breath and tried to speak calmly, her love for me almost balancing off the resentment still lingering in her voice. But not quite. I braced myself. "How can you speak of self-respect? Already whenever I come home from a meeting you can't wait to bow down low before me and bury your face in my crotch and swallow down a bellyfull of Chuck's cum, your rival for my affections, a man who can outfuck you in his sleep! And if I've felt a little wild that night who knows how many other men's cum is mixed in, and you're eager to suck it all even out of my asshole! Chuck arranged for you to do this when he heard you wanted it, and you accepted his gift. Where's there an issue of self respect there? You should thank him humbly! You should feel flattered that now Chuck is willing to let you suck him off directly, to let you swallow cum spurting fresh from his cock instead of dribbling hours later out of my cunt. That's if you're able to bring him off at all! If you're man enough, or girl enough! It's only for my sake, really, that he's willing to let you try. Because of his respect for me, because he knows that I love you and want you to enjoy my pleasures." Now that she was on the attack she warmed to it. "Self-respect! You'll really learn to respect yourself the first time you get that huge thing of his in front of your eyes and you start to lick it, and then finally manage to figure out how to wrap your mouth around it! If you can! That'll be an accomplishment to make you proud! And you'll really learn self-respect when you've learned how to open your ass wide enough to take him in, his whole thickness and his enormous length, and when you learn how to pump him until he fills up your guts! And all through the next day, to love the thought that your innards are still coated with his cum, that you've earned that reward. To smile each time you realize it!" "You see, Billy dear, it isn't easy to give Chuck a blow job or a fuck. Believe me, I know. I'll be awestruck with admiration if I ever see you manage it. And you'll have to offer him your mouth and throat and also your ass the first time you're allowed into our meetings. Or who'll ever believe that you're really queer or a girl, whichever you mean to be. And when you've done it, Billy my love, that's what you will be, No pretending, no fraud then. When Chuck's inside you you're the real thing!" Then she struck hard. "Billy, I've done a lot of thinking about us lately. I really don't know that you've got enough genuine self-respect to quit feeling sorry for yourself and instead attend a meeting with me. I don't think you've got the guts. I don't think you've got enough courage to follow out the consequences of everything I've said to you tonight and everything I've done without you since we first got married. It should be obvious by now. You're a man with a bird-sized pecker and a loving wife you'll never be able to satisfy. I'm offering you a way to be happy and to make her happy too. To become truly married to each other, and to completely satisfy each other's desires. Are you willing to commit yourself?" "Or do you really prefer sitting up late waiting for me to come home, imagining me doing who knows what with who knows who and wringing your hands in grief because I'm enjoying myself and you're not. All the while worrying that some day I might not come home at all. Billy, some day I might not! I still love you, but my love doesn't seem to prevail here! For the first time, I've begun to wonder whether maybe I should leave you. For both our sakes! I can no longer see clearly that we have a future together." Having uttered those terrible words, she sat there, then added in a forlorn voice, "I hate feeling like this, sweetheart! I just hate it! But there it is!" Then she turned her huge eyes to me and said in the most incredibly small, pleading voice, "Please, honey? Please! Just once?" I sat there frightened. It was very late. I felt monumentally tired, used up. Why had I chosen tonight to force the issue? Had I? Had this conversation simply evolved of its own will toward this crux? No matter, I had to face it now or I'd surely lose her! I myself could feel my own tears rising, of loss, of regret, of lamentation for what might have been, tears of sorrowful acceptance rising into my eyes, and I knew that if they actually erupted I'd lose everything. Claire would leave me, a hopelessly helpless, indecisive, small-dicked, self-pitying, sobbing wimp. She'd mourn my loss briefly, until those studs in her Club persuaded her to forget me. So I restrained myself, and instead forced myself to speak. "Claire, I'm not promising anything. But if I were to agree to attend one of your meetings, just to prove to you that I can do it, how would that help us? Husband or no husband, how could I deal with it when I see you and Chuck head toward some suite of rooms upstairs in this mansion you people meet in, while I'm left standing alone in some reception area somewhere. What would I have to imagine while you're with him? At least sitting here I can imagine anything or nothing, and I always choose to imagine nothing!" Claire now stood up unexpectedly, and came over to the large easy chair I was sitting in and sat down on an arm and leaned way over me, and kissed me on the lips. Oh so tenderly! So very sweetly! And again. I began melting! "Billy my darling," she whispered to me. "My sweet, precious angel! Don't worry about such things. Your first time everyone will take good care of you. You won't ever be alone. I promise you, when Chuck and I next get it on you'll be there, you'll be a part of it! To watch, maybe even to share! Whichever, it'll be your choice." "That's if I decide to go," I insisted. "Whichever way you decide to go," she replied. "You mean as a fruit or a whore?" "That's crude, honey! But whichever. It's altogether your decision! Maybe you should try out each one first to see which is more *you*. Which expresses better the way you want to feel when you're having sex. Are you more one of their kind, or are you one of my kind? Because there'll be quite a few men who'll want to use you even your first time, whichever way you flip. Or flop!" She smiled reassuringly for the first time that evening. "May I make a suggestion?" She waited for my nod, then kissed me again before continuing. So soft, her lips! I wanted to do anything to make her happy. "Honey, choose to be a girl, not a gay. I love it, being a girl. I think you would too. And I'd love it for you! But there're other reasons. We have many more men who prefer girls to boys, so you'd have more choice among them. Some of the men who prefer men are into really rough sex, even blood sports -- if you're gay you don't have to go with them, but you can't always tell, and you'd feel a moral obligation to them probably. And you're so fragile, so sensitive, sweetheart! I think you'll be happier developing a feminine personality. Even though you have so much to learn about being a girl, and even though you already know enough about being a boy to fake it convincingly. Once you're a girl, you can always change your mind and go the other way and become a shemale or a femme boy, if that's more to your liking. But if you're gay and want to go the other way, you'd have to start all over again, and go the whole distance! What she said made sense as an abstract problem in sequencing. I understood her and nodded. I thought about it, looked into her face, and then nodded again. "That makes sense," I said. She altogether misunderstood me! "Then you'll do it? That's your choice? You'll come as a girl? Oh, darling! I'm so very, very happy!" She leaned way over and clutched my neck so tightly I thought I'd choke, and then with a great sigh she began to cover my face with kisses! I tried to recover. To pull back. "Now Claire, wait...!" But it was too late! I wanted to tell her that this was all hypothetical, but it was already too late! It wasn't hypothetical for her any longer! She was already very, very happy! She crawled on top of me in the big easy chair, onto my lap, and she wrapped herself around me, and then she began giving me long, serious, responsive kisses. Her free hand reached down toward my altogether neglected cock and unzipped my fly. "Oh darling!" she breathed in utter contentment. "Oh, my sweet baby! We'll have such a good time together! You'll never regret this. Never!" And gently she began to jerk me off. Slowly. A sweet yearning rose up in my loins and into my belly and my thighs. As it intensified she kissed me. "This darling little thing," she said. "So cute! Practically a clit! We are all going to adore it! Kiss it, fondle it, tug on it, gays and guys, lesbians and ladies, everyone!" She manipulated my penis slowly, carefully, and brought me to an edge. Then slowed. For the rest of our conversation she kept me just under that edge, enraptured. "Everyone will take care of me, you said?" I said. I was frankly frightened. There was no point any more to maintaining a conditional mode. I had better find out what she's committed me to do. Find what reassurance I could in whatever she could say. "Everyone, sweetheart! Let me tell you how. The Club has a welcoming ceremony for first-time members, and for spouses it's fully scripted. First, to prove your sincerity, you and Chuck will make love in public. As a courtesy, because you're mine, and Chuck's more mine than anyone else's. That means that I'll ceremonially hand you over to him. Remember that the membership already thinks Chuck is your girlish heart's desire. Lots of us are hopeless romantics, and will want to see you fulfill your dream just as I've described it to them. So you'll suck his cock in front of everyone, and then wrap your legs around his waist just as you've always dreamed, supposedly, while he takes your virginity. And you'll try to be as affectionate with him as any girl can be when she's with a man who is so marvelously fulfilling her girlhood fantasies. You'll kiss him all over his face gently but passionately. Like this." She did so. Light, soft, dainty pecks lingering for a moment on my lips when they landed there and pressing delicately against my cheeks. "Just the way you're now fulfilling my fantasy for me, you marvelous man! That's the last time I'll be able to call you that, my dearest girlfriend, a man I mean, but I just had to one more time!" Her hand magically sustained my cock's delicious intensity of feeling. I almost rose to cum, then didn't. Then again. "Then when Chuck's broken in your mouth and your ass you'll belong to anyone who's attracted to you. That'll be our confirmed gays first of all, of course. They'll want to use you while you still more or less resemble a man. But I imagine it'll also be anyone at all. Some of the girls have been so envious when I've told them about how wonderful it feels when you suck and lick me after I've had sex with several men. They'll want to find out for themselves. And some straight guys want to get at you for their own reasons. There's a business competitor who told me that you'd once fucked him out of a contract, so he'd take special pleasure fucking you in the ass. You might enjoy it too -- we all love it hard, deep, and relentless some times, don't we? Then there's an old schoolmate of yours who still admires you and thinks a session of 69ing would be blissful. And there's an old flame of mine who never got over the fact that I married you and not him. You may need to watch out for him. No telling what he'll want from you. He gets pretty wild with me these days." I'd never dreamed that anyone I knew belonged to this club of Claire's. I was appalled. But another warning bell was ringing in my head from something she'd said. "Claire, wait a minute. You said that the gays will want to use me 'While I still more or less resemble a man'? What does that mean?" "Sweetheart! You're a girl! My girlfriend! The straight men in our Club want to see breasts on their women! Like mine, even bigger! So we'll start breasts growing on you at once! Don't worry, you'll feel so good about them you won't be able to imagine a time when you didn't have breasts. For many reasons, but the main reason will be that you'll feel so deliciously wicked when you fondle them!" "Oh!" was all I could say. I was overwhelmed. I should have known. "To get back to it. A first-timer is available to whoever asks, and a first year girl is always available anyhow -- she's available to anyone for anything but S&M, unless she's into S&M. You'll be an available mouth and asshole at first, because you won't yet have a cunt or breasts! Though the men will call you a cunt even so, you know how guys talk. You'll be a pretty cunt, I'll bet, when I get you dolled up and we make a few adjustments in your face and figure." "Then at the end of a year's probation you'll decide if you want to continue as a Club slut for another year, or divorce your wife and become a male clubmember in your own right, or get a pussy and become a complete woman member. You'll have full-sized breasts by then, if only for your own satisfaction, so your men can suckle them in return for similar favors rendered. Most wives of Club sluts usually want them to go all the way, to finish up with everything a girl should have, vagina included. Out of guilt at depriving them, or to encourage feminist independence, or because they've already found better men -- different reasons. You'll need to choose which kinds of breasts you want fairly soon, inserts right off or wait for your hormones to grow you your own. I favor the natural kind. They're usually worth the wait." I tried asking indirectly how much of this was reversible. "Doesn't anyone just leave after the year? Decide it isn't for them? How many decide they'd rather be men again?" This time Claire paused, and looked away. Then toward me. Then kissed me. Then thought some more, and finally she said, "No, honey. None. No one ever leaves. No one changes back, either. It's always been for keeps. They aren't able. You see, they've gotten accustomed to it all by then. They like it!" I didn't know what to make of that. As an afterthought Claire added, "Eunice was our last Club slut. She had to leave town not long ago when her wife's firm -- it used to be her firm -- relocated in another city. She now tends the household and entertains clients for her wife, helps out like that, and I hear she's kept herself busy doing volunteer fucking and sucking among the underprivileged. Because in a way, she can't help herself now. I can understand that. Once you're a girl, why should you ever want to be a man again?" This was beyond me. I tried again to find some reassuring precedents, others who had gone where I was now sort of committed to go. "You said there were already a few other husbands there. What do they do?" "Oh, them. All three decided they'd rather be queer. So all three now are. Their first session turned them on so throughly they now spend all their time with each other, and two of their wives are divorcing them. It's ironic. When the divorces go through they could revert and go straight and fuck anybody. But the chances are they'll be so busy sucking each other's dicks and burying them in each other's rear ends that they'll never notice." She continued to slide her palm up and down my cock. I was in ecstasy. But my mind wasn't altogether euphoric. "Claire, please don't take offense. I have to be honest with you now. It's one thing to hear about these things, but it's another to actually do them. I know it's silly, and it's wrong, and I shouldn't, but my mind still keeps finding all kinds of objections and inhibitions and resentments. There's Chuck for example. I understand everything you've said. But how can I let the man who's fucked my wife fuck me? How can I suck a cock that she's sucked? It's like conferring a Good Housekeeping seal of approval on my arch rival. Moreover, I've always been faithful to you. But now you tell me I'll need to become promiscuous, a slut, and have sex with anyone of any sex or gender or sexual preference. How can I do that and do it with sincerity? My heart wouldn't be in it!" Curled up on my lap, Claire kissed my nose. "My dear darling! I know it's difficult. I was hoping you wouldn't raise that issue until tomorrow -- it's so very late now. The problem is, you're still thinking like a man. Like a husband. And that's the next thing we need to talk about. Since you're now willing to meet all the conditions I've mentioned, I've got to tell you how you'll meet them. By fulfilling one more condition. Not by choosing to fulfill it. Here you don't get a choice. By submitting to it." I was far from feeling easy about the way this conversation had gone. In fact I was apprehensive. What had I agreed to do, or seemed to agree to do? I couldn't imagine myself actually fulfilling any of these things. But did I have a choice? Really, it seemed my choice was, do it or walk away from my marriage. "Submit? What else can there be? You want me to play the pansy slut at these meetings of yours. What more is there?" "Not pansy, darling. A gay man can be a pansy, but not you. You're a girl. As of right now. Right now the two of us are girlfriends, not man and wife, and we're lesbians too, sort of." She kissed me as if to confirm the point, then smiled into my face. "We'll stay married, I'll never want to give you up, but we're no longer equal partners. You see, the one additional condition is that you submit to me. That whatever I want, you'll want me to have. And that you'll do everything I want you to do." I was silent, a little puzzled. "I know, that's how a gentleman always feels about the lady he loves. But in this case it's also necessary. It's a formal condition of our relationship from now on. You obey me. Whatever I want, you'll do, and whatever I want you'll *want* to do. That's essential." "You see, sweetie, to become the girl you need to be, you'll need guidance. You'll want it. I know you don't feel that way yet, but don't worry, you will. You'll change so much faster, your desire to please others will grow so much stronger when my desires for you become yours. If your greatest happiness is seeing me smile at you. If my approval sends you into ecstasies. We can arrange it. There are training programs that accomplish this, and if you can't achieve it on your own, there are drugs that can help you." "At first it'll be easy. You'll feel more like a girl the moment you look more like one and begin to practice being one, and that's tomorrow. Nothing much, just a beauty salon and shop for some clothes and get your hormone regimen established -- no cosmetic surgery at all until later, when we see what's necessary. Tomorrow we'll play. It'll be such fun! Like when I was a little girl playing with my dollies!" "The second step is more difficult. It isn't easy to learn to think like a girl instead of a man. To get so you really want to do what girls do. I'll help you there too, but now that you've finally agreed to all this I mean to get away for a while to do something else I've had in mind. Now I'll know that you're too busy to be sitting at home moaning and sulking because I'm somewhere else. So someone else will take over for me. This next stage takes time, weeks maybe. But you'll enjoy it, believe me. The woman I have in mind for you will use only positive reinforcement of different kinds, from a hand gently tugging on your penis while she talks to you, like mine right now, that's one kind, to certain kinds of suggestions she'll implant whenever you're in an appropriately receptive state of mind. Maybe you'll embrace your femininity to escape the way she'll humiliate your manhood. You'll see. When she's done you'll love doing whatever you're asked, and in no time you won't want things any other way!" "The really hard part comes with heightening the intensity of your desires, so you become in some ways insatiable. That's the third stage. You see darling, a willingness to do the job isn't enough. You'll need to be eager to swallow all that cum out of all those cocks and pussies. Not just mine, anyone's. You'll practically have to live for it to be of use to us. Beg for it. Crave it and feel joyous when it's about to happen! Now, that requires radical behavior modification. Special training and conditioning full time for at least a month." She paused. I was still silent, trying to absorb it all, so she continued. "That takes professionals, and a special school you'll attend. The people who'll actually be training you are first class, thoroughly experienced. I don't doubt that you'll be all we hope for in plenty of time for your debut in ... let's say ... six weeks! You won't recognize yourself!" I was addled. The lateness of the hour, the deliciously distracting yearning in my crotch. Her hand slipping up and down on my penis. I couldn't think. "Full time you say? For six weeks? What about my work?" "Quite impossible from now on, sweetheart. Preparing for this new role is your work. I'll make arrangements tomorrow for a three month leave of absence for you. When you resign at the far end of the three months, if you do it in person you'll create quite a sensation! By then you'll be gorgeous!" This was a late-night hallucination! It had to be! I tried finding some place in the soft ground where I could dig in my heels. "Claire, what can you be training me for that it's so necessary for me to quit work? Your Club meets only evenings, and only once a week." I was trying at that point to test my sanity. "Well, really, Billy, a Club slut is special. What we'll want is for you to walk around in a dazed haze of erotic desire all the time. To think about it all the time. Because between meetings, you'll be on call. All the time. Don't worry, the membership will pay you something for your services. Not well, but enough for you to understand you're our whore, not yet an equal member with the rest of us, that you're performing for money no matter how sincerely you may also want to please us. That way you can measure the satisfaction you're providing by the tips you've earned. You'll pay your dues and help here with household expenses. If you need more you'll earn it on the street. You'll find you've been as well-trained as any professional!" "And you'll love your trainer. Erika is her name. She's available now, as it happens. A woman with a wonderful force of character, really overwhelming. I'm sure she'll begin very gently with you at first, probably nothing more than rewards granted or deferred. But I'll bet that within two weeks you'll be blissful when she fucks you with her dildo. That you won't feel complete when she isn't mounted on you." "It won't be you?" "Me? Oh, Bill, no! I need to be held in reserve for you. I'm the woman you really love, remember! I'm the highest pinnacle of your joy! Pleasing me will be your loftiest aspiration. Now and then you'll be allowed near me, on some really rare occasion when you're fully trained. I may even let you back into my bedroom then." She wriggled on my lap, her hand still stroking me. Her bottom felt moist. No, wet. She had indeed been leaking, the whole time. "You see, sweetie, Chuck and I will be going away for a week or two as soon as you're set up with Erika, now that I know you won't be sitting here alone pining away for me. We've wanted to for the longest time. I want to condition him to recover erections more quickly, so he can last as long as I want him to last. And install some other little reflexes he doesn't need to know are there. Then when he can go all night I'll want him upstairs with me in our bedroom, snugged into me all night, at least for a few weeks, maybe more. Don't look so downcast, you'll scarcely notice! You'll move into the guest room with Erika. She's the woman you'll want to learn to please now. I'll have higher expectations you can't possibly hope to meet for many weeks." "You see, darling, you're still too accustomed to thinking of me as your wife, not your girlfriend. Be happy that your girlfriend is now free to play with her boyfriend whenever she wants to. Get used to it. You have so much to get used to! I mean, you've never even had a tampon in your pussy, much less a butt plug or dildo, or the ultimate fulfillment, a real cock. So Erika will go slow. We'll just put you on high hormone doses and watch you closely and see what happens naturally. Your mind will change along with your body, so you'll always feel comfortable as it happens." My face must have looked as appalled as I felt, because she reassured me. "Believe me honey, you'll get into it! I've had lots of experience with submissive men, and you're a natural." "Why are you so sure?" "I can sense it. I know. Watch!" She suddenly let go of my member and wriggled clear of my lap and stood up. Then hiked up her skirt -- I saw it had a drenched area just as my pants did -- and lay down on her back in the carpet, all the while looking at me. She spread her legs wide and gestured to me with both hands. I could see she'd come home without any panties. There was her slit in the lamplight, puffed out, distended, glistening, pooled with opalescent fluids, her whole bottom slick. "Do you want to bury your face in there, Billy?" I tried to pull out of it. "Claire," I began. Then failed. "Yes" is all I said. It had been so long! "See?" She said. Then "Do it!" A second later she was saying "Ohhhh, that's so goooood!" her thighs holding my head tightly to her quim in a loving hug. I couldn't bend my neck, and I could barely breathe! But I didn't care! Her fingers were running through my hair. She gripped it "Yes," she said. "I think I prefer you as my girlfriend, not my faggot roomie or my former hubbie. If it's girls you've always loved, that's what you should become. There's more chance then that you'll love what you've become. Yessssss! I will miss that tongue of yours until Erika can certify that the rest of you is ready! Oooohhhhhh, yessssss!" And she came, her thighs tightening and hips in spasm, lurching my head and neck uncontrollably. Then she rose, and gestured me to sit back down again. "It's nearly four now, my lovely darling. Let's fuck now this one last time together as husband and wife. My sweet girl. My sweet slut girl. You *will* love it! It'll be perfect for you! No more choices! No more anxieties. No more worrying. You'll go with me to all our meetings whenever I go, and to lots of others in between on your own. Always eager to help. Never questioning anything. You'll blow anyone I ask, and suck anyone who asks you! It will be wonderful. I love you. Here, put yourself into me now, and add your cum to the other cum inside me from tonight. Maybe for the last time." She lifted herself up and dropped her crotch down on me, and writhed up and down a few more times. I felt a wet warmth on my cock, humid, slippery, though I couldn't feel her pussy at all. She slid up and down on me again, and then I felt myself shooting off inside her as if into moist air. At last! Heaven! Breathing heavily, I hugged her, and she hugged me back. I felt blissfully happy at that moment. And finally, for some reason, I started to cry. End