Scissor Sisters - Chapter Seven free porn video

Scissors Sisters ? Chapter Seven ? By: Beverly Taff List of Characters. Me: Peter(Now Petra); Susan(Susie): My mother; Grandma: My granny; Aunty Pauline: My mother?s twin sister; Charlotte: My younger sister(By one year); Persephone & Stephanie: My younger twin sisters(By 3 years); Emily & Judith: My twin cousins(2 days younger than I me); Janice: Grandma?s live in maid; Uncle Reggie Grandma Brother and a Baron. Chapter Seven At sixteen, Judith and I were finally allowed to fulfil our relationship. Mummy and Aunty Pauline gave their consent whilst Grandma was delighted that we still wanted to get married. The local vicar even supported our union because he, like most of the villagers, was a party to my condition. Even though I lived as a girl, appeared as a girl and behaved like a girl, everybody in the village knew I was technically a boy. In the eyes of any monotheist faith and certainly in civil law, our union was legal! Throughout my juvenile years, everybody in our village had known me as Petra the little boy with no penis. When we finally reached sixteen and it became public knowledge that we had confirmed our lifelong intention to get married, the bulk of the villagers were happy for us. Whilst the village women were sympathetic they also enjoyed a sneaky, salacious delight in wondering ?how we two actually did it?. Nevertheless, despite our declared plans to marry, I was so utterly convincing as a girl that the womenfolk treated me as a girl in all social events in the village. The school had to accept our union. It was legal, though a married couple in the upper classes was certainly a novelty! Our wedding was quite a joyous affair and grandma was more than keen to pay for the celebrations. The wedding of course, was a public ceremony so anybody could enter the church to witness it, and indeed, almost the whole village did. I was one of their own and well liked in the village. What the villagers particularly really liked however, was the wedding breakfast afterwards. Grandma splashed out big time and a huge marquee was erected on the lawn. There any villager could indulge their appetite. The villagers were mildly amused that both the bride and groom wore matching wedding dresses and looked very beautiful in them. Though whatever they might have thought about it, they at least had the courtesy to congratulate us and compliment us on our union. I suppose they were so used to seeing me as a girl in the village that the wedding outfits were almost a natural extension of my acceptance in the village. My lifetime of good behaviour as a girl, and my courtesy to all the adults in the village also helped. Since starting the hormones and becoming a girl, my nature had changed and I had eventually rejected the bombastic, cheeky behaviour of the village boys, just as I had been eventually forced to give up playing football with the boys. My curvaceous body had become softer and it was just too painful when the boys tackled me. My swaying feminine gait gave me a pronounced wiggle when I ran and that made my running much slower than the boys. I could no longer avoid the crunching tackles. My soft rounded body ended up sporting some spectacular and very painful bruises before I was forced to give it all up. Another problem was trying to trap the ball with my chest and guide it to my feet. My boobs were just too large and soft to control the ball on my chest. Football was now to be denied to me unless I got an adult girl?s team to accept me, and that could also bring problems. I have to admit, though, as I became more feminine, my life in our happy little village became an idyllic existence. My troubles really started after passing my final exams and graduating from senior school. Every time I went to interviews for college or university, my lifestyle caused concern. Despite having excellent grades, every interview ended in rejection when I presented at the interview board as a very feminine and pretty Petra while the little box on my application form was ticked ?male? or ?M?. It is surprising just how prejudiced some so-called intellectuals can be. By the time I was nineteen, my cousins were already completing their first year at university, whilst I was still attending interviews and trying to gain acceptance. In the meantime, so as to be close to my beloved wife Judith, I left home and went to live in the same city as her university, all the time trying to find work to help support us. Just like my applications for university, the same prejudices had also followed me at job interviews. Every time I ticked the ?M? box and presented as Petra, the rejection was almost automatic. Finally, I got my doctor to certify me as a transsexual in transition and had my National Insurance (Social security) number changed to that of a girl. Legally I was still a boy but the transition thing enabled me to obtain female documents. Soon after that, I got my very first job at an estate agent's in the city centre. I passed the job interview with flying colours for of course, I had presented entirely as a girl. I maintained the secret of my true sex throughout my time at that office where I was put to work as the office junior filing forms, running errands, making coffee and doing all the menial, boring jobs that nobody else wanted. While others went out looking around houses and clinching sales, I was sat day after day behind my desk, doing all the boring administration and stuff, Listing properties, analysing prices comparing trends and checking surveys, etc. However, do not be fooled, that so called ?boring stuff? was the body and soul of house sales and I learned a lot about property and more importantly, property speculation. After two years I had realised that property prices rarely fell over the medium term. They might fluctuate, and sometimes plummet, but they always recovered. By the time I was twenty-one, I had realised that the property market was at the bottom of a downturn and would soon start rising again. Judith had finished university and was looking for a job. My problem lay in following her wherever she got her job. Our rolls in the marriage were at that time almost a complete reversal of the traditional positions. I, whilst technically the ?husband?, would have to be prepared to ?up stumps? and follow my wife to where ever she found a well paid job. Eventually both she and cousin Emily found jobs in London and I had to reluctantly hand in my notice at the Estate Agents. I didn?t know it at that time but that was my first decent break. My boss was sad to see me go. ?We?ll all miss you Petra,? said my boss Frank Davies at the farewell do. ?You?ve done an excellent job with the administration and stuff, but I understand. Your partner is moving and what is a girl to do? I?m giving you an excellent reference and with the property market showing its long awaited up-turn, I?m sure you?ll find a job in the city. I know that our offices down there in London are looking to take on extra staff and my reference will serve you well. I?ve spoken to my opposite number, Jack Parker. He?s a sharp eyed guy but subject to a satisfactory interview, I?m sure he?ll take you on.? I thanked Frank, for despite my being the lowly office minion, my boss had treated me reasonably well. I left with a lovely bouquet of flowers and a month?s extra pay as a bonus that he had not been obliged to give me. He was a good boss and I hugged him tearfully as I thanked him. He was the first man I had ever kissed and I was slightly surprised by his rough beard. After a few drinks, I reluctantly bid my old work colleagues farewell. The following morning Judith and I loaded up our battered old car with our meagre belongings then we bid goodbye to the university town and set off for London and the big wide world. At first we stayed in a Y.W.C.A., hostel whilst we looked around for a place to live. It was there that we met up with Emily who had also found work in London. Both Judith and Emily had jobs and I soon found one in the London branch of my old firm. My interview was a formality. Jack Parker told me that my reference from his pal ?up north? had more than clinched it for me. ?Frank speaks very highly of you Petra, so welcome aboard.? I set to work immediately and cleaned up the shambolic mess that the last hysterical employee had left behind her. Apparently, she had been the office bully and screamed a good job but left all the files in a hopeless mess. ?She could talk the talk, Petra, but she couldn?t walk the walk,? grinned Jack Parker. After discovering the total mess, I set to under Jack?s guidance and soon had the office organised and ship-shape. Within a month it was, ?Ask Petra, she knows where it is, see Petra, she can tell you.? During that month, I persuaded Judith and Emily to ?buy not rent?. ?But we haven?t got a deposit,? protested my cousins, ?Where can we ever hope to get that sort of money?? Well I had long ago learned in the property business that contacts and networking was everything. I decided to try a long shot. Why not approach ?Good old Uncle Mortimer?. One Tuesday while my cousins were working, I secretly arranged a day off with my boss, - ?To go looking for an apartment Mr Parker.? He smiled indulgently and gave me the day off. ?If you?re looking to buy Petra,? said Jack, ?there?s no better advice I can give you. Buying is much better than renting and we can help you with the fees and surveys. Maybe even something towards your deposit. ?Gosh thanks Mr Parker,? I smiled with genuine gratitude for every little bit would help.? I had already arranged an appointment to meet my grandmother?s brother and early that Tuesday morning I sped off to see my great uncle Mortimer. I was surprised to realise that it was less than two hours driving from London. I had not seen him for years and I soon learned why. Uncle Mortimer was an utterly effeminate homosexual and grandma disapproved of him intensely. That was why I had never been to see Great Uncle Mortimer after my father had been killed in the air crash. Uncle Reginald Mortimer lived alone in one wing of his huge, almost derelict country house. When I arrived, I almost burst into tears and sat in the car shocked at the decay. When I had last seen the house it was a reasonably habitable home but now it was almost falling down. What was worse, I stood to inherit this pile of rubble, so much for my inheritance. It would be a veritable noose around my neck. There were tens of thousands of pounds of work, if not hundreds. I sat in the car trying to restrain my tears. A very frail Uncle Mortimer appeared at the doorway and paused cautiously as he studied my car. After struggling with the huge front door and it?s rusty hinges he minced delicately down the steps then stared into my car and gave me a puzzled smile before noticing my tear stained cheeks. ?Are you all right young lady? You?re not lost are you?? ?No sir. I don?t think so.? ?Is there anything wrong my dear?? He reached into the breast pocket of his shirt, (Well more like a blouse) and produced a beautiful frilly handkerchief. ?Well I?m sorry young lady, I don?t normally receive visitors, but I was expecting my great nephew. I thought you were he. Who are you?? I smiled as I studied his utterly effeminate ways. Here was a sweet old queer I could grow to like. ?Who do you think I am?? I smiled, giving him my best smile. ?I?ve no idea young lady.? I decided to break it to him gently. ?Do you remember your sister, Penelope Mortimer?? His face darkened slightly as he frowned. ?Oh that little cow. Yes, why?? I did a double take. Nobody had ever referred to my beloved grandma as ?a little cow?. ?Well, I can?t break this to you gently,? I continued. ?What! Has she finally passed on?? he asked expectantly. ?Uuhm. No,? I replied, ?She?s very much alive.? ?Oh. That?s a pity. I suppose she?s persuaded Peter not to come?? ?Why d?you say that?? I asked, slightly bemused. ?Well, if it wasn?t for her, Peter might be standing where you are now.? I decided to keep the suspense no longer. Here was a very frail and vulnerable old effeminate homosexual. The more I studied him, the more I realised he was very old and certainly too old to be a physical threat. ?Would you like Peter to be here?? I asked. ?Oh yes dear, desperately, very much so. He might be able to do something with this old pile of stones. It?s too much for me to manage now.? My eyes turned once again to the old house. The windows where filthy, tiles were missing from the roof and the front door, whilst still large and imposing now stood crooked and rotten. I turned to face him. ?It would cost a fortune to repair this place. You?d be better off tearing the place down.? ?Oh that would be vandalism! How could you say such a thing young lady? My family have lived here for hundreds of years!? ?I didn?t say I would tear it down Uncle, I said it would be the least expensive option.? ?Uncle?? he replied quizzically, ?Who are you young lady?? ?I liked his manners. At no stage had he been boorish or offensive or threatening. Uncle Mortimer had been a perfect gentleman.? ?I?m your great nephew Peter, though everybody knows me as Petra.? ?Peter!? he squawked as shock strangled his aged vocal chords. ?Peter!? he repeated more hoarsely as he stared stupidly at my utterly feminine form. ?But, Peter?s a boy, or, - or, - should I say a man by now.? ?Yes. That?s perfectly true uncle. I am a man. I?m a transvestite.? His jaw sagged as he minced closer and peered into my face then ran his eyes over my seated body. Strangely I did not feel at all threatened. Finally he found his voice again. ?Well if you are, then you?re a very good one. No, -, I would say you?re a girl, the eyes, the brows, the shape, the bust, the waist, the hips, the small feet and rounded legs the small heart-shaped jaw line. If you?re a transvestite sir, then you?re a very convincing one. Would you stand out of the car please and let me look at you?? I slid out of the seat as effeminately as I could and struck a coquettish pose with my hand resting on the bonnet like a showroom advert. Uncle Reginald Mortimer studied me for several seconds then shook his head. ?Have you got some sort of identity young lady, - eh man, - uuhm whatever?? ?How would that work uncle? You wouldn?t recognise me from Adam.? ?Well that?s true,? he replied thoughtfully. ?So have you got any sort of proof?? I had come well prepared and reached into my handbag to extract a sheaf of letters and old photographs. All of them showed either Grandma, or her deceased twin sister or Uncle Mortimer or we very young children gathered with the older family members. Uncle Mortimer took a different pair of glasses from his inside pocket and peered myopically at the pictures. Eventually he was convinced. ?Yes, I see now. That?s definitely Penelope, Daphne and me outside this very house as children. He followed the line of photos I had laid out in chronological order on the car bonnet paying particular attention to the photos of me as a young boy and then slowly evolving into a very attractive woman. The last photo showed me sharing the sofa with grandma and mummy, whom Uncle Mortimer remembered well as his niece. ?Well this certainly seems to confirm your story. D?you mind if I go and telephone my sister?? ?Not at all, d?you want to use my mobile?? ?No, no. I?ll use my own in the house thank you. Please wait here.? I plonked my butt on the car bonnet and smiled as he minced back into the house. While he was away, I studied the ruined house with a practised eye. In my new job, Jack Parker had recognised my ability and often taken me out to view houses. I knew he hoped for a chance to invade my panties for several times his hands had wandered where they were not wanted but I had long learned how to handle such men. Jack, wolf though he was, would never get to first base with me if I could help it. Anyway, there was something a bit strange about Jack. Even though he had occasionally got to the tops of my stockings and smiled with delight when he realised I wore stockings not pantyhose, he always seemed to hesitate about trying for the last couple of inches. His fingers never managed to reach my panties, as though he was too nervous to take it further. There was some sort of mental block in his approach to women, as though he had set them on too high a pedestal. However it was not for the want of his frequently trying. Fortunately, all it took was a gentle push with my fingers to prevent him persisting further. Despite his hesitancy, I realised it might not be a good idea to be alone with him in some dark remote place. For one day he might pluck up the courage to try for the full ten yards. Despite Jack?s uninvited amorous advances, I had learned a lot about houses and buildings from him. While I was quietly ruminating about what sort of problems awaited me when I got to inherit this pile, Uncle Mortimer re-appeared. He waved me into the house with a broad smile and I skipped lightly up the broad steps to meet him by the door. ?Well, well young lady. I?m sorry to have seemed so standoffish just now. Penelope confirms who you are and confirms that you are a boy despite your appearance. You may call me Uncle Reggie. My proper name is Reginald Ponsonby Mortimer. Mortimer is our family name, but of course, you know that full well. It?s also yours. Anyway my darling, it?s just too formal between family members isn?t it?? His smile broadened as he accorded me my family rights to call him by his first name then he added, ?Penelope also says that you?ve got an old family locket of hers. Are you wearing it now?? I opened my jacket and displayed the beautifully worked solid gold locket as it rested in the valley of my firm bountiful cleavage. Despite his homosexuality, Uncle Reggie?s eyes widened appreciatively and he smiled with delight at my ripe soft curves. He also recognised the locket but it was obvious he appreciated my curves more, though more as a connoisseur of good shape than as a sexual attraction. ?Why good gracious Peter, - I mean Petra, but you?re such a pretty girl, - and yet, - Penelope says you?re definitely a boy and married to little Judith no less.? I smiled and nodded as his eyes widened curiously. ?Judith?s your first cousin isn?t she? Pauline?s girl?? ?Yes,? I replied, anticipating some sort of comment. However, Uncle Reggie did not seem unduly perturbed, instead he smiled supportively. ?Well, keep it in the family, is what we always say.? We had reached the living room by now so he sat me down on an antique and careworn yet prohibitively expensive sofa then offered me a brandy. ?To help you get over what you were upset about in the car just now.? ?Oh thank you so much but sorry, Uncle Reggie, I can?t drink, I?m driving.? ?Oh yes. Sorry. I quite forgot. I haven?t driven in years. Not since dear Charles passed away.? ?Charles was your partner I presume,? I observed. ?Oh yes, lovely man and a wonderful friend. He was an art critic and very urbane. I just miss him so much.? I imagined ?Charles? in my mind?s eye and pictured a perfect fop. When Uncle Reggie took Charles?s picture off the mantelpiece, it was almost a perfect reproduction of my imagined image. A tall slender limp wrested man with a frilly blouse, velvet tight fitting trousers and a loose chiffon scarf. Charles had nicely chiseled fine features though and I could see why Uncle Reggie had found him attractive. Any woman would have been attracted to his beautiful features. Indeed a woman might have thought ?what a waste to be gay?, but I could understand. Everybody is what?s inside his or her head. Uncle Reggie brought me out of my reflections. ?Would you like some tea then?? he asked. I nodded demurely and he minced into the kitchen while I studied some more old photographs displayed on top of a very dusty grand piano. When he returned I was studying a picture of a large florid man holding a shotgun and a brace of some sort of game birds. I think they were pheasants but it was hard to tell because the picture was damaged. ?That?s my grand father, your great, great grandfather. He and your great grandfather were uncle and nephew, that?s how you come to inherit. The primo-geniture line dies with me and that?s how the title reverts back two generations to come round to you through your father. I told you we kept it in the family.? He smiled at this remark before continuing, ?My grandfather and I and never got on for same reason Penelope and I never got on.? I studied the picture as he poured the tea and invited me to take a chocolate ?hob-nob? biscuit then he smiled and turned to the pictures. ?They are all your ancestors, at least the ones who were ever photographed.? ?So where?s grandma and mummy and daddy?? I asked. He stepped around the piano and from the very back of the collection he produced a wedding photograph I had never seen. It was mummy and daddy?s wedding and it showed the whole family lined up with cousins and relations I had never even heard of. Uncle Reggie then went on to identify every one and give a brief rundown of their lives and histories. I was absolutely enchanted with all the detail he supplied. Finally he finished and I sat silently wondering why I had never heard of a fraction of these people nor ever met them. I asked him and he shrugged sadly. ?Well, I can?t answer for Penelope my dear,? continued Uncle Reggie. ?She definitely disapproved of my sexuality and when my older brother was killed in the war, she was angry and shocked to realise that I stood to inherit. I was too young for the war of course.? I pondered this for it hardly seemed to agree with the Grandma I knew and loved, the grandma who almost seemed to encourage my transvestism. Uncle Reggie seemed to be able to read my mind. ?I suppose she hated me because she knew I would not be continuing the family line. No children you see.? Then I realised Uncle Reggie had hit the nail on the head. It was all about family with Grandma. Once she had learned from the doctors that I was not gay and that I would still be able to father children then she was quite happy to accept me as a girl, especially a girl who was going to marry her other granddaughter and provide her with great- grandchildren, not to mention an heir to the title. I realised that under everything, Grandma was still a bit of an upper-class snob. How different was Uncle Reggie who was a true member of the nobility, a baron no less. Here was a laid back, easy going homosexual who had made me utterly welcome and thoroughly comfortable after only the briefest of introductions. There was no formality or ?side? to him at all. By now I was utterly enchanted with his stories and it was very dark. I only realised how late it was when Judith called me on my mobile. I apologised to Uncle Reggie as I snapped open the keyboard of my phone. ?Yes darling.? ?Where are you?? ?I?m with Uncle Reggie.? ?Who?? ?Uncle Reggie; we always knew him as Uncle Mortimer.? ?Who, the baron?? ?Yes the very one. Would you like to speak to him?? Judith?s silence was deafening for a moment. I could hear her mind ticking away, for Great Uncle Mortimer had always been referred to as a pervert by Grandma and now here I was sitting alone with him in his huge rambling house. ?D?you think you?re safe?? Cautioned Judith. My laughter relaxed Judith so I asked her if she wanted to speak to him. She paused again then a thoughtful ?yes? followed. I handed the mobile to Uncle Reggie. ?It?s Judith, your great niece and my wife.? Reggie?s eyes lit up as he squeaked eagerly. ?Hello darling! What a delight to hear from you. My dear, dear, Judith.? ?Yes Uncle Mortimer. How are you?? replied Judith still a bit cautious and formal. ?Oh a bit stiff in the old bones but still getting around. How are you?? ?Very well. What?s Petra doing up there with you?? Uncle Reggie fell silent for a moment then realised something. He had no idea why I had come visiting. ?Why I never thought to ask,? he replied to Judith. He turned to me and frowned. ?Judith wants to know why you suddenly decided to come and see me after all these years.? ?I?ll tell you after you?ve finished talking to Judith,? I replied. With that question temporarily diverted, Uncle Reggie resumed talking to Judith. I smiled as I realised that Uncle Reggie was just like a woman in many of his habits and soon had Judith ?eating out of his hand?. Soon they were chatting like two old friends across a ?garden fence?. Like most women they were chatting on the phone for nearly half an hour. I had washed up the tea things by the time he had finished and he minced into the kitchen to return my mobile to me. ?Why that was just delightful. She?s so sweet. She and Emily want to meet me this Saturday. You as well of course.? I smiled as I slipped the mobile into my shoulder bag and he became more thoughtful. ?So why did you suddenly decide to come and see me?? I decided honesty was the best policy and answered with one word. ?Money.? His face fell slightly and he sighed. ?Well at least you?re honest.? I rushed to reassure him. ?No, it?s not like that Uncle, I was hoping you could possibly organise a loan or something. I?d definitely pay you back. It would be all legal and stuff, proper lawyers and papers and stuff.? He remained silent and I debated as to whether I should try and explain further. Then he nodded towards the kettle. ?You?d better make another pot of tea.? I sighed with relief. ?At least he hadn?t given me an outright refusal.? Once the tea was made we sat beside each other on the sofa and I laid out my plans. He listened then pulled a wry thoughtful smile. ?So you want to mortgage the old pile?? ?Oh not for a huge sum Uncle, just enough so that Judith, Emily and I can raise the deposit to buy a small place in London.? He stared deep into my eyes for several moments then replied. ?Well the old place has been mortgaged before and survived. I suppose we can do something similar again.? His eyes twinkled as I sighed with relief then threw my arms around him. To my surprise, Uncle Reggie had no beard. His face was as smooth as a baby?s. ?Oh thank you! Thank you! Thank you uncle! I promise you you?ll get the money back, if it takes me the rest of my life!? Uncle Reggie became thoughtful again. ?I think I?ve got another proposal, a better one.? ?Oh! Go on. What?s that?? I asked nervously. ?Why don?t you live here and commute into London. It?s less than an hour and it?s an excellent fast train service.? I stood in shocked silence at the simplicity of his suggestion then gasped with excitement. ?Of course!! I hadn?t realised that the trains ran so close to the old pile, what with the estate and all. That would be the perfect solution! We could pay you rent and that would perhaps help with a few essential repairs.? ?Why pay rent. It?ll be yours some day anyway. There are still about a dozen bedrooms in this wing that are habitable. The only issue will be heating. It?s a draughty old place in winter.? I stood in shocked silence as I pondered my great uncle?s situation. ?It must be a nightmare for old Uncle Reggie in the winter. The poor old dear would be grateful for company and support during winter, especially if that company was family, and close family at that. My visit had provided the most wonderful and unexpected dividends.? I finally hugged him tightly and kissed him passionately on the lips before leaving for London. It was late Tuesday night and the traffic was light so I was not surprised to arrive at the hostel within ninety minutes. Uncle Reggie was right! The old pile was in easy rail commuting distance to London. Even though it was late, I still spent until midnight talking things over with Judith and Emily. They just could not believe their luck. ?And you say there?s no danger.? ?Gosh no! Well as far as I can discern. Well unless he?s got some mad lodgers or something. As far as I know, he lives there alone and he?s a couple of years older than Grandma, so that makes him mid eighties. He?s very frail and a perfect sweetie. He couldn?t hurt us even if he tried.? ?Well I?m dying to meet him again,? pronounced Emily. ?Just how could Grandma have been so cruel as to break off with him?? ?Apparently it?s all about producing heirs. You know Grandma well enough. Uncle Reggie was a brave guy to stand up to his family and be honest about his sexuality and personal happiness.? Emily nodded wisely. She was as fully aware of grandma?s preoccupation with ?family?. Anyway, we were so excited, that we decided to drive straight down on the Friday afternoon despite the weekend traffic out of London. Even with the desperate logjam, Judith and I only took three hours nosing through the traffic. Emily however took the train for comparison. and She was there in less than fifty minutes and that included a taxi from the station to the house, she had already been talking for two hours with Uncle Reggie before we arrived. She?d even knocked up a meal and had dinner ready by the time we arrived. ?Oh the train journey was a dream,? reported Emily. ?Couple of stops and there we were. Uncle Reggie was even a little surprised to see me so early. I?ve had the grand tour. Uncle Reggie?s got a woman Called Betty who does for him and she showed me around. I only met her because I arrived unexpectedly early. The other wing and the main central areas of the house are a mess, but this wing?s quite the business. She?s prepared two bedrooms for us. You two will be sleeping in grandma?s old room? ?Well, it?s too dark for the tour tonight,? interjected Uncle Reggie, ?We?ve got plenty of time tomorrow. Come on my dears, let?s dine.? This said, we sat down to dinner and Uncle Reggie was overcome with emotion to have his most immediate family sitting at his table once more. He just broke down and cried with delight. His tears were infectious and soon there wasn?t a dry eye around the table. So much water had passed under the bridge and there was just so much to tell. That night as Judith and I snuggled up together, Emily crept into our bed. We giggled contentedly and chatted about the day. ?He?s such a sweetie isn?t he?? whispered Emily. Judith agreed and added. ?I think Grandma has made a big mistake. Uncle Reggie can?t help being gay.? ?D?you think we should try and effect a reconciliation?? I asked, ?Particularly now that the family line should be continued.? Judith giggled and leant over to kiss me. ?Not just yet darling. Let?s get our lives together first.? ?We all giggled at this remark and I squeezed Judith a little tighter. Judith was even more keen than me about our having children.? Then we chatted about what our bedroom must have witnessed in its several hundreds of years history. ?If this was Great Aunty Daphne?s and Grandma?s shared bedroom, I bet it could tell some stories,? observed Emily, ?They had no other reason to sleep together than, you know.? ?D?you think they were?? wondered Judith. ?Well if they were so what, at least they did their duty by the family as they saw it,? I remarked. ?Come to think of it, perhaps that?s why Grandma was angry with Uncle Reggie. He should have married and begotten children even though he was gay, duty to the family line and all that.? ?It?s not like that for boys though is it?? said Judith, ?Just look at Uncle Reggie, it?s impossible for him to hide his sexuality and he probably wouldn?t even be able to get an erection with a woman. Sometimes gays can?t even get an erection with the most beautiful of women. It?s so much easier for a lesbian to fake it with man.? We chatted for a short while about these issues then drifted off to sleep. It was fairly late on Saturday morning before Uncle Reggie finally knocked on our door. ?Are you awake ladies?? ?Yes uncle, come in!? I replied through the door. He appeared with a heated, breakfast trolley and rolled it up to the bed. Next, his eyes widened with a twinkle when he spotted all three of us together. ?Well, well ladies. Happy families I see. But this makes it easier, now I don?t have to make up a separate tray. Have you slept well?? We all nodded sleepily as we yawned and stretched luxuriously. As I stretched my arms above my head one of my nipples peeped shyly over the lacy cup of my nightie then the whole boob followed. Uncle Reggie smiled as he nodded towards me. I followed his gaze and tried to ease the cup of my nightie back over the stiffening nipple then I blushed as I failed. My nightie was somehow twisted too tight up my back. Ever the gentleman, and a gay one to boot, Uncle Reggie, reached over and straightened out the twisted bootlace strap over my shoulder then adjusted my nightie like some caring mother adjusting her little daughter?s vest. As my nightie became disentangled, he gently spooned my breast back into its proper place and I was too surprised and speechless to react. After making my boob comfortable he stepped back, studied his work and nodded with satisfaction. He had done it with such grace and aplomb that I was just flabbergasted. I hadn?t even felt threatened or offended. However, both of my nipples were now stood out like organ stops but this phased Uncle Reggie not one jot! ?There,? he smiled, ?that?s better. We don?t want you catching a cold and this house is full of draughts.? Judith and Emily?s faces were a picture! Then with his duties clearly finished, Uncle Reggie minced away. Finally, we burst out laughing. It had all been done with such gentility and perfect aplomb! ?Well at least he wasn?t trying to get your boobs out!? squealed Emily as we lay laughing helplessly. Next we slid out of bed and showered before enjoying the meal. It was then that I remembered that in his working life, Uncle Reggie had been a dresser and fashion designer for a small, discreet, up-market fashion house in London. In such a small fashion house he had probably doubled up as designer and dresser to help the models get changed quickly. Spooning girl?s boobs into bra cups had probably been an everyday job to him. As we wolfed down our breakfast we laughed uproariously about the incident and we all agreed, not one of us been offended or felt threatened. Uncle Reggie was an absolute gas! After breakfast, we stored all the breakfast things back onto the trolley then searched along the corridor for some sort of dumb waiter or lift device to return it to the kitchen. After finding it, we wheeled the trolley into the little lift and roped it down to the floor below. Finally we met Uncle Reggie waiting in the main hall at the bottom of the stairs. ?Ready for the grand tour?? he asked. We nodded and set off behind him, each of us mesmerized by his mincing effeminate wiggle. Uncle Reggie could never have disguised his sexuality. At the end of the tour, I was silent and thoughtful. The house was a beautiful place but oh, there was just so much to do and some of it major structural repairs in the derelict west wing. I revised my repair estimate up to millions. Over lunch we discussed the immediate future and concluded our living arrangements. Uncle Reggie was just so pathetically happy to have companions in the house again that he ended up weeping again. Indeed, he was reluctant to even let us return to London to collect our belongings. It was just so sweet to see his eyes light up with an almost pathetic gratitude when we returned on Saturday evening with our car and hired van packed tight with our worldly possessions. This time, his ?woman? Betty, had stayed late just to meet the other two great nieces. She helped us settle in then shared a cup of tea and light supper before driving off to her own home and family. ?Why don?t you have her live in?? asked Emily. ?I?ve never thought to ask her my darlings. D?you think it would be a good idea? I mean it seems so, - you know, patronising, asking her to become a member of the live-in staff.? ?Well you only have to ask. She can only say no.? Uncle Reggie nodded thoughtfully. ?I suppose it might be easier for her. I don?t know much about her family arrangements though. I know she?s got a young daughter and she?s not married. She talks a lot about her little girl.? ?Well d?you want me to ask her?? I suggested. ?Oh would you? Perhaps a new face might not imply some sort of servant thing. ?Does Betty own her own house?? I continued. ?Oh, I?m not sure. I don?t think so, if I remember rightly, she lives on the council estate down Lower Moreton way. D?you know, I?ve never asked her. It seemed so rude to pry.? We three girls smiled again at Uncle Reggie?s sweet gentility. Poor Betty would probably tear our arms off for the chance to live in rent- free on such an idyllic country estate. That same day, I made a point of checking by Betty?s house ?Down Lower Moreton way? and it was as I suspected. It was a sink estate and the last sort of place one could ever hope to raise a young girl decently. I returned back to ?the pile? and left a written letter for Uncle Reggie to give to Betty whilst we were at work on Monday. As I expected, Betty was overwhelmed with gratitude. The idea of bringing up her child away from the awful influences of the slum estate was a huge relief. From our first encounter, I had recognised Betty as a caring individual for she had mothered Uncle Reggie like a broody hen and this despite his outrageously effeminate nature. Within a month, Betty had moved in and been given a pleasant set of rooms in the same wing as us. Naturally her daughter was delighted with the place. The ?old pile? gave her miles of corridors to explore and indulge her childhood fantasies. She also had three new adult friends to bounce off, namely Uncle Reggie?s ?three great nieces?. Another benefit was that Angelica now lived in a different catchment area for a better school. Uncle Reggie was all apologies for not having thought of the arrangement himself and Betty had been too proud to ask. Now ?the old pile? rang to the sound of a child?s laughter for the first time in years. During that year I ran some ideas past Jack Parker, my boss, and he was surprised to learn that I now lived in ?an old pile?. ?I thought ?Flat 5, Mortimer House was some sort of tower block down Balham way,? he choked after learning otherwise. With Uncle Reggie?s permission, I brought Jack out to look it over and he was wildly enthusiastic. ?What! You stand to inherit this?? he gasped as he stared at me with shock. ?And my baronetcy,? added Uncle Reggie unwittingly revealing the secret of my true sex for British titles were inherited by the law of primo- geniture whereas property could be handed on to either sex. My face paled with shock but the remark seemed to pass Jack by. He was too engrossed with the potential of the old house and his mind was already turning ideas over. They were very similar ideas to mine. It was not until late evening as we were driving back to the office that Jack suddenly frowned and turned thoughtfully to me as the car inched through the interminable traffic. ?What did your uncle mean; inherit his baronetcy?? I sat silent as Jack?s brain ticked over. However the busy traffic kept distracting him. He had probably dealt with dozens of old country houses going to rack and ruin and possibly dealt with hundreds of minor nobility as he helped them resolve issues like death duties and finding solutions to the problems with their huge costly old country seats. Jack Parker was well up on the nobility and it?s titles. When the traffic eased he continued again and pressed the same question. ?How could you possibly inherit a baronetcy? That?s a male line inheritance.? I sat nervously debating what to do. Although Jack Parker had obviously been attracted to me, I had not the slightest idea how he might react to my declaring the truth. If Jack was a secret homophobic, I could be at serious risk. He might even beat me to death in a fit of psychopathic, homophobic frenzy. I was frightened. I decided to tell him, but not until we arrived at a set of traffic lights. Fortunately the density of traffic demanded his concentration so I was able to choose my opportunity. I pretended to be looking in my handbag but was actually preparing to make a jump for it if I had to. Eventually, as the traffic densened, the car got stuck and Jack had time to consider his earlier question. He turned again to catch my eye as he repeated the question. ?So?? ?So what?? I stalled. ?So what did your Uncle mean about you inheriting his baronetcy.? There was no way of avoiding an answer this time but at least I had the option of stepping out of the car for the street was grid-locked. I shrugged as casually as I could as I replied. ?Uncle Reggie?s right. When he dies, I inherit his baronetcy and that whole pile.? ?But to do that, you?d have to be a man. I?ve never heard of a distaff baronetcy. It just doesn?t work like that.? ?No, you?re quite right. Only the first-born male or the next nearest male heir can inherit. That?s Sallic law but you know all about that.? Jack fell silent then turned to look at me more closely. Whatever his eyes told him was obviously at odds with any trace of masculinity. For long moments the silence was oppressive then he spoke softly. ?Are you telling me that you were once a male?? ?No, I?m saying I?m still a male and I still stand to inherit. I couldn?t inherit if I was female or had legally become a female.? Jack?s jaw sagged as he finally realised the facts. ?Oh my God! So you are telling me you are actually a male?? I decided to bite the bullet. If he found my answer too unpalatable then our ways would have to part. I at least now had an alternative lifeline even if it was a tenuous one. The ?old pile? had real potential for some sort of development and I was right in the frame for any such move. I answered deliberately and slowly. ?Yes.? The traffic started to move again and for a few seconds Jack was preoccupied but when the car stopped again he spoke softly. I wasn?t sure if it was a threat or shock. ?So what am I to do with you?? I was at angry at this response. He had spoken as though I was some sort of property to be dealt with as he saw fit. Once again I felt that my very humanity was being attacked. I had no human rights because I was some sort of transvestite sub-human. For a few seconds I bit my tongue. Then I replied with an equal degree of deliberation. ?I ? am - not - yours - to - be ? done - with.? Jack immediately recognised my anger and apologised. ?Shit! I?m sorry. I didn?t mean it like that, but what about the women at the office? I don?t want to lose you. You?re too good a worker. But, - I mean, - well, - toilets and things? What about the other girls?? ?What about them. They don?t know and they don?t need to know. How would they find out?? ?But, - well, - there?s the law. As an employer, if I learn of anything like this and don?t do anything, the women might have a case against me. What happens if they see your, - your, - you know?? I debated whether to tell him about my mutilation but decided against it. There was no need for him to know. If I was certain of one thing it was that I was deemed legally to be a women because I was technically ?in transition?. What was more, I had a medical certificate to support my case. Nobody had ever determined how long that ?transition? needed to be. I could remain ?in transition? for the whole of my life. However, if ?women seeing my penis? was the only argument he could come up with then it might later be convenient to let him know that I had no penis. For now however, my secret was best kept with me. I felt that I had a stronger hand to play than he did, particularly if he wanted to have any part in plans for ?the old pile?. I decided to test the waters and see what his real feelings were. So I replied, ?I don?t intend to ever let the women see my privates, after all, women don?t get the chance to look at each other on the toilet, but if you?re that worried about my gender, I suppose I had better resign from my job. I mean, if it?s going to cause legal problems, what?s the use of my staying.? ?No, - no! There?s no need to be that drastic, it?s just that, well, - perhaps you could use a, - a sort of dedicated toilet; you know, one just for you.? ?But that would just compound the problem. The other women would be bound to wonder why the junior girl in the office had to have her own lavatorial arrangements and then it would all come out. No. If it?s an issue, then perhaps I?d better resign.? I could sense Jack silently panicking at the thought of maybe losing the chance of a potentially huge deal, for not only was there the chance to do something with the house but there was also the large estate. I already had a pretty accurate idea of the value of such land, so close to London and yet not in the green belt and with excellent rail connections. I sat silent and waited as Jack debated the pros and cons. Eventually I noticed his shoulders sag ever so slightly. He knew I held the trump hand because the house and estate was definitely going to be mine one day. Uncle Reggie would never ever countenance selling it off. However, I was also wondering how or if I could somehow surmount the problems confronting my inheritance, death duties being the foremost in my mind. Jack spoke again. ?Look, I?m sure we can work something out.? ?Like how?? I pressed, ?You?ve already said there could be legal issues.? ?No but, look, if I somehow promoted you and put you in the office next to mine, you could share my toilet.? ?Yeah, that would work. You had enough problems with the last ?hysterical Hilda? I?m sure the others would be pleased. They?d immediately presume it was sex.? Jack frowned. I was among the prettier members of the staff and jealousy amongst women could be a cruel thing. Besides, I didn?t think it was fair for me to be promoted over some perfectly capable senior women on the staff. That just wasn?t fair and I new all about unfairness. I also realised that now I had no need of promotion. The potential locked up in the ?old pile? was huge! All I needed was a sympathetic way of unlocking the collateral without losing the family estate. After all, I still recognised that I held the estate in trust for future generations. ?Instead of that, why don?t you let me be the one to handle the deal over the estate. There?s good money to be made in that old pile so I promise you that if you don?t go blabbing about my gender then the other girls will never find out. Believe me. That?s the best solution.? Jack finally nodded as we were turning into the underground car park. I had become so engrossed in working out the property deal that I had not noticed that it was after six and the office had closed. I was now alone with Jack in the empty, underground car park. The situation I had always sworn I would never put myself in. I could have kicked myself for my stupidity. As he parked the car I moved to open my door when Jack reached across and rested his hand upon my knee. ?What d?you think you?re doing?? I gasped trying to assert myself whilst simultaneously trying to recover my confidence. I anticipated another crude effort to somehow get his hand under my skirt but instead he slid his hand up the outside of my skirt before gently grasping my wrist. Then his grip tightened slightly. ?What d?you think you?re doing?? I repeated. ?Let go of my hand!? I reached to open the door but he had locked it from his side with the electric locks. He looked into my eyes and frowned nervously. I sensed this was not the usual grab and grope thing. Then he swallowed nervously and whispered. ?You?re not bullshitting about this transvestite thing, are you?? For one ghastly moment I thought he was about to go homophobic on me. Occasionally some men went berserk if they discovered that the ?girl? they really fancied happened to have the wrong equipment between her legs. I thought he might be so shocked that he had discovered the ?woman? he fancied was a girl that he was building up to a fit of rage. I couldn?t have been more wrong. As I fiddled uselessly with the locked door, (there must have been some sort of electric child-locking device) he unfastened his belt and dragged my hand towards his crotch. His grip was so strong that I couldn?t resist and I was now beginning to panic. ?Let go of my hand!? I squealed. He kept forcing my hand towards his crotch then he unzipped his fly with the other hand and forced my hand inside his trousers. I began to feel sick. The very idea of being forced to somehow fondle another man?s genitals made me want to retch. I made one last pathetic attempt at resistance. ?If you don?t stop, I?ll scream.? He said something about, - ?It?s not how you think; honestly!? These words puzzled me but I still struggled and was about to draw a deep breath to scream when he placed his hand over my mouth and finally forced my hand deeper into his trousers as he fiddled with his shirttails. I struggled harder and tried to bite his fingers but his hand was too powerful. My hand was now deep inside his trousers and it was only now that I discovered what he was doing. My fingers fetched up against an erection encased in a silky material that could only have been the soft flimsy material of a woman?s panties. I gasped for a second as my fingers made certain of what I was feeling then I turned to stare into his face. He spoke again, ?Promise you won?t scream!? I wagged my head to try and indicate that I would not scream but he persisted in squeezing my mouth closed. ?I mean it. You must realise now what I?m wearing. I?m like you. D?you understand? I?m a tranny as well!? I stopped struggling and stared stupidly into his eyes. I felt his grip on my jaw and mouth relax slightly so I sat perfectly still and carefully fingered his rigid erection. Then I demonstrated my co- operation by carefully reaching further down into his trousers and rooting around in his crotch. There I confirmed that the two bands either side of his erection were the front straps of a multi-strapped suspender belt. I finally located the clips attached to his stocking tops and slid my fingers up and down the silky hose. He gasped erotically then relaxed his grip on my jaw some more and I was finally able to speak. ?Oh my God! You are a tranny!? I gasped. He nodded guiltily then whimpered guiltily. ?Yes, I am. Are you still angry with me?? For a moment I was at a loss as to how to reply. I sat up and removed my hands from his trousers and tried to compose myself again. ?Well?? he demanded again, ?Are you still angry with me?? I struggled for some suitable words then finally found them. ?OK! So you?re a tranny. Just because I?m a tranny as well doesn?t give you the right to force yourself upon me. I?m not gay. I don?t want to play with your cock!? ?But you were playing with him just now.? ?No, I was confirming what I?d discovered. OK! Like I said, you?re a tranny. So am I but I don?t do the gay thing. I like girls! I?m married for God?s sake!? ?Married!? he squawked. ?Yes, married! I?m a heterosexual transvestite. D?you understand what I mean. ?Of course I do! I like girls as well,? he cried, ?I thought you were a girl; I mean just look at you!? ?Well thanks for the compliment, but now that misunderstanding?s cleared up. Shall we just forget all this ever happened?? Jack gave a long slow sigh then shrugged his shoulders. ?Shit! This is a right fuck-up! Promise me you?ll never say anything about this in the office.? ?Why should I? You say nothing and I say nothing. Call it quits.? He looked at me thankfully then sagged with relief. ?Thanks. You?re a real trooper. What say you and I just go for a drink? Nothing else just a drink.? ?I can?t, I?m meeting my wife at the station.? ?Well invite her along. There, I can?t be more sincere than that. Which station d?you use?? ?Victoria. Judith works in Pimlico.? ?Well that?s just serendipity. I know a tranny club not far from there. Ask her if she wants to come.? He unlocked the car door to demonstrate I was free to go if I wished, so I stepped outside and called Judith on my mobile. ?Where?? ?The Crossover.? ?But that?s a tranny place!? ?Exactly, I?ve just discovered Jack?s a tranny. He wears lingerie and stockings under his suit.? This news didn?t phase Judith one bit. We often went to tranny bars. ?OK then, but what about Emily. She arranged to meet me tonight where we usually meet.? ?Well invite her. The more the merrier.? Emily, whilst not necessarily a tranny lover; was broad-minded enough to take trannies easily in her stride. After all, she had lived with me for years and even been intimate with me. Emily often met up with us when going home usually on Tuesdays and Thursdays. On other days she got off early and was usually home before us unless she had arranged a shopping expedition with her twin sister. When Jack and I met Judith and Emily under the clock at Victoria Station he was stunned to learn that they were identical twins. He parked the car and we walked the couple of blocks into Pimlico and the Crossover club. Jack was disappointed to learn that Emily had a childhood sweetheart, David Pickering right back from our school days, but the evening was a success and we even ended up discussing plans for ?The old Pile?. On the last train home later that night, both Judith and Emily expressed their concerns. ?I hope you don?t intend selling the place,? said a worried Emily. ?No way!? I protested. ?We are just looking at ways of repairing the place. Perhaps renovating the west wing and turning it into some high- grade rental apartments. It?s ideal for rich commuters, especially with the parkland surrounding it.? ?But you?ll not sell it,? added Judith to reassure herself, ?after all, even Uncle Reggie?s struggled to hold on to the estate. It?s been the family seat for hundreds of years.? ?I?ve no intentions of selling it. Uncle Reggie?s already deeding it over to me as a gift over seven years to ameliorate the death duties.? ?Will he live seven years?? giggled Emily. ?If we look after him, he should do. Longevity runs in our family,? I finished. ?And if Betty looks after him well.? We fell silent on this note as the train swept effortlessly through the night. End of Chapter Seven - To Be Continued