The Kitten Club, Part One free porn video

It was my girlfriend's birthday and she wanted to go to this place called the "Kitten Club". My name is Frank and my girlfriend is Joanne. I'd never even heard of the place, but it was her birthday, so her choice. When I found out what went on there, I wouldn't have gone anywhere near it for a very good reason I'll tell you about in a minute. You wouldn't have even known the club was there. It was down this dark alley, lit by a weak streetlight, and just a green door with "The Kitten Club" above in a faulty old neon light. A couple of bouncers looked twice at us but let us in. Once we were through that door, we were into a different world altogether. It was like nowhere I had ever been. There was music, but not the din you get in most clubs, so loud you can't even hear yourself speak. Just a pleasant volume so you could talk if you wanted to or keep quiet and look if that was your desire. There was a wonderful buzz about the place. A kitten showed you to a table and took your order for drinks. When the club had first opened, apparently the kittens had been dressed as you might imagine, in sexy little basques with kitten ears and a tail. Stockings, high heels. But these days they wore different costumes every night. One night the kittens might be in sexy schoolgirl outfits, with just the right amount of bare, pale flesh between their stocking tops and their short skirts. Another time it might be Magic Night, with the kittens dressed as magician's assistants or fairies, complete with wand. French maids, Roman slave girls; it was always something different and the customers loved it. You sat down and watched as the kittens flounced around, mincing in their high heels and flirting with the many male customers. The kittens would go up to the bar, behind which stood a young guy. He would pour the drinks, which they would take to the tables, knowing as they stood at the bar that the customers were eyeing their pantied bums. After a while, the cabaret would start, a sort of burlesque with dancing and comedy. The question is, of course, why would Joanne want to go to a place like that? Does she want me looking at other women? Actually, her eyes lit up at the very thought of the Kitten Club and when we got in there, she loved it, and she loved the uneasy look on my face. I was uneasy for one reason, which I'm sure you've guessed. All the kittens were men. I say men, but there wasn't anything masculine about them. Once upon a time they may have been boys, but that was a long time ago. They'd quite clearly all lost their masculinity. I didn't like to think about exactly how they had lost their manhoods. And not only that. Judging by the cleavage, and the lack of any sort of bumps in their groins (yes, I looked) they were obviously on hormones or something. I dreaded to think but I guessed some of them had even had their manhood chopped off. What a thought. I want to say here and now that I have absolutely nothing against anyone of any sexual persuasion at all. Gay, lesbian, bisexual, tri- sexual, it's all fine with me. Transgender, transsexual, transvestite, whatever turns you on. No problem at all. Only to say that it's not for me. I'm straight, always have been and always will be. And even though I have nothing against people who are different in that way or any other, I don't particularly want to spend time among them. The thought of it makes my stomach turn. Think about it. Being a man is a wonderful thing. He's strong, he's tough, he's male. He smells like a man. It's nothing to be ashamed off. I'm one. And if that sounds gay, it isn't. I don't want to get intimate with men, I want to be with girls. We're very different, men and women, and that's what makes life so great. But there they were; these males who had thrown all that away just so they could mince around in high heels and panties. And the thought of what they got up to with the customers really made my stomach turn. But as I say, live and let live. What goes on behind closed doors is their business. If it works for them, go for it. Just don't include me. But it was Joanne's birthday and if she wanted to go there, that was what we were going to do. Just don't complain when I take you to the football on my birthday, I said. Joanne could see me squirming as we sat at our table. She could clearly read my thoughts and that made her laugh. She was loving my discomfort. "What's the matter, Frank?" she giggled. "Seen anyone you fancy yet?" I didn't see the joke. "Or perhaps you'd like to go a bit further. Is that it? I think you'd look positively cute in that little outfit." She pointed at one of the kittens. If I hadn't known, there was no way I'd have known that kitten had ever been a male. He was dressed in the shortest of white mini-skirts, so short it barely covered the white knickers I could see he was wearing. White stockings and knee-high white high-heeled boots. On top he wore just a white bra and he had more in that bra than just padding. There was a definite shape to him. You wouldn't say he had breasts like a woman but then again, you wouldn't exactly say he had a chest like a man's. His waist was thin and his hips were wider than the average male. He had slim shoulders and very little musculature. Not exactly an hourglass figure, but certainly not the straight up and down of a masculine outline. Must have been the hormones. He was sort of half and half. Very definitely unmale. His hair was dark and long and his make-up had been expertly applied. I wasn't going to keep quiet about this all night and I did feel the need to make my position clear to Joanne. "What sort of man would do that to himself?" I said. "Being a man is... a wonderful thing. You don't just give it up. You're strong, physically and mentally. I'm all for equality between the sexes but it's not for nothing that men have always ruled the world." She looked shocked. "Yes. It's true. Anything positive that's been done in this world has been done my males. A lot of negative as well, I give you, but it's always men who control things. Don't look at me like that. You know I think women are equal. They are. But the fact is, it's a man's world. Who'd want to give all that up? To turn yourself into a female? Who'd want to have their cock chopped off? It's unnatural." Joanne snorted at that. I knew why she was laughing; she didn't have to say. She was thinking about our sex life. I'm big enough to admit this: I like the woman in charge. I like the woman to go on top and be the sexually aggressive one. And while Joanne was always called Joanne in normal day-to-day life, when we were in bed, it was occasionally "Jo". I wondered if she heard it as "Joe". She was thinking about all that and that's why she laughed. And there's another thing. I don't particularly like to talk about this, but I suppose I have to. I'm not the biggest boy in the world. It doesn't bother me and Joanne has always said it doesn't bother her. It's not how big it is, it's what you do with it. That's what she's always said. One of these kittens bought us our drinks. His name was Colette, and made sure he wiggled his bum in that mini-skirt as he walked through the club. There were plenty of men looking at him lustily, something he had no problem with. I heard someone call him a "complete doll" as they stuck their hand up his skirt and fondled his upper leg, something he didn't stop them from doing. Even though I was talking to Joanne, I couldn't help but watch everything that was going on around us. As I said earlier, there was this boy behind the bar. About sixteen or seventeen, probably too young to even be in a bar. I'm nineteen and I was too young to be in a place like this myself. I don't think I'll ever be old enough. This lad was different to the kittens. He certainly was not one of them. The kittens would mince up to him and the boy would get the drinks, put them on a tray, and the kitten would sashay round the club to the tables. He was dressed in white jeans and a tight white T-shirt. There were a couple of men at the bar, buying drinks straight from him and engaging him in conversation. Nothing unusual in all that. You'd call him a "pretty boy". I wondered if he was gay but I decided that he was not. Women like pretty boys as much as some men do. I made up a story for him, like you do. I told myself that he was as straight as me, and had taken this job because he needed the money. He had to parade around in this slightly androgynous way, titillating the male customers in a different way to the kittens, but doing it just the same. He was probably appalled at having to do that. I imagined that he had a girlfriend at home and was doing all this simply because it was a job. I knew I might have been completely wrong, but that was the story I invented for him. We watched the show, which I quite enjoyed, I have to say. And I admit I liked the atmosphere in the Kitten Club. It really was part of the city's hidden underside. You know all these things go on, but often you don't know where. Then you find out it's right under your nose and you love the thought that you are in on something a bit secret or exclusive. Almost like being in 1930s Berlin, I told myself. Anything goes. The straight people are in the suburbs, tending their garden, and we're here, in this neon-lit underworld where the wildest fantasies are played out. I was happy to watch and not be part of it. Everyone was so relaxed and friendly probably because we were all in on a secret. And I liked that. It was so different from the cold and impersonal world on the outside. I really didn't care what these kittens got up to. I don't mind if they suck other men's cocks, even allow themselves to be... you know. If it made them happy, then go for it. Just don't include me. I'd quite happily go back to my home in the suburbs. But being a spectator, seeing all these things go on, it did excite me, in a way. I have to admit that. Disgust and horrify me as well, but it there was something fascinating about it. Perhaps because it was so forbidden and hidden. Colette came back to ask us if we wanted more drinks. I pointed out that the barman seemed to have deserted his post, so we might have to wait for our drinks. "Charlie?" said Colette. "She's otherwise engaged for a few minutes," he said, winking at Joanne, who found it very funny. "She?" I said. "Charlie looked the only bloke on the staff." Cue more laughter from the pair of them. "Just about now," said Colette, "he's finding out he isn't a "he" any more. He's finding out it's much more fun as a "she"." I had no idea what that meant. When Colette had wiggled off, Joanne explained to me. "Weren't you watching?" she said. "See that door over there, that red one? Charlie went in there with that man from the bar." "So?" I said. "Are you an idiot or something?" Obviously I was. But the penny did finally drop. I kept an eye on the door and it eventually opened. Charlie came out. He had this look on his face that I find it hard to describe. Slightly embarrassed, as if people were watching him, which they were. He looked confused but happy. But more than anything, I noticed his eyes were almost popping out of his head. "Post-coital," whispered Joanne. "What?" "She's just been fucked. As a girl." "Don't be ridiculous," I said. "He, and he is a he, I don't know why you are calling him anything different, may have had sex with that bloke, I don't deny that, but what do you mean, as a girl? He's gay. That's fine. I'm a bit disappointed in that, to tell the truth, but live and let live. However, it was two blokes in there." "Not any more," said Joanne. "Two guys may have gone in, but only one came out. The other came out a female. You could tell from his... sorry... her face. She's just had an orgasm. A female orgasm." "Rubbish," I said. But there was something funny about Charlie. A few moments later, the man who had been in there with him came out with a very smug grin on his face. He returned to his seat at the bar and high-fived the person next to him. "I think that was actually her first time," whispered Joanne. "Charlie's just lost her cherry." A couple of kittens went up to Charlie and spoke to him. He couldn't stop a little smile from creeping across his face, which was the cue for one of the kittens to hug him. The other one joined in. It wasn't the sort of embrace that men would do, say in a sports situation where one of them has just scored a goal, or the hug of two old friends who haven't seen each other for years. It was a girly hug between the three of them. One of the kittens produced some sort of garment. I couldn't quite see what it was, except that it was white. The kitten smiled and handed whatever it was to Charlie. He seemed to be expecting it. I could see what it was. Oh no. Charlie took off his t-shirt, and put the thing on. It was a bra. The kittens helped him adjust it until it was comfortable. They also played with his hair, trying to put it in place for him. It was ridiculous. Whatever had happened to Charlie in that room, he certainly hadn't come out with tits. The man, the one he had been in the room with, bought a drink off him and looked at Charlie as if he owned him. It was worse than that. He did possess Charlie. The man had "had" him. Charlie looked at him in this slightly embarrassed, eyes down way that a woman looks at a man when they've just had illicit sex. He tucked his hair behind his ear, in just the way a woman does, and fingered his nipple through his bra. The man loved it. I felt Joanne put her hand on my leg. She worked it up to my groin. "Well, well well," she said. "Our little friend here seems to like Charlie, and what has just happened to her." She had to work her fingers into my groin to find it. I wish she hadn't said "little". "I think you'd look cute in that bra," she continued. "And," she said, feeling my swelling penis, "I think our little friend would like to see you in a bra as well." "Dream on," I said. She was just trying to wind me up. Despite my misgivings, we did have a great time at the Kitten Club. There wasn't the normal hassle of nightclubs, and I have to admit I was very taken with what I'd call the decadence of it all. Most of all, we just liked the atmosphere. Later in the evening, when it was a bit quieter, Colette did sit down and speak to us, making sure he crossed her legs high up at the thigh, in the female fashion. I couldn't help but ask exactly what was going on. I knew they were men, males at least, boys was perhaps a better term, but those breasts did look mighty real. What was it, hormones or surgery? Colette laughed. "Which century are you from?" she laughed. He explained that in the past, they would have had to take female hormones, male hormone blockers, pills, and have all sorts of surgery, both taking things away and adding other things. Joanne laughed when he said it like that. But these days, it was much simpler, safer and more effective. There was a drug that had been developed in America that would "make some changes" as he put it, depending on the person who was taking it. It wasn't even really a drug, he said. If you were totally one hundred per cent male, with no female in you at all, and there weren't many of those, said Colette, the drug would have no effect. You could take as much of it as you wanted, and nothing would happen. However, if there was a part of you that was female, the drug would bring that out. Colette said he was a firm believer in reincarnation, and that he had been a woman in previous lives. Therefore, there was plenty of female in him. He had started taking the drug just to find out, and within a few days the beginnings of a perky little pair of breasts had started to appear. Shaving had become less and less necessary, and he had found himself losing weight. His "thing" as he put it, had got smaller but hadn't disappeared completely. He was now at the point where he had to decide whether to hurry the process up. I knew what that meant. His, and he looked at Joanne as he said this, thing had been quite big, and it was hanging on for dear life. Now he was thinking of a trip to somewhere like Thailand, from which he would come back "being able to wear a thong without worrying about it." "Why don't you try the pills?" Colette said to me. "Yes!" said Joanne. "Prove your manhood once and for all!" "No way," I said. "Absolutely, not a chance in hell." They both giggled. "That's because he's scared," said Joanne. "He doesn't know what's going to happen. He might be a girl after all." "Don't you mean SHE'S scared," said Colette, and the two of them fell about the place laughing. "If you're all man," said Colette, "this will confirm it. Nothing will happen." "I don't need it confirmed," I said. "I'm quite sure of my sexuality thank you very much. And I think it's about time we were going, don't you?" "Well, if you're worried that you'll change sex, you'd better not take it. If you can't deal with it, better off denying it, eh?" said Joanne. "Sometimes," said Colette, "men, real men that is, they take the pill and it enhances their masculinity. Their thingies actually get bigger. True." "He could certainly use that," said Joanne. Thanks very much, lover. No, I won't be taking your tablets, I said. And it's not because I'm scared of what might happen. I was quite happy in my sexuality and I didn't have to prove anything to anyone. The pair of them carried on giggling in that way girls do when they think they've got something over a man. Soon it was time to go home. Joanne was clearly quite turned on by the whole thing. We got a taxi home and she was ready for her birthday shag. We'd always had a pretty healthy sex life. As I said, I don't mind it when she takes the lead. The game was that we would have a bit of a struggle, I would let her win the fight, and she'd end up on top, holding me down and fucking me. I could have pushed her off of course, but she did get off on that sort of thing. So did I, to tell the truth. But that night, she went much further. She wanted to "role play". "So," she said, pinching my bum as we walked into the flat. "You liked that, didn't you, Frankie? "Do you like being called that, Frankie? Or perhaps you'd rather Francesca, or Francine. Or are you one of those girls who like to leave their past behind, and take a completely different name? How about Louise? You look like a Louise. What would you like me to call you, lover?" "Frank," I said. Don't get me wrong. I was up for the shag. I knew I had to play along for a while. "Oh, I don't think that's a very good name for my own personal kitten," she said, unbuttoning my shirt. She fingered my nipple and tweaked it. I admit I did gasp a bit. In one sense it was quite painful, but in another very nice. I'd never had my nipples tweaked before. "Mmm," she said. "She likes that, doesn't she?" She moved to my other nipple and got the same response. "I'm the man around here," I said. "We'll see about that," she said. She pushed me onto the sofa and sat on top of me. She undid my shirt and had a look at my nipples. "Hasn't she got nice little boobies," she said. All of a sudden she was on them. With her mouth. Licking. Nibbling. It's hard to admit but I loved it. I can imagine how women feel when they have their boobs teased and licked. If this feels so good to me, what must it feel like for a person with a proper pair of boobs? We both undressed and when she got her bra off, she laid it across my chest. "There we are," she said. "Doesn't she look nice in her bra?" I was well away with it all. Typical man, the blood that makes my cock as stiff as a rod has clearly drained from my brain. I wasn't aware of anything, except I wanted Joanne to impale herself on it. Which she did. Obviously, she had enjoyed all she had seen at the Kitten Club, and she gave me the humping of my life. I could tell what she was thinking. Even though it was my cock buried inside her, she was imagining that it was the other way round. She didn't have to say anything. I even started to imagine that myself. There I was, underneath, my partner fucking me, and it was easy to imagine the cock was attached to her instead of me. One of the differences between the sexes is that men come down from their sexual high with a bump. Immediately after I came, I felt very guilty and almost dirty. Joanne's bra was still more on me than it was her, so I threw it off. I lifted her off me, something I could have done at any time before but didn't choose to, and got myself ready for bed. Joanne knew that I was feeling a bit dirty so, to give her credit, she didn't make a big thing of it. But I couldn't help notice a cruel little smile on her face. A smile that said something had changed between us. It was there as we got into bed, and it was still there in the morning. "See you later, babe," she said to me as she left for work. Not totally out of order, a woman calling her man "babe". But more usual for a man to call a woman that. And there was no doubt that this what Joanne had intended. However, I wasn't going to worry. If it brought a bit of excitement into our love life, something new, that was a good thing. It meant I could get my end away more than ever I have to admit I did think rather a lot about the Kitten Club over the next few weeks. It was all so different to everywhere else in the city. It was so exotic, so new. As you walked out of the cold and unfriendly street, through that door into the forbidden and hidden chamber, you got a thrill. Joanne was working late quite a lot and one night I stopped off at the Kitten Club on the way home. Just for a relaxing drink. It was "fairy night" and the kittens were dressed as a fairies, complete with diaphanous short skirt, frilly top, and magic wand. And they were certainly enjoying themselves. A whole range of emotions flooded through me when I saw Charlie, the barman from the other night. Then, he had been dressed in this androgynous way, the sort of thing a gay man would find attractive, but not totally gay in itself, until he had put that bra on. If I was hoping, and I was, that he had felt disgusted with himself and had suddenly reasserted his masculinity, I was wrong. Charlie wasn't wearing a T-shirt tonight. He wasn't even wearing his jeans. He was wearing the fairy outfit. He'd been turned into a kitten. And he had what looked very much like the beginnings of cleavage. I know women have all sorts of tricks with bras to make it look as if their tits are bigger. Pushed together, pulled apart, pushed up. But I wasn't sure you could make it look like you had tits if you were completely flat-chested. But that was what Charlie appeared to have done. Looking at him in this top, you'd swear that couldn't all be done with tape, or with a sock stuffed in each cup. Obviously, that's what it must have been, though. The other night he'd just been a boy, albeit a slightly effeminate one. All right, I'm not that naive. I accept we'd seen him lose his manhood. He'd clearly enjoyed it and had probably had sex with a string of other men since. I'm sure they would have been queuing up to have their way with this girly-boy. But even if Charlie had started taking these pills straight away, there was no way he would have breast development in those few days. He was also wearing make-up. Not over the top cosmetics that would make him look like a drag queen, but just a touch of lipstick on his pouting, but still male lips. I know about as much about make-up as I do about bras, but it was clear he had done his face, or had it done for him. Foundation, blusher, eye-shadow and mascara, all done very tastefully. And didn't the customers love it. They were getting in line to get their drinks from Charlie, and making sure he saw the big tip they pressed into his hand. What they were hoping for in return, I dreaded to think, but whatever it was Charlie looked as if he was happy to provide it I noticed the man who had gone into the room with him the other night. His eyes were casting around the club. A couple of times I even caught him looking at me. With Charlie getting all the attention, it meant the other kittens had more time on their hands than they had the other night, and Colette, the one who had served us, had time to have a chat with me. "Pretty, isn't she?" she said. I have to call Colette a "she". I can't think of him as a man. "Who?" I replied. "Charlotte." "You mean Charlie?" "He was called Charlie, that's right," said Colette as if she had difficulty remembering. "She doesn't like that any more. Now she's called Charlotte. She's actually taken a job as a kitten now. Pretty, isn't she?" I agreed. She... sorry... he was certainly pretty. Normally, I wouldn't have asked about Charlie's "cleavage". But I did want to know because it seemed so real. I don't know if it was because I had had a couple of drinks, or the relaxed atmosphere of the Kitten Club, but it just came out. I asked Colette about Charlie's tits. Had they really grown that quickly? "Blossoming, isn't she?" said Colette. I couldn't help but ask what happened in the trouser department. "You seem to be very interested in it, lover," she said. "Are you sure you don't want to give it a try? You might like it. It's much more fun this way. Girls have much more than boys. Really. Do you want to try the pills? There's no risk. What happens depends on you. With you, it might just disappear altogether. Give up the ghost. I wasn't that lucky." "You said you were thinking of ... you know," I said, looking down at her groin. She laughed. She put her fingers together to make a pair of scissors. "Snip, snip!" she said. "You seem very interested it. A little too interested if I may say so. I'm so glad I don't have that awful male pride any more. Who's got the biggest dick, all that. You're much better off without one. But as I say, there's still a little bit of boy in me, or on me, sad to say. I think I will have to have the snip." What a thing for a man to say. Let me stress, I have no problem with people behaving in whatever way they see fit, but a man wanting to have his manhood chopped off? It's unnatural. "I always knew with Charlotte, of course," she said. " When Charlie started here, he said he was straight. Straight-ish, anyway. Even had a girlfriend. God knows what she made of Charlie. He said he was only doing it because he needed a job. But I knew. I asked him straight away, if he wanted to screw one of the kittens. He said that he didn't. I knew he was telling the truth. So I said there were only two reasons anyone came into the Kitten Club. One was to screw a kitten." "And what's the other reason?" I said. "Well, let me ask you. Did you come here to screw a kitten?" "No," I said. "I didn't think so." "So what's the second reason for coming here?" I asked. "Because you want to become one." She looked straight at me, as if she could see into my soul. I could feel myself going red and getting a little hot. "It's okay, you know," Colette said. "It's the most natural thing in the world. You might not think so yourself, but I can tell. Look at me. I was working on a building site before I started here. Can you believe that?" She flexed her arm muscles, if you could call them that. The answer to his question was no, I couldn't see her working on a building site. With thin little arms like that, she simply wouldn't be strong enough. "What happened? How did you end up like this?" I said. Colette couldn't help but smile. "You want to know the truth?" I did. "I got a taste for cock." She looked at me, daring me to disapprove or be offended. I wasn't, so she carried on. "I wouldn't say I was ever gay, or anything like that, but I suppose I must have been. I'd always had girlfriends, although I must say I always preferred it with the other person on top, if you know what I mean." I coloured up again, thinking of what had happened with me and Joanne, but I don't think she noticed. "I've always been the one who wants to be fucked and not do the fucking. And then we were in this house, clearing it out to be refurbished. A woman had left some clothes behind. I was just looking at them. Underwear, bras, that kind of thing. There was this bloke on the building site ? he was an absolute brute, Frankie ? and he said I'd look pretty good in those knickers. It was a very strange feeling. So intense. It was like there was some force, commanding me to put them on. I couldn't stop myself. I did try but it was like I was hypnotised. To cut a long long story short, I did look good in the knickers. He thought so anyway. Before we knew it, he was all over me. That brute took my virginity, Frankie. Well, I gave it to him. Gave him my cherry. Someone saw us, and that was it for my career as a building site labourer. I could hardly carry on in that environment when I'd been seen wearing a nightie sucking the foreman's cock. I knew about this place, so here I am. All the girls here will have a similar story. And look at us. Be truthful, have you ever seen a happier bunch of people?" I hadn't thought about it in that way but Colette was absolutely right. They all looked very satisfied in their new skins. Even Charlotte. Sorry, Charlie. "But don't you think," I said, pointing to Charlie, "that it's sort of sad? Being a man is a thing. I'm not talking about being a tough guy, or a smart arse, or whatever, just a regular normal guy. Men get a bad press. It's a female world, more and more now. I know that. People think there's something wrong in being a male, but there isn't. And there's someone who's given it up." Given it up he certainly had. Charlie was out collecting glasses from the tables and as he attended to one table, one of the customers came up behind him. He pushed his groin right into Charlie's bum and reached round to pick him up with both arms. One hand found its way into Charlie's bra, and the other down the front. Charlie wriggled as if he wanted to get away. But by wiggling his bum like that, all it did was make the man's erection even bigger and harder, a fact not lost on Charlie. The man was grinding himself in Charlie's bum and Charlie seemed to be enjoying it. I was worried by the way Colette was speaking to me. Just her tone of voice, the way she was sitting. It was confidential, trusting. What worried me was that this was not the way the kittens behaved with the customers, the ones who wanted to fuck them. With those people, Colette and the other kittens were flirty, sexy. With me, it was just like we were having a girly chat. That wasn't the only time I went to the Kitten Club. Joanne seemed to be working late more and more often, so I'd often pop in there, if only for a quick drink. As for the sex with Joanne, that had certainly received a boost by our recent experiences. One night we were sitting watching the television and Joanne said to me: "What are you doing?" I wasn't doing anything, and I told her so. "Look," she said, pointing to my chest. I hadn't even noticed it myself but I was fingering my nipple. "Bring them over here," she ordered. "Bring what?" I said. "Bring them over here," she repeated herself. I knew perfectly well what she was talking about, so I went over to where she was sitting. I started to undo my shirt but she told me to stop. "It's much more fun if I do it," she said. She did so, and started to kiss and nibble on my nipples. "Hold on a minute," she said, and she got something out of her bag. She tried to push a pill into my mouth. "Joanne!" I said. "What the hell do you think you are doing?" "What's with the Joanne?" she said. "It's Joe when we are like this. That's Joe with an "E". And that's the matter? Afraid?" This was the first time she had actually spoken about the Jo or Joe thing. I knew I was right. "I'm not taking a pill that will turn me into a woman," I said. "Aah, you admit it: it would turn you into the girl you are inside. You're afraid. If you were a man, if you are a man, it won't make any difference." "I am a man." "Then prove it." I'd had enough of this. "For fuck's sake," I said. I grabbed the pill and swallowed it. "There," I said. "Look. I haven't suddenly grown tits." She smiled an evil smile. I knew what she was thinking. That we would soon see. But I knew perfectly well why I had taken that pill. Just to shut her up. There was obviously no way anything was going to happen to me. Not a chance in hell. Before I knew it I was on my back on the living room floor with her on top of me, insisting that I call her Joe as she called me Frankie. As I say, whatever turns you on. It turned her on, that was for sure. And like any man, I wasn't going to say no. There was one night at the Kitten Club where they were having what you might call a roman toga party. Or at least the girls were. There we go. Did you see that? I called them girls. Well, that night all the kittens certainly looked like girls. Anyway, the costume was a very short, lightweight white dress, off the shoulder, with a thin golden thread belt and golden high heel open sandals. Charlotte looked as if she had been wearing such clothes her whole life. One of the customers touched her chest. Charlotte giggled like a schoolgirl and pulled back but the man persisted in touching Charlotte's chest, which didn't exactly displease her. Yes, I know. I'm calling Charlie by the name of Charlotte, and I'm referring to him by the feminine pronoun. It seemed appropriate. Colette came over to speak to me. "Frankie," she said, "Can you do me a favour. Do you mind?" "Almost certainly not. I'll do a favour for my friend. What is it?" "Well, you see honey, it's like this. As you can see, Charlotte has actually outgrown her role as barman now. We only keep her behind the bar because we haven't got anyone else to take over. We've got somebody coming for the job tomorrow, but I wonder if you'd mind, I know it's a big thing to ask, but I wonder if you'd mind being our barman tonight? It's really easy. All you have to do is open bottles of beer for the customers. Take the money. Keep your tips. We'd pay you as well, obviously." "Watch my lips, Colette. I'm not a kitten. I never will be." "Oh of course honey. That goes without saying. I was just having a bit of fun with you the other night. But it would allow Charlotte to wait on tables all the time, and she really wants to do it. She should be doing it by now, but we just haven't been able to find a barman. If you could do it tonight, you'll be doing her a massive favour. And me. You wouldn't have to wear anything. Not if you didn't want to. You can wear the clothes you've got on, if you want. I mean, if you did want to wear something, we could find it." "I keep telling you. It's ridiculous. Do I look like a kitten?" "I won't answer that. But you're right. You'd just be a regular barman. Will you do it? It's good fun. And you'll get loads of money." I shrugged. That was all it took. If I hadn't been prepared to do it, all I had to do was say. And I didn't. Ten minutes later I was behind the bar. Needless to say, I turned down her offer to "find something for me to wear". I was wearing my normal clothes, although she did insist on putting a clip on the back of my T-shirt to make it tighter. She said it would double my tips. I was just to ignore any comments from customers. They didn't mean the things they said. Just to keep up appearances, everyone would call me Frankie rather than Frank, but that didn't mean anything. Plenty of red-blooded heterosexual males who'd been christened Francis called themselves Frankie. Colette gave me a stiff drink to settle my nerves and before I knew it I was behind the bar of the Kitten Club. Joanne didn't need to know about this. It was ridiculously easy. Mostly the kittens would come up and order the drinks to take to the tables. Charlotte was loving her new job. She'd come back to the bar with her knickers stuffed full of money, where the customers had put her tips, while having a good feel and pinch at the same time. She came behind the bar and showed me and the kittens her panty-enclosed bum, which was all red. She didn't seem to mind. The man who had fucked her that first night was there again. Whenever I turned round, he was looking at me. He had asked me my name and I'd said, as per my instructions, that it was Frankie. He introduced himself as Rod. No man had ever looked at me in the way Rod was looking at me and it made me feel very nervous. It was as if I was just an object for him to look at. When I turned around I could feel his eyes on my bum and when I faced him he looked me up and down as if all he had to was jump over the bar and take possession of me. I tried to give him his change but he just held on to my hand, stroking it, and said I could keep it. When I pulled back, he laughed. It was a strange experience. One that women, and indeed the kittens, go through every day of their lives. I wanted to tell him that I was different to the rest. I wasn't a kitten, and unlike, say Charlotte, I had absolutely no intention of becoming one. I felt like saying that I had a girlfriend at home and we had a perfectly normal relationship. Very healthy sex life. But I couldn't do that. It would have shattered the illusion of the Kitten Club. And even though I was only working there for the one night, I didn't want to do that. It wouldn't have been fair. I asked Colette about this Rod bloke. She explained that he was one of the club's resident studs. He had taken this drug himself, just to see what happened, and there had been no change him at all. If anything, he had become more male. "I'm afraid we're almost all notches on Rod's belt, Frankie. All the girls. He's likes them fresh. He told me I was like a nice ripe cherry on the tree, and he was going to pluck me off and have me. Which he did. Out of all the kittens we've ever had, I'd say he's had about ninety per cent of us. Many of those, he's broken in himself. But when he's had you, he moves on. He's like that. He gets off on turning you out. What do you think? Do you fancy him?" I was really annoyed at that. Furious. I was doing this as a favour, I told her, and I didn't need her saying things like that. I walked back to my post behind the bar. Did I fancy a man? What a question to ask a man like me. I don't know why it was, but I kept on looking at Rod, and he kept looking at me. I found myself up his end of the bar much more than perhaps I should have done. I didn't talk to him, I didn't want to. But I couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to be the latest notch on Rod's belt. I forced that thought from my mind. It was disgusting. Over the next few weeks working behind the bar of the Kitten Club became a regular thing. I don't quite know how it happened. Perhaps it was the fact that Joanne hadn't been at home much lately. Perhaps it was that I did like going to the Kitten Club. Their new barman never did turn up, so I was the only option. Perhaps it was the extra money I was generating in tips. Obviously, I didn't get as much as the likes of Charlotte and Colette. All they had to do was look at a man and he would start sticking twenty pound notes in their clothing. I wouldn't want that. One thing you want to know about: these pills had absolutely no effect on me. There. Perhaps you were expecting the opposite. I know Joanne was, in a weird sort of way. What sort of girl would want her boyfriend to turn female? One thing I've learned is never to try and understand what women do. Let them get on with it. And yes, when I wrote, just above, it was pills in the plural rather than the singular, it was deliberate. Joanne had make me take three or four. Nothing. As far as I was concerned, that proved it. I was man, all man, and nothing bad man. How disappointed they were. One night I arrived for work and Colette invited me into one of the back rooms, a sort of dressing room for the kittens. She asked my how I liked it at the club, and I said I didn't mind it at all, which was the truth. Getting paid, and paid well, for standing in a bar was my idea of a good job. "And you don't mind the... attention?" she said. I said I could handle it. "How do you think the customers view you?" I knew what she was getting at. I started to explain that as a straight man, I was probably something of a fantasy for them. I'd also been called a pretty boy in the past. By girls. I wasn't so stupid to think that the men who came into the club accepted me as a heterosexual male, but I was playing a game, and it was a lucrative one as well. Even though there was not the slightest possibility that I've ever "do" anything with them, they would like to think that I would, and that turned them on. She nodded but I could see she thought I was just blabbing. There was something on her mind. I asked what it was. "Don't you think you look a bit..." She cast a disapproving look at my clothes. I was wearing the same stuff I always wore to the club now. Tight jeans and T-shirt. Trainers. "A bit what?" I said. "A bit... male?" I asked her what she meant and explained that I had this little theory that if I dressed in that way, male, but every so slightly androgynous, it would work. I'd get tips. They'd think they had a chance with me, even if they didn't. Colette wasn't listening again. "Why don't you try these?" she said. She held up a pair of cycling shorts. Well, not proper black cycling shorts with a padded bum and all that, but white lycra shorts that were tight, tight, tight in all places. As if happened, I'm quite a keen cyclist and wearing cycling shorts is something that I've always done. So I was less reluctant than I might have been. I put them on. Much to her disappointment, I didn't come over all girly. I was just wearing cycling shorts. I still had my white T-shirt on. "You have actually got the most perfect abs," she said. Now that did please me. I had worked long and hard on my abdomen muscles. Not that I had a six-pack. I didn't work them in that way. The exercises I did strengthened my inner core and gave me great shape around my tummy. Joanne loved it. I was about to tell Colette about all that but she interrupted me. "Let's put them on show. Try this on." She handed me another white garment. "It's a bra," I said. "It is not a bra," she insisted. "It's a sports top." "It's a bra," I said. "Okay, it's a sports bra, but it" still a bra. Joanne wears them." "It's just a top. It just shows off your abs. Just try it on. For me," she said. "Look," I said. "I know what you are doing. It's fine, it really is. I know you don't believe me, but I'm genuinely not gay. There is nothing waiting to be woken up inside me. I'm straight. And I don't want to be a kitten. And I'm not going to become one. I've taken the bloody pills, and I'm still a man. Always will be." "But you like it here," she said. "I don't mind it," I replied. "But I'm not wearing a bra. For one thing, I haven't got boobs. Look." I held up my T-shirt to show my nipples. I knew that was a mistake as soon as I'd done it. Joanne had... ahem... got a taste for my nipples over the past few weeks and they were red and bit puffy. Not to say itchy. I'd rubbed cream in them to ease the discomfort, but it was plain for all to see that these weren't the placid and ignored nipples you see on your average man. "My God, what have you been up to?" she said, inspecting my chest. I tried to explain but the argument was already lost. Within a couple of minutes, I was pulling the thing over my head and putting it in place. I suppose I could have made out it was a crop top, although I don't know many men who wear them. It covered most of my chest and finished at about my sternum, leaving my tummy bare, and my shoulders as well. It was just as well I was quite fit. It would have looked terrible with a flabby stomach sticking out, or saggy arm muscles. When I say I wore trainers to the club, I did, but they weren't the usual dirty pair of trainers you'd wear to the gym. They were new (bought with my tips) and a very bright white. So there I was, in my new outfit. White cycling shorts, a sports top and white trainers and socks. The men in the club would love it, especially Rod, who seemed to spend most of his time staring at me. The white outfit would be picked out by the club's lights, just like all the kittens. Colette flicked my hair out of my face and even wanted to put a clip in it, but I drew the line at that. In fact, I was long overdue for a haircut and I promised myself I'd go the barber the next day. "Can I ask you a question?" I said to Colette. "Have you... you know..." "What?" "Have you..." "Spit it out, doll." "Have you had it chopped off?" She laughed. "You seem particularly fascinated with that, Frankie. You never talk about anything else. Are you thinking you'd like to have that done? You should do. It's the most wonderful thing in the world, Frankie. To answer your question: yes. I've had myself castrated." I gasped. "Didn't you notice? I was off for a week." I said that they told me she'd had a cold. I realised how naive I'd been. Why Charlotte and the others had been smiling when they told me about Colette's "cold". "It can be done so quickly?" I said. "You were only away a few days." "It's a lot easier these days. A minor operation." "God!" I said. "What's it like? I mean, how does it feel?" She thought about it before answering. "It's so much more... free. When you've got something down there you don't want and suddenly it's gone, it's like having a rotten tooth taken out. I just want to touch it all the time. Prove to myself that it's gone. "And having sex as a woman is about... a hundred times better than as a male. The bloke has to do all the work. Imagine that? All you have to do is lie there and let things be done to you. If it's no good, it's his fault, he's the one who's got to perform. It's his job to please you. And when you have an orgasm... my God! It's not all quick, like it is when you are a bloke. It goes on for ages! You almost pass out with joy. And then, if he's good, he keeps going, and you have one after another. There's no waiting to recharge the batteries, like with blokes. You haven't lived until you've had a multiple orgasm, Frankie. You should try it." "Yeah well," I said, "I don't ever intend finding out." "Don't knock it if you haven't experienced it," she said. Rod didn't wait to show his appreciation of my new wardrobe when I went out onto the floor. There was something about him that said all this was inevitable, and he had known about it all along. "I think I'm about to come," he said as looked me up and down. I ignored him and got on with my work. A few minutes later, I saw Charlotte come out of the back room, followed by one of the customers. It was obvious what they had been doing. "How about you and me go in there?" said Rod. "In your dreams," I said. I was surprised I had used that phrase. It wasn't the sort of thing I would normally say to a man. I suppose it was almost flirtatious. I didn't want to flirt with a man. He took my comment as a come-on. "Yes, in my dreams," he said. "And before long, in my reality too. And yours, Frankie." I smiled in a way that a barman, well not a barman, but a barmaid, would smile at a customer who was getting a bit fresh. A little purse of the lips, a flash of the eye. "You know what I'm going to do to you, Frankie?" he said, carrying on before I had the chance to answer. "I'm going to teach you to come." "Is that right?" "Indeed it is. I don't mean come like a man comes. Like a boy comes. All cock. I'm going to teach to come like a woman comes. When I'm fucking you, Frankie, you'll feel you're going to explode with pleasure. You'll probably pass out because it's so good. I'll take my time. It's better, they tell me, from the female side. Well, they would, wouldn't they? This lot in here, they start as little boys who are not quite sure what they are, but once they've been with me, they realise they are not quite the man they thought they were. And that's what's going to happen to you, Frankie. Once they've been with a man, a real man, you'll realise you're not one. I'm going to awaken the woman in you. Once you've come like a woman, Frankie, once you've had that female orgasm, you'll realise what I'm talking about. And then things won't quite be the same. You'll never look at another woman quite the same again. And you'll certainly never look at a man the same way. You'll be thinking if he is "the one". Can he make me come in the same way that Rod did? That's what you'll be thinking. In all modesty, I wonder if he could. The first time is the best, Frankie. Come on, let's you and me go in that room. You won't regret it. And you know it." "No thanks," I said. "And do you know what, Frankie? When the two of us do get together, it's going to be all your idea. You'll be begging for it. You know that's true, don't you?" He kept it up for quite a while. I have to admit, I did wonder what it would be like. To have a man's penis in my mouth. To lick it. And then for him to put it... God! What I am I thinking! I walked away from Rod and served at the other end of the bar. But that didn't stop him, of course. Underneath it all, he actually seemed quite a nice bloke, and later he apologised if he had offended me, and offered a tip. I put out my hand to take it, but he drew it back. "As a celebration of your new way of dressing," he said. He slipped the twenty pound note in my top, making sure, of course he rubbed his fingers against my nipple as he did so. He then slipped another one on the other side. My chest now had two little bumps in it, which Colette certainly noticed. But I soon took the money out and flattened down the top. God knows what Joanne would do if she could see me now. Dressed up as a gay man's wet dream. Not even that. Gay men had their own fantasies. I was the wet dream of a certain kind of man. The type who liked femme boys. People like Rod, who liked boys who were not quite boys anymore. But Joanne could hardly complain. For one, it was her who brought me here, and two, where was she now? Working. Again. One side of me didn't like what I was doing. That side of me wanted to take the top off, and the shorts, and put proper clothes on again. A suit and tie. Brogues. Obviously, I was going to change into my own man clothes to go home. But that was only one side of me. There was another side. It's really difficult to admit and I hated this about myself. But I noticed the way the straps felt on my shoulders, and the way it came around my back. I didn't want to admit it to myself. It felt good but it wasn't just that. There was no point in me saying I was wearing a pair of cycling shorts and a top. I was in denial. The truth was I in a pair of shorty-shorts and a bra. Not a frilly bra, with flowers and lace but a bra nevertheless. It didn't just feel good. It felt great But it was more than that. It hate to say it but it the phrase I am looking for is that it felt... right. That these were the clothes that I should be wearing. And that's what worried me most of all.