Side Effects Ch.1 free porn video

Side Effects What would become of the world if sexual freedom were to be taken away with the excuse of safeguarding the human population? What would happen if homosexuality was being outlawed? Were these measures really for the good of the human race? Will the discriminated retaliate? And the biggest question of all - will there be any side effects? Note: I was so inspired by Red Janissary's work that I've decided to write this piece. Consider this a fan fiction as no work could ever replace Mr. Janissary's bodysuiting greatness. My humble effort are truly undeserving of his masterpieces. Even so, I do hope you'll still be able to enjoy the story. Feedbacks and criticisms are most welcomed. Warning: This story contains TG, masturbation and identity theft. The Good Wife Bob Donovan drove his fancy Mercedes into the beautiful suburban neighborhood he and his wife had settled in for almost a year. It was exactly the kind of community the successful Wall Street broker had been dreaming of residing ever since he was a kid. Away from the hustle of New York City, the residential area checked all the boxes he and Courtney had set when the newly-wed couple was looking for a place to accommodate Bob's propelling career. Firstly, it was not too far away from where Bob was working. Just like his lovely wife, Bob loved the serenity of the place despite its proximity to one of the busiest metropolitan in the world. As he waved to one of his neighbors across the street before steering his convertible into the front porch of his rebuilt double-story colonial home, Bob was reminded of what he liked about this suburb - everyone was just so friendly and kind to one another. None of the residents felt insecure as they knew they could be trusted to lend a helping hand whenever the need arose. It was exactly the sort of environment he and Courtney would want for their children to grow up in. In the upscale-but-secluded community, words got out real fast. It certainly didn't take much for the majority to find out that Courtney had been pregnant with her first child. Bob however, didn't mind. Neither did his wife. The young couple was more than happy to share the news with the neighbors as they were showered with felicitations and good wishes. The 32 year-old stock market analyst pulled up by the side of his perfectly manicured lawn before reaching over to the passenger seat for his briefcase. He stepped out of his Mercedes being greeted by Gwen Morrison - the lovely next-door neighbor - who was just returning from her routine evening run with the earpieces of her iPhone still fully intact. Mrs. Morrison was a widow to a multi-billion software company founder who had passed away in a car accident 3 years ago. Just like how they knew about Courtney's pregnancy, everyone in the suburb knew about how Mrs. Morrison and her teenage daughter were living comfortably with the money left behind by her late husband. The two neighbors had a friendly chat, with Gwen finally taking off her earphones, before they each separated into their own luxurious homes. Bob did stop to pick up this morning's paper from the doorstep before stepping inside. Slightly shaking his head, Bob thought about how Courtney must have forgotten to bring in the newspapers again. Well, the housewife couldn't really be blamed. With the advent of the Internet and social media these days, only conservatives like Bob would be clinging on to the habit of reading it from the good old fashioned newspapers. Leaving his briefcase and coat on the hanger near the entrance, Bob loosened the knot of his Armani-tie before unfolding and reading the headlines for the day while walking towards the aroma coming from the kitchen. 'GOVERNMENT STEPPING UP EFFORT IN CRACKDOWN OF HOMOSEXUALITY' was the front page's headline. The photo of a scary-looking skinny gentleman underneath a separated headline 'BURNT BODY'S IDENTITY CONFIRMED' followed by the name 'Frank Xavier' accompanied the story. 'GOD'S NEMESIS' was the related news on the second page. Bob shook his head again, this time with a wry smile. Upon entering the lavishly designed large kitchen, Bob lifted his eyes from the fine print to find that Courtney was absent. The aroma came from some of the half-consumed Chinese takeouts on the custom built Island top. No home cooking for today... again, Bob thought. There were even dirty dishes from last night and earlier in the day still unattended in the dishwasher. He could relate though, as his beautiful wife had been busy with something else recently. Leaving the papers on one of the designer counter tops, Bob took off up the stairs to greet his wife he knew would be keeping herself busy in their newly set-up baby's room. He was right as he walked through the partially opened door to find Courtney among the baby cot, hanging musical mobile of cartoonish butterflies, and wallpapers full of fairies and unicorns. Standing by the room's window, Bob saw a strikingly attractive woman who he had walked down the aisle with exactly 14 months ago. ***** Stalking Gregory Welton was starting to feel the effects of staying up for three nights straight without any proper sleep. Even though he was only 33, he could do with a bit more rest. Instead, he had been sitting in a stolen black van for the past couple of weeks. It was actually so much worse than what he had seen in the movies where the cops were always relying on paper cups of coffee while keeping watch of the bad guys. The nearest place for him to grab a cup was miles away from this upscale but rather isolated community. With everyone seemed to know each other so well in this particular suburban neighborhood, his mysterious black van was gradually attracting attention - more so than he was comfortable with. He had to move it around quite a bit and for the past couple of days; his heavily tinted vehicle was being stationed across the street from the Donovans. It was a location he had decided would be the closest he could get to his targets without triggering any alarm. If the neighborhood watch volunteers were to get any closer, he would have to find his black van a new hiding place. It was tiring indeed. Apart from avoiding the chances of being discovered, Greg had to note down every single activities made by his subjects. He couldn't rely on others to do the deed for him. Greg was too meticulous for that. He was not going to just lay back and wait for orders. Everything had to be perfect, especially when he was about to take over someone else's life. The stalker wrote down on a notepad: 'Conversation with neighbor at 1812H before heading into the house' . Then, he played back the tape of the conversation he had just recorded from a bug planted on his prey weeks ago. As he was listening, he practiced on the speech and pronunciations while trying to memorize what they were sharing with each other. His endeavor did not seem to disrupt the snoring of his fellow stalker who appeared to be soundly asleep on the passenger seat beside. That unladylike habit of 21 year-old Nathan Jacobs had to go, especially since he had been chosen to replace the other half of the delicious pie. He and Nathan were only a handful of homosexuals who had managed to escape the government's grasp. In spite of their freedom, they couldn't live their lives to the fullest. They didn't want to pretend like some of their kind did by faking their love for the opposite gender. That was the main reason why they were stalking their prey, their targets - so that they could steal their identities and stop running. However, Greg knew their ultimate goal was bigger and greater than that. The soft beeping on his digital watch indicated that it was time for Nathan to wake up. It was about time really, as his low-octave snoring was killing him. "Nat, Nat... Wake up... It's time for your watch...," Greg called out, lightly slapping his 'partner' on his face. "Noooo... Really...? So soon..?" Nathan's reluctant tone sounded more like a grunt than a sentence. That deep, manly voice still troubled Greg. Despite his snoring and his voice, Nathan was actually more suited to replace his target than Greg. A small, petite frame and naturally smooth skin with very little body hair were some of the features which had a lot of queer men and even women envious. ***** Hidden At 27, Courtney Donovan projected the image of youthful beauty with a touch of elegance. Her long straight raven black hair was brushed to the right, leaving the perfect features on her face in full view. Her mesmerizing deep blue eyes and the high, thin nose standing between her elevated cheek bones as well as the luscious pair of lips reminded Bob the reason his mind was made up the first time he laid eyes on the former Kindergarten teacher. She was just the perfect candidate. The body-hugging white turtle-neck and knee-length gray wool skirt complimented her body exceptionally. Despite being tastefully dressed, Bob knew all too well that hidden underneath was a pair of gravity- defying size C breasts, the taut tummy contributing to the tiny waistline and the flared-out hips which gave her the womanly curves that every straight man would drool over. It was still too early for any signs of her pregnancy to distort her perfect figure. Her supermodel- like long, smooth legs was positioned gracefully in a way that her left was bent at the knee slightly as most of her 5ft 8-inch, 120 pounds frame supported by her equally well-toned right leg. As Bob walked into their baby room, he found that his lovely wife wasn't doing anything related to their upcoming newborn. Instead, she was holding a technologically advanced binocular in her svelte right hand while maintaining a listening device against her ear with her left. The intense expression on her pretty face indicated her concentration as she was eavesdropping on Mrs. Morrison's conversation with her daughter, Hannah. She didn't even pick up the presence of her husband until he wrapped his strong arms around her appealing figure from the back, resting his hands on her perfect midriff and tight navel. "Anything new?" Bob asked before planting kisses on the wife's neck. "Oh... Hi baby..." Courtney greeted, slightly startled before drastically changing to a cold, emotionless tone. "Nah... Pretty much the same routine you'd expect out of any rich bitches these days..." the wife said in an uncharacteristic manner. Courtney laid down her binoculars and listening device on the top of a supposedly sky blue baby dresser to turn around and face her husband. "How's your day honey?" she asked, reassuming her sweet loving demeanor as she rested her slender arms on her husband's shoulders. Bob leaned forward to kiss his wife on the lips. He had never failed to do that every single day since that fateful event. Courtney responded by sliding her tongue into his mouth, initiating one long wet and passionate kiss. Even without looking, Bob knew that his gorgeous wife would have one of her legs lifted behind her as she roamed his oral cavity with her tongue. The two lovers swapped saliva as if it was some sort of delicacy while their hands were molesting each other's body. With his grip firmly on her shapely derri?re, Bob pulled Courtney's slender form against his. By doing so, he could feel something poking at his groin. "Hmmm... Were you fooling around with yourself again?" the husband asked, briefly pulling away from Courtney's delicious lips. "Oh honey... You know how lonely I can get sometimes... And, oh... all the pretty clothes I now own..." the young wife said. "That was why you have Greg and Nathan on the watch out there? So that you could have more time away from watching our next targets in order to explore your... stolen assets? Do you know that you're risking the whole op..." Bob's stern tone was abruptly interrupted by a delicate finger Courtney placed on his lips. His growing annoyance with his lover's casual attitude was swiftly dampened by the act of her other hand caressing his manhood through his long suited pants. "Relax honey... You know how it is with Greg... He doesn't trust anyone but himself. That was why he insisted on getting involved with the stalking phase of our current operation," Courtney explained even though she had done so on a few occasions previously. It was more of a reminder than an explanation. Bob realized that. But still, he couldn't help but feel threatened by the presence of the two undisguised stalkers being in such close proximity to the targets - the Morrisons. It was against the organization's protocols. More importantly, it was simply too risky. As if his wife could read his mind, Bob's unease was immediately treated by Courtney's other skillful hand which roamed all the way to his backside - squeezing his well-toned flesh before poking along the ass- crack at exactly the right place. A slight moan escaped unintentionally from Bob's mouth. His weakness was laid bare by his understanding wife as it was just the trigger Bob needed to sweep Courtney out of her feet before carrying her in both his arms to their love nest. Nosy Neighbors 45 year-old Maggie Chaplin had always been the most informative member of the upscale suburban neighborhood. She would always consider herself caring enough to know what's going on in and around her, especially things concerning her neighbors. The still-single real estate agent had all the first rate gossip about the Morrisons whose property was located right across the suburban road from her not-too-shabby two-car garage double-story colonial home. Maggie was also quite interested with the Donovans as she regularly peeked through her blinds whenever the sound of Mr. Donovan's Mercedes roared from the driveway just a stone throw away from her exquisitely manicured front lawn. It was her who first passed on the news about Mrs. Donovan's very early pregnancy to her vast network of fellow nosy neighbors. Like an experience detective, a brief conversation was all that was required for her to notice all the signs before finally forcing the lovely young wife to spill the beans. Nevertheless, she was also well aware of the changes in attitude of Mrs. Donovan towards her. The stockbroker's beautiful young wife had normally been cold to her presence, probably due to her escalated sense of curiosity. Recently though, Maggie was glad that the neighbor seemed to have accepted her for who she was. 'Oh, how pregnancy can change a person,' she thought. The Smiths, who owned a similarly large property to her left, was an ordinary bunch - much to her disappointment. Having an almost photographic memory, Maggie recalled that the family of five next door was so normal that she didn't place too much of her 'radar' on them. However uninteresting as they were, at least the typical American family didn't make an enemy out of her as much as the 67 year-old Mr. Herbert. The retired surgeon was staying at the end of the street next to the Smiths. Being a quiet man, Mr. Herbert had practically shut himself in from the rest of the neighborhood. It was the exact personality trait which Maggie hated the most. 'Information is power'. That was what made her such a good real estate agent. She was the kind who felt insecure whenever she was in the dark of something. And that was precisely how she felt about the mysterious black van parked on the street near her mailbox a couple of days ago. Its windows were tinted in such a way that she couldn't see anything or anyone possibly in the California-licensed vehicle. Maggie had even gone as far as checking the license plate with the state's registry but found nothing amiss. The details of the owner were confidential to the public but at the very least it was not reported as stolen. Her second attempt to get close to the van made it steer away from its stationary state. And now, it had returned - parked just outside Mr. Herbert's property. That was where she drew the line of her 'investigation'. Stepping anywhere near the old man's garden was never a good idea, especially after the recent argument they just had. With a heavy heart and a sigh, Maggie backed away from her blinds as there was nothing much she could do about the suspicious vehicle except contemplating on calling the cops. But what was the crime? The 'ding' from the timer of her oven followed by the wonderful aroma of her baking broke her train of thoughts. Maggie ambled across the spacious living hall towards the kitchen, passing a large decorative piece of mirror on the way. Her busty figure was beginning to show its age. But anyone could tell that she was still a beautiful woman with curly red hair done just shy of her shoulder. Dark brown eyes, cute button nose and full lips featured well on her rounded face which was affected slightly by her double chin as they stood on top of a buxom form. Maggie had always been proud of her 40DD sized racks as well as her wide and Kardashian-like rump. Her waist though, had not been as slender as it used to be no thanks to her lack of exercise. Besides, she embraced her hobby (apart from poking her nose around in others people business) of cooking, baking and of course, eating. The smell of the chocolate muffins as she retrieved them from the oven was enough to make her forget all about the mysterious black van - at least for the time being. What could be the worst thing that could happen to this peaceful neighborhood, right? Haven From the doorway of the vast master bedroom to the posh King-size bed, clothes were littered on the floor in a sequence which was apparent of the burning passion developing between Mr. and Mrs. Donovan. Courtney's purple lacy thong and a matching brassiere lay closest to the bed as erotic moans and groans filled the largely under lit room. "Oh fuck... Yeah...!" Courtney grunted as she was riding on top of her handsome husband, grinding her bottom against his groin. Both of her delicate hands were groping at her own gravity-defying tits as she bounced up and down like she was in the rodeo on dear Bob's massive member. Sweat was dripping despite the well air-conditioned room. Lying there underneath his rather energetic wife, Bob couldn't help but admire the perfection of the woman riding on his 8-inch manhood. Yes, her hair might have been slightly disheveled compared to earlier when they were still in their baby room. But still, she was demonstrating the beauty of Courtney R. Donovan in her full naked glory. Her nipples were swollen as they were forcefully squeezed and kneaded by their owner. Her flawless creamy white skin. Her taut tummy. And oh those long sexy legs looking even longer in that squatting position. Those were some of the excellent qualities which were making him the envy of most men. However, very few knew the most important element which made the husband fell head over heels for Courtney, this particular 'Courtney'. It was the 7-inch throbbing erection emerging from between the lips of her artificial vagina as she let Bob's cock slid in and out of her adequately lubricated anus. It was also the only reminder that the actual identity underneath the impeccably crafted bodysuit was his long time secret lover and wanted fugitive - Frank Xavier. Even with a bounty worth millions on his head, Frank was living out his dream as a gorgeous 27 year-old brunette. The stolen identity was almost half a decade younger than his true age but thanks to the wonders of a top-secret military disguise advancement, it was all possible. Of course, their organization wouldn't have thrived without the help of an unidentified senator within the government who initiated the research of such an espionage technology. It was the senator along with a few other prominent figures from the previous generation, a more liberal generation, who secretly set up the organization. It was an organization with no name as it didn't need one to provide shelter and a route of escape for the condemned group who fought for sexual freedom. Ever since the rise of the religious and conservative leaders decades ago, the age of liberalism had ended. Any forms of same sex coupling had been outlawed and those who were defiant were handed down harsh punishment including life imprisonment. Considering how vocal he was fighting for 'his kind', Frank was fortunate enough to be taken under the wings of the organization. Donning the identity of a young woman, the former New York hairstylist felt safe underneath Courtney's life- like bodysuit. Frank didn't have to run anymore but more importantly, he was reunited with the man he loved. The benefit of being able to live out his wildest fantasy as a pretty woman was a welcomed bonus. As a closet crossdresser when he was a teenager, Frank almost fainted when he was finally allowed unlimited access to the real Courtney's extravagant wardrobe. Seeing the glint in Frank's eyes, Bob knew he had made the right call - just like the excellent stockbroker that he had always been. Back when Bob chose Courtney Reid to be Frank Xavier's new identity, the closet homosexual practiced discretion. Courting his wealthy client's spoiled daughter and eventually marrying her was only a camouflage for his true desire. He had to put up with Ms. Reid's childish temperament and the countless times of viagra-assisted sex just so that he would be able to accumulate sufficient information for his true love. Once he had everything that was required, Frank along with a team of experts from the organization were brought into the Donovan's home when the real Courtney was out on her usual shopping spree. As the current 'Courtney' unloaded shots after shots of cum which landed all the way to the husband's chest, her high-pitched screams sounded exactly like the ones Bob had remembered from that fateful day. Admiring his wife who still had his cock in her ass in a Cowgirl position, Bob was amazed with the bodysuit's ability to allow its users to alter their voices at will. The sweat trickling down its very convincing skin was actually that of Frank's as it permeated through the microscopic pores making it appeared as if the fake Courtney-skin was sweating. The image of his wife's dainty fingers squeezing out the last few drops of jizz from her Frank-cock, the strongest reminder that the person underneath was actually Frank, brought Bob over the edge as his body jerked and released massive amounts of cum into the make-believe Courtney's perfect bottom. When 'Courtney' finally collapsed on top of him, Bob wrapped his muscular arms around his wife's impersonator before treating themselves to another make-out session. It brought him back to that particular day not too long ago when the real Courtney returned home with bags of expensive heels and designer dresses to find a skinny and naked Frank Xavier lying on the bed she had shared with her husband. ***** Frank could still recall the scream of horror from the wife before she was effectively sedated by Bob with a needle to her neck. He was in love with the former Bob but due to the world government's strong opposition against any form of same sex coupling or marriage, they had to keep the relationship under wraps until Frank was exposed by his disgruntled ex-boyfriend. Ever since then, Frank refused to lay low as he openly criticized the government through social media and online news portal, making him along with thousands of others constantly being hunted down by the authorities. The world government's propaganda overcame his, resulting in him and his shrinking number of supporters being painted as freaks of nature. Frank had initially felt betrayed with Bob's silence, though he had later discovered his true reasons for keeping a low profile. Out of his love, Frank was glad that he didn't blow Bob's cover as he was later quietly brought into the 'organization' - the underground supporters of sexual freedom which he didn't know existed. Headed by former CIA and KGB members, its way of operation was ruthless. Frank had no other choice but to accept the cruelty the organization inflicted on others in order for their own survival. Courtney was unfortunate to be handpicked by Bob and the organization. Frank had initially felt sorry for the young lady, but the thoughts of having the opportunity to live his life as a beautiful woman overcame his sympathy. Furthermore, the girl's father was an influential businessman, pulling a lot of clout among the Senate. Installing Frank as the new Courtney not only provided a safe haven for the closet crossdresser but also as an important part of the organization's grander scheme of returning the society to the ways it had always been. And so, there he was, staring at the incapacitated body of someone he was about to replace while feeling the softness of the bed's silky smooth sheets against his own skin. As the sinister grin on his face grew wider, his erection became more prominent underneath the imported satin sheet covering the lower half of his unsightly body. Frank continued to observe as Bob, with his muscles, lifted the heavily sedated wife on to the bed right next to her prospective impostor. "Oh... She is just so lovely, isn't she," said Frank, turning to face the sleeping beauty beside before pulling Bob by his collar towards him as they kissed passionately. Frank broke off the kiss shortly after as he looked into Bob's deep blue eyes before adding, "Considering the way she has been treating you, I don't feel sorry for her anymore..." "Sorry or not my dear, please remember that sacrifices will be required for our dreams, the organization's dreams to be fulfilled. Plus, I've always thought that you'll make a much better Courtney Donovan," Bob said before kissing the skinny, bald man on the forehead. He then left his lover on the bed to make a phone call while Frank continued to admire Courtney's perfect form by his side. Stroking his manhood underneath the blanket, Frank couldn't stop grinning at the tasteful attire Courtney was still wearing. The yellow knee-length flared-out dress with a ruby red thick belt around her slender waist would soon be his. So was the pair of yellow 4-inch pumps which Bob didn't bother to remove. Frank recalled the hours he had spent practice walking on those during his 'training' days with the organization and also the times he would secretly wobbled in a pair of his mom's when he was a teenager. He couldn't wait to strut in the dozens more high heels Courtney seemed to have owned. The wait was further shortened with the sound of a heavy vehicle coming to a halt at the front yard. The experts had arrived with their state- of-the-art espionage equipment, under the guise of a professional cleaning agency. Frank's heart fluttered to the multiple sets of footsteps ascending up the stairs of the soon-to-be his property. Bob led the team of 'cleaners' into the master bedroom as Frank greeted them from underneath the sheets. He knew most of the members in the team from during the 6 months he had spent in the organization's secret headquarters. They were all former military scientists who used to work for either the KGB or the CIA but decided to abandon their respective governments due to the conflicting ideologies. In other words, these people were just like Bob and Frank - they embraced the sexual freedom which had been robbed by the current conservatism. Almost immediately, they went down to work by laying out all the tools and devices. Frank and Courtney's physical measurements were given a final gauge to take into consideration any recent changes. One of the requirements for the disguise to work was that the impersonators had to be in roughly the same shape as the person they were about to replace. It was definitely a limitation but Frank had seen the result and he was definitely impressed. Furthermore, the openly gay queer was skinny to begin with. A couple of the organization's personals proceeded to undress the sleeping Courtney right beside Frank. The soon-to-be new Mrs. Donovan propped his bald head up as he turned to observe the stripping process. The jewelries were the first to be removed as Frank eyes glittered at the sight of Courtney's diamond wedding ring. He would want Bob to put that on his new finger for him at the completion of the transformation. The elegant dress was the next to be taken followed swiftly by the helpless wife's nude pantyhose and underwear. Frank's manhood stirred at the sight of the contrasting yellow embroideries and laces on Courtney's white brassiere and her matching thong. It looked so fetching and sexy on her. It would soon appear equally as good on him after his metamorphosis. 'Looks like my crossdressing dreams are gonna come true after all,' thought Frank. In no time, the government's fugitive found himself sealed in a bodysuit produced by a device which was attached to a laptop where his and Courtney's measurements were being recorded. At that moment, he was already having the curves of a slender woman but somehow appeared unconvincing and nowhere near the looks of Courtney Donovan. Drugs were then infused through an intravenous line set up earlier, penetrating through the bodysuit's thin membrane into Frank's body. This was to put him to sleep as the upcoming phase would cause a lot of pain. "Are you ready, Mr. Xavier?" asked one of the organization's personals who Frank found had the same first name as him. "Oh yes... And Frank, please call me Mrs. Donovan already..." the bodysuited subject replied with a lot of persuasion trying to cheer up the stern-looking former military tough guy. "You're lucky you get to be put to sleep during the whole process. Our first ever volunteer wasn't as fortunate though," the 'military' Frank said obviously talking about the suffering bestowed upon a senator's former male advisor during the transformation phase before taking over as the senator's wife. As the drugs flowed into his blood stream, Frank felt less and less of his surroundings. All he could recall was that wonderful dream. A dream where he was holding a baby as a beautiful mother and Bob gave her a kiss at a large garden by the pool. The next thing he knew was waking up on the same comfortable bed, wearing Courtney's pink negligee. The organization's team was already gone by the time he got up from his new bed as he looked around in search for the nearest mirror - anxious to check out his appearance. The first difference he noticed was the new sense of balance. He could feel the weight of Courtney's raven black hair - the same gorgeous hair which was painstakingly plucked strand by strand from the real Courtney and implanted into the bodysuit's scalp. Some of them wiggle in front of his eyes, prompting him to gracefully swept them to the back of his right ear. That's when he came to see the image reflected from the large full length mirror resided within the sizeable walk-in closet. It was more than anything he could hope for. Even though he had seen it many times before and knew fairly well how convincing the disguise technology could be, it was still surreal for him to see the reflection of the scantily covered Courtney Donovan mimicking his every move. His or rather, 'her' first reaction was to touch 'her' face - 'her' beautiful new female face with 'her' fingers. It was soft and firm at the same time but most importantly, 'she' could FEEL it being touched. Of course she could, it was 'her' face now. And what about those fingers - perfectly manicured nails at the top of those slender digits covered by silky smooth skin. 'She' proceeded to examine 'her' pair of hands. They were both svelte and feminine - exactly like the ones of the real Courtney. Even the tiny mole on the back of the wife's left hand was there. As she moved her arms, the material of Courtney's negligee brushed against her new nipples, sending pleasant shockwave throughout her slender body. The new Courtney stared at the mammaries on her reflection before looking down at her own bosom. She still couldn't believe what she was seeing, feeling and touching even as her senses were trying to convince her that they were real. Right then, a thought immediately struck the new Mrs. Donovan before 'she' let her hand travel south, towards 'her' nether region. The former Frank Xavier has so gotten used to the feeling of something hanging between his legs that it felt almost like a void as his female hand traced the smooth outline of his panty-covered mound. The similar ticklish sensation overcame his feeling of being 'lost' as the soft silk of the old Courtney's thong brushed against his fake but at the same time life-like genitals. The bodysuit-molded dainty fingers stroked at his G-spot through Courtney's pink underwear. The artificial nerve endings worked amazingly like hundreds of microscopic wires as they triggered the real nerve endings of Frank's hidden cock which was now straining almost uncomfortably in its restrictive confinement. A gasp escaped the new Courtney's lips, letting him/ 'her' know that even 'her' voice sounded odd. 'She' spoke to her reflection with her new voice, "Hi, my name is Courtney Donovan." It was like when someone listened to his own recorded voice except that this one has a higher register not to mention softer and absolutely feminine. More importantly, 'she' sounded exactly like the 'old' Courtney and that served to turn on the former Frank Xavier even more. He also knew that he would be able to revert back to his original deep tone if he wished with just a press on a hidden pressure point on his throat. Looking over at the digital clock on the bedside table, Courtney had now realized that she had slept through the sedatives in her system for hours. Bob would be at his office to make sure that things didn't appear out of the ordinary. So, the luckiest crossdresser in the world would have all the time to try out every dresses, skirts, lingerie and heels which the old Courtney Donovan owned. The excitement was almost palpable as 'she' swept her hand against the rows of beautiful cocktail and casual attire hanging in the large closet. The original owner of this wardrobe might have been a spoilt little woman, but she sure knew how to dress up. 'She' didn't even manage to pick out anything as the urge was too much. The impostor had to throw herself back onto the bed seemingly unable to keep her hands off her new 'equipment'. 'She' had multiple orgasms in between trying out articles of dresses and lingerie. Curious with what the bodysuit's inventor had told 'her', the new Courtney even experimented with releasing 'her' old cock from its hiding place. And what a feeling it was... being able to breathe and ejaculate from within the perfect disguise. 'She' did spare some time to check herself out in front of the full-length mirror with 'her' semi- erect member jutting out awkwardly from her silicone vagina. However ambiguous it might be, the reflected image of a gorgeous chick-with-a- dick was rather arousing. ***** A grin appeared on his Courtney-face as the government's most wanted man thought about the wonderful time he had had during his first day as Bob's wife. He remembered the uncertainty on Bob's behalf when the husband returned home later that evening to find his wife in her usual attire waiting for him at the dinner table. Wearing Courtney's favorite dress, a red off-shoulder-mini-dress, while acting precisely like the real deal, Bob had nearly forgotten that the person underneath all that was his true love - Frank. They had made wonderful love that night after a candle-light dinner. The former Frank recalled the very first time when he was blown away by the sensation of their cocks rubbing against each other as Bob penetrated 'her' artificial pussy. It was as if he had experienced sex for the very first time. The phony Courtney truly believed 'she' had lost her virginity on that wonderful night. "What's on your mind, honey?" asked Bob, noticing the wife's lovely smile as she was resting on his chest. Somehow, the husband didn't think it that was just as simple as the post-orgasmic glow. "I was just reliving the moment when we first had sex with me as Courtney Donovan... You know, with you treating me like a real woman..." "Oh my love... You're so much more than any biological women out there could ever be... You know how much I've fallen in love with you..." Bob said reassuringly. With that, 'Courtney' immediately grabbed the husband's strong hand as she guided him to 'her' most intimate part. Frank's cock had withdrawn on its own back into the bodysuit. "Make love to me once more... treat me like a real woman..." the insatiable 'wife' demanded. How could Bob refuse? The Morrisons "What do you think mom?" asked the bubbly 18 year-old Hannah Morrison as she flaunt a designer-dress that she was wearing in front of her mom. Gwen couldn't help feeling proud of how her daughter had turned into such a fetching young lady as she acknowledged the purple halter-dress which fitted the teenager like a glove. Hannah appeared to be one of those lucky enough to have the sort of figure which would make any dress looked like a million dollar. The one she was trying out wasn't that far off in terms of the actual price tag either, as it was designed by one of the top designer from Paris. It was the eleventh attire they have checked out in one of the many upscale boutiques Manhattan had to offer as Gwen Morrison tried to help her daughter in choosing the best outfit for her senior prom. "Sweetie, I think this is the one," Gwen said as she uncrossed her long, smooth legs before getting up from the comfort of the boutique's couch to walk across the private dressing area towards her daughter for a closer inspection. The 39-year-old mother lightly tugged at the material of the lavish dress as it hugged her daughter's petite figure like a second skin. Standing behind the teenager while facing the fitting room's full-length mirror, Gwen admired the reflection of herself and her beautiful daughter. Complimentary to her well-kempt appearance, the pair looked more like sisters than mother and daughter. They both shared the same ocean blue eyes, the narrow yet slightly upturned nose, luscious pair of lips and high cheek structures. Golden blonde mane with the gentlest of curves seemed to be the perfect frames for these features as they grew past both of their respective shoulders. With the money left behind by Gwen's late husband, they could have easily afforded the best plastic surgeon on the east coast but that was unnecessary. Contrary to popular belief, everything on her and her lovely daughter was au natural. From her size C gravity-defying breasts to her narrow waistline and tight midsection which was made all the more alluring by her flared-out hips as well as her athletic long pair of jogger legs - they were all naturally developed. All these too were being passed down to young Hannah. Of all the wealth and everything else Gwen was thankful for her late husband - Peter Morrison, she was most grateful that her daughter didn't look anything like him. Well, she should not. After all, Hannah wasn't really his daughter. It was something no one else knew, not even the real father - probably some drunk Gwen met while partying 18 years ago. And it happened not long after she had walked down the aisle with Peter. In spite of how much Peter had loved her, Gwen had no regrets that she cheated on her husband. As a matter of fact, she continued sleeping around whenever Peter wasn't around, and the husband wasn't around a lot. Her life was too precious to be wasted on one man alone. Gwen had even tempted her next-door neighbor Bob Donovan but somehow, the handsome Wall street broker wasn't interested. It was certainly rare for any straight man to turn down her advances, unless of course, Mr. Donovan wasn't straight. That was certainly not possible, seeing how happy Mrs. Donovan had been since they had moved into the slot next door. "Mom... Mom..." Hannah's sweet tone had awoken Gwen from her thoughts. The teenager had already changed back to the more casual attire she had worn earlier for the shopping trip with mom. Gwen was still daydreaming in front of the fitting room while her daughter was already waiting for her mom at the cashier with the prom dress of her choice - along with a couple more she found to her liking. The teenager rolled her eyes, showing signs of annoyance and impatience with her mom's ineptitude. As graceful as usual, the mother swayed her hips towards her daughter before reaching for her Platinum card from a fancy purse in her Louis Vuitton clutch bag. She could feel her tight white blouse and the red knee-length pencil skirt clinging to her slender figure while the hose-encased thighs brushed against each other underneath, as well as hearing the sounds of her red 4-inch pumps clicking on the shiny marble flooring. The thousands of dollars which she had to sign to her credit card didn't faze her either - all thanks to the fortune left behind by her deceased husband, Peter. His software company was still bringing in all the money even after his passing due to an unfortunate car accident - or so many had thought. The insurance company and Peter's lawyer (whom Gwen had shared the same bed with on a couple of occasions) had concluded that the crash was an accident. Gwen had to make them think so in order for Peter's will and the healthy amount of his insurance money to sail safely into her bank account. They didn't have to know what she did with Peter's car as well as the fact that she timed her jump out of the car perfectly just before it went over the cliff. They also had no need to know that Peter had just started dwelling into her little endeavors with other men and most importantly, Hannah's DNA. Of course, she made sure that her husband wouldn't live to find out about the truth and hence didn't get the chance to alter his will before the 'accident'. "Thank you for your patronage and please come again, Mrs. and Miss Morrison," the saleslady said as she handed them their purchases. Without even looking at the sales lady, Gwen Morrison sashayed out of the store with a smirk on her strikingly beautiful face as she - with her teenage daughter happily in tow - made their way to the next designer boutique. Moving In "Sweetie, the white ankle-straps look better with your prom dress," Gregory sounded odd mimicking Gwen Morrison with his deep manly voice. The tone would be corrected by the bodysuit but still he had to nail Gwen's southern accent and pronounciation. The stalker was making some final adjustments to his impersonation by reenacting the mannerisms and conversation between Mrs. Morrison and her daughter when they were shopping at Manhattan a few hours earlier. The bug planted on one of the diamonds on Gwen's LV clutch bag had transmitted everything in real time from Manhattan Square. Their latest location shown on the GPS screen indicated that the Morrisons were on their way home. Gregory, along with his partner, Nathan was already waiting inside the vast two-story home left behind by Peter Morrison. There wasn't any problem entering the premise with the part-time housekeeper Mariah being one of their own. She was the one making all the internal surveillance for the operation. The organization's team were already on standby in one of the guest rooms. All that was left was the impending arrival of the targets. While Nathan was getting accustomed to Hannah's possessions in the teenager's room, Gregory couldn't help but admire the enormous wardrobe which Gwen had accumulated. The smell of expensive perfume occupied his senses as he explored the master bedroom in person for the very first time. 'What have I gotten myself into?' Gregory was only beginning to wonder. He wouldn't be here if not for Dillon. His relationship with Dillon McCain, the big name attorney in New York City, was once a highly publicized rumor until Mr. McCain was swift to quash all the hearsay with his firm denial and threats to hit back with legal action. Gregory had always put on a tough front whenever he was working for Dillon as his assistant but the public denial and the attention from government watchdogs meant he could no longer continue his employment and the intimacy with the lawyer. It was a shame indeed as Dillon was the only person apart from his own mother who really understood Gregory. Only these two knew about the feminine side of him - the side who envied rather than admired beautiful women. He had told no one the fact that he was thrown out by his father when he was caught wearing his sister's pretty red dress. Gregory would never forget how the soft fabric felt against his then 12 year-old skin. But since that day, he had promised never to crossdress again - even during his courtship with McCain - until he was discovered by the 'organization'. Now standing inside the spacious walk-in closet of Gwen Morrison, Gregory's crossdressing fetish reawakened. He knew this day would come since joining the 'organization' but his anticipation would never prepare him for this. His heart was pumping as if he was sprinting in a hundred-meter-race in the presence of Gwen's extravagant wardrobe and fancy dresses. Grazing his bony fingers across the rows of hanging skirts and blouses only served to heighten the excitement as an erection was quickly building on his crotch, making a tent on Gwen's bathrobe which he was wearing. The softness and the scent reminded Gregory of his sister's pretty red dress. But this was so much more. As he turned around to face the large and elongated four-drawer-dresser sitting majestically across, Gregory felt the adrenaline almost bursting through his veins. Tracing his skeletal digits along the top of the furniture, he couldn't wait to explore its contents. Just as he was about to dive into Gwen's most private belongings, 'military' Frank made a loud entrance into the master bedroom. The guy never knew how to knock, thought Gregory. "We have a problem," the operation's team leader proclaimed making Gregory jumped. Intervention It had always been her business to take care of her neighbors' business. No one could ever take that away from Maggie Chaplin. The presence of the mysterious black van had been bugging her hyper-curious mind for weeks now and she had not been able to find out a shred of information about it. However, the opportunity had presented itself this fine day when she spotted a couple of pest control vans making its way into the vast property of the Morrisons with one of them steering itself directly into their 4-car garage. The one stationed in the open at the doorstep took off not long after dropping off a trio of masked and uniformed pest control personnel. It all seemed like a pretty routine maintenance visit to most but not to Maggie. She had immediately noticed something was not right due to a couple of reasons. First, she saw with her own eyes that the Morrison's had gone out as they usually do on most weekends. For the past four years since they had become her neighbors, the Morrisons would never let anyone into their residence with neither of them home. Secondly, the vans looked kind of familiar to the single real estate agent until she recalled that it appeared to be the same make and model to the mysterious black van. However, the most vital piece of clue which persuaded Maggie to investigate further was the appearance of the two vehicles. No one would pick it up unless they scrutinized it as much as Maggie - with her peeping binoculars. The paint job of the company's logo seemed hastened while the registration plate didn't appear to comply with the state's law. Not wanting to wrongfully trigger any alarm, Maggie swiftly gave her friend - who happened to work in the same pest control company - a call. Once she was convinced that there wasn't supposed to be any maintenance services scheduled, Maggie made it her responsibility as an exemplary citizen and neighbor to inform Mrs. Morrison about the very possible break-in. "Mrs. Morrison... I'm Maggie Chaplin from across the street..." "Oh... Hi, Maggie... What's up..?" Gwen spoke hands-free through her BMW's Bluetooth functionality. "Well... I think someone's breaking into your home...," Maggie said. ***** As she recalled the panic conversation which ensued, Maggie stood behind a couple of police officers at the front door of the Morrisons residence. Gwen was still stuck with her daughter Hannah in the brutal New York traffic. She had bestowed upon her neighbor to call the police and have her property checked out. It didn't take long though as officers Walsh and Le Blanc showed up at Maggie's doorstep before they made the short trip across towards the Morrisons place. Maggie told the two officers that the van which had been driven into the Morrisons' garage had not been seen to have left the premise yet as the nosy neighbor had been keeping her eyes on the property while waiting for the police. The thieves might very well still be in the house, all thanks to Maggie's decisive actions and the authorities swift arrival. "M'am, we need you to step back a little while we go in and have a look..." officer Walsh instructed for Maggie's own safety. As she nodded and shuffled quickly back to one of the huge oak trees which lined the outer perimeter of the Morrison's large compound, Maggie could feel the butterflies in her stomach. When she looked over her shoulder, the officers were still whispering presumably in deciding whether to storm in now or wait for backup. Things were about to get exciting and she couldn't wait to share it with her fellow gossipers. To be continued... Note: This story have no intention of bringing homosexuality into the same breath as crossdressing. Nor it meant to say that all crossdressers like men. In fact, most homosexual men do not crossdress. On the other hand, a lot of crossdressers are straight. Frank Xavier and Gregory Welton were only happened to fit into both these categories while not all candidates from the organization were as willing as these two to begin with. I hope that you have read the story with an open mind.