Getting Over Richard free porn video

Getting Over Richard. By Tanya H. I was an idiot, a stupid thoughtless (slightly drunk) idiot. What had I been thinking? I'd almost bared myself to him - Richard Blake: God Almighty I'd been thinking of kissing him, almost come out to him. As though he was going to react well that that nugget; that one of his circle of friends was gay; like he thought any more of me that the quiet one in the group, the one who always agreed, always followed, always did as he was told. I styled my hair like him, followed the same fashions, liked the same things on social media, listened to the same music and had the same opinions. I was an idiot. The bedroom door shook its frame as I slammed it behind me. I threw myself on the bed and stared at the ceiling. He'd better think it was the drink had got the better of me. Hopefully he'd assume the charged atmosphere of the Big Boss's leaving do and his emotional speech had lit some fire in me. God help me if he realised that what had almost been spoken was my love for him, my lust for him. If he actually thought I spent lots of lone time with my cock in my hand imagining I was sucking his, playing with it, letting him mount me, I'd be written off as a dirty homo and my time in the company would likely end in misery and bullying. I would never wake in bed next to and smelling of the great Richard Blake. What I needed to do was get over him. How could I though? He was amazing. Not only in his looks, which were breathtaking, or his physique, awesome, but because he was an all round good bloke - a man's man. I'd known him for just over a year, ever since I started in the company's admin department as an office junior. He was in quality control, and was he quality! I'd only got to know him when I'd tried out for the firm's five-a-side football team. I was, I am, a decent goalkeeper and selection for the team drew me into the elite circle of Richard Blake's mates. Right up to the point where I almost touched his hand, almost leant over in the noisy, crowded function room where the Boss was having his leaving do and almost whispered my love for him. The thought of it made my cheeks burn. How could I be that drunk and that stupid? A need to pass some of the filtered remnants of all the lager I'd drunk drove me from the bed towards the en-suite toilet. We'd taken rooms in the hotel where the function had been booked, just a few miles from the works. Set in its own grounds beside a twee village, the hotel looked like a former mansion of some historical era and gave off an air of faded luxury and barely recalled glories. I'd never stayed in a place like it and had been so awed by my room I'd almost gone back to reception and told the lady there that such a place couldn't be for a jumped-up clerk like me. The room had a presence of its own, deepened by the heavy, dark and curved furniture, the opulent four-poster bed and warm scents of pine logs and beeswax polish. After washing my hands and splashing cool water on my face, I had decided to head back to the party, to the noise and laughter and all my colleagues to face Richard Blake. I would laugh off the whole thing, buy more drinks, take the piss out of our mates and leer at the girls. All would be well and I would never, ever speak of my love for him ever again. Heading for the door, the big, ornate dress mirror beside the wardrobe caught my eye - more precisely some movement within it, but of course it was only my reflection. I took another couple of steps and then stopped. It hadn't been my reflection. It had been a girl. The loose swirl of her long, dark hair had given it away. Some quirk of the room's dim lighting must have tricked my tipsy eyes, but when I looked there was this dark haired girl looking back at me. An open mouthed, furrowed brow expression of surprise and consternation was laid across her face - like she was in her room in a different, parallel world and wondering why I was looking back from her mirror. Then her frown deepened. Creases messed with her smooth forehead, her eyes narrowed. She looked like me! I too had dark brown hair, though mine was fashionably cropped around the back and sides while floppy on top. We shared the same rather prominent nose and mid-brown eyes, lean builds and long limbs. I would have guessed her to be in her mid-twenties and I was twenty three. Where I was wearing a fashionable shirt, slacks and boots, she was showing her legs with an attractive, short-sleeved black skater dress. I liked her figure - feminine, but not round. It looked like she had cute boobs under there, her neckline was a little high to be sure. She balanced carelessly on pointed, high-heeled shoes and her legs gleamed with black nylon. How weird was that? I gave a little wave. Like I was the kind of man who stared at women. Her face relaxed and she waved back. Really weird. I blinked and when I looked again she had gone. There I was, looking dazed and a little stupid. I shook my head - lager! It really was bad for you. Outside, in the carpeted corridor I took a deep breath and put the mirror behind me. I had Richard Blake to worry about. An Pete, Rob and Greg - the rest of the team. If Richard told them how I'd been they'd be after me like a pack. Beer, football, women, family and work - that was how they worked. Any suggestion I was gay and they'd eat me alive - not in a nice way either. Because I wasn't really gay. You wouldn't look at me and think, that lad's queer. I might be working in an admin department dominated by slightly overweight middle-aged women, but I wasn't feminine, I didn't have a soft voice and camp mannerisms or wear make up or frequent the rainbow pubs in town - though I'd walked past a few times trying to build the courage to go inside, just out of curiosity, you understand. I'd had girlfriends in the past - Celine Parker had taken my virginity when I was just fifteen and had enthusiastically sucked my cock on several furtive occasions. I'd even had a steady girlfriend through the first year of college and had quietly dumped her when I started to fully come to terms with the fantasises that had been growing in their insistence and excitement. When I'd been out with Richard and the lads, I'd stared at the girls with them, made coarse jokes about them and even fucked the plump, Polish lass they'd found for me one night in Oxford. Women were pretty, women were sensual and pleasant to be with, but men were sexy, men were beautiful and the more I thought about it, the more pictures I looked at on the internet, the more I realised I wanted to spend my life with one. So far the fulfilment of those fantasies had been a little sporadic and half-hearted. I hadn't spoke to anybody else about my sexuality and was terrified of actually having to explain to colleagues or to remaining family that I was gay. There had been one, fumbling, drunken encounter with a friend at college - first time I'd had a cock and cum in my mouth - that had made our friendship too awkward to continue, and a couple of meets via the internet. The first had been cool - a fast and furtive mutual masturbation and blowjob meet with a slightly older married guy, the second had been a little more protracted with a grey-haired bloke who'd mounted me, gently, before trying to give me some money. Why I'd thought the womanising Richard Blake would respond well to my drink fuelled, clumsy advanced was inexplicable, but in the moments after I nearly outed myself I'd mumbled some story about a phone call and headed for the gardens where the signal was better. On my way back to the party I decided I ought to return from the garden direction so I cut through Reception, returned the friendly smile from the pretty receptionist (girls found me attractive even if Richard Blake didn't) and found myself under a spring moon in the gardens. A couple of wrong turns later, when I'd nearly stumbled into a pond and almost got stuck in some fragrant, climbing roses I thought I was in the right direction for the function rooms when I came to a wooden bench under an arch of Honeysuckle. Maybe it was the transition from the warm hotel to the cool, spring night, but I found myself more woozy, unsteady on my feet and flushed in the way that suggested I might be building up for a good spew. After steaming a giant yawn I thought maybe a little rest would do me good so I dropped onto the bench and closed my eyes against the way the drink was making my head whirl. The cold air would help me sober up, help settle my thoughts so I could face Richard with my quirked grin so all would be as it had been. Then, after another long jaw aching yawn, I closed my eyes a moment. Boy, I was more pissed than I thought. It would probably better if I just went back to my room and faced them over breakfast. They'd have forgotten by then. Voices intruded. My eyes were heavy, too heavy to open. My body wooden, grown from the bench and so surprisingly comfortable I didn't want to move. Even when I recognised Rob's rather nasal tones I kept still, enjoying the darkness behind my eyelids. "Where is she?" he said - complainingly, like he'd been dragged away from something more important. "Silly cow. Did you see the way she was necking that Becks, Rich? She'll be spark out in a bush somewhere with one of them foreign waiters fingering her." That was Pete - he was a petite man, but quick with the ball and accurate against the goal. "Then we, as proper fucking gentlemen, are duty bound to save her," said Richard. "Maybe she'll be so grateful she'll nosh you two off while I fuck her slow and sure from behind." They giggled and I wondered which female they had imprinted on and were stalking this time. Probably that blonde from the milling section. Apparently she liked more than one man at a time, though nobody I knew had ever proved it. I decided to keep quiet, mildly resentful that my peaceful snooze under the roses and the stars was being disturbed. Their voices, their mean laughter was coming closer. Maybe they would pass me by. "Here she is," said Richard a moment later. Closer now. He was close enough to be behind my bower - what a coincidence. His target was almost on top of me. "Sleeping like a fucking princess," said Pete. "Proper princess," Richard snorted. "The way she'd flounced off, making up some bollocks about phoning somebody. Fuck! I thought she was going to kiss me." "Should have let her," said Rob. "Nah. Lezza like that! Anyway, she's got no tits. I like "em big." "Plenty to hang on to," said Pete. They laughed again, but quietly, as if they didn't want to wake her. It couldn't be the blonde, her breasts were legendary. Maybe one of the guests, or even a wife. Imagine the scandal around them being caught fucking somebody's wife! "Have a look under her dress," Pete suggested. "She might be wearing stockings with them fuck-me shoes." "Girls like Beth don't wear stockings," Richard said with great authority. I didn't know anybody called Beth, but they clearly knew her. "Have a look anyway," Rob said. "Only a bit of fun. we aren't going to finger her or anything." "Get ready with your phone," Richard ordered. There was a light touch on my thigh. Like a butterfly had landed on it. The hand was warm, and gentle. Somebody giggled. That hand pushed higher up my thigh and cool air touched my skin behind it. I should have shouted, but a growing disbelief snatched away any controlling connection with my body. There was a chuckle again. "Tights," said Richard. "Told you." "Best fucking legs in the league though. Hold still." "Don't get my face in it, you twat," Richard said before a harsh white light exploded before me. "Left your flash on, dickhead! Rob squealed. "Run!" Richard hissed and their laughter and footsteps went with them, back towards the noise of the disco. Leaving me blinded and trembling on my bench. I drew up my knees and reached tentatively for the thigh where the echoes of Richards hand still burnt. My fingers touched my skin. My skin felt my fingers, but it didn't feel right. I was smooth and sheer - not trousered. Tights! A little higher, almost to my hip, I found a line of cloth - the dress Richard Blake had pushed up so they could see if I was wearing stockings. I sat up suddenly, like I was on strings. Aftershocks of the camera flash still ghosted my retinas, but I didn't need to be able to see the silken weight that fell around my shoulders and stroked my shoulder. My chest was heavy and bloated - much worse than that feeling you get when you have't been to the gym for a few days and your pecs start softening. It had been me they'd been talking about, my legs they'd been leering over - my tits that weren't big enough. "But how?" I murmured opening my eyes. My voice was light and silky, tight in my throat. I looked down and my knees were pressed together and bared by the flared material of a black dress draped across my thighs. Though my dress was relatively high-necked, I could still see the first swell of breasts down there. Definitely not what I was used to - definitely female, but how? Surely the night couldn't get any worse? I could be hallucinating - so drunk I was imagining I was a girl as some sort of defence mechanism against what I had almost done with Richard. The cold felt real though. The goosebumps across my arms and chest felt real and I shivered. I couldn't stay out here all night, I'd freeze. I needed to think and my head was spinning in all different directions at once. I tried a deep breath. Then another. If I wasn't hallucinating then as weird as it sounded, something had turned me female. That something had changed my clothes and also got into Richard, Pete and Rob's head to make them think I was a girl. I didn't know of anything that could do that, it was proper fantasy - right out of Hogwarts! That mirror! I couldn't see the face I was in, but the dark hair curling at the edge of my vision and the dress draping my thighs were like that female reflection I'd see. Maybe the mirror had done it. Standing, brushing hair from my face I decided to head back to my room and see if it would change me back. If you think I was accepting this a little too readily, remember I had drunk a fair amount. And what else could I do? Sit there and pretend nothing had happened, or try something? I was going to try reasoning with a magic mirror! After hurrying through the garden back to the main part of the hotel, my scrambled brain made the connection between the firm, womanly tapping that appeared to be keeping step with me and my changed circumstances. I had been concentrating on ignoring the unusual way the female me moved. It was like driving a car that was radically different to the one you were used to - the controls and actions were all the same, it just felt wrong. That woman in the mirror had been wearing high heels and when I looked down, past the changed contours imposed on my body, I saw those shoes had been mapped across to my feet. Looking over my shoulder and doing a backwards cow kick with first one foot and then the other, I was mildly surprised with how well I was managing - there must have been at least four inches of stiletto under each foot. I may have come close to a suicidal leap from the closet earlier, but I was man enough to appreciate a good pair of shoes on the right lady's feet - just not making my ankles look more slender than they had any right to look. As a small act of defiance against my new gender, I stripped off the impossible shoes and stopped myself short of throwing them as far as I could across the gardens. Only having one pair of decent, evening shoes I was hoping they'd be returned to a male style when I got myself man again. The path was cold under my practically bare feet, but I did feel a little more in control and besides, lots of girls walked home from a night out carrying their heels. "You're not really a girl," I reminded myself, forcefully. My new voice was too high pitched and smooth to make the statement sound convincing. The carpet in the hotel reception felt better underfoot and the warmth inside was welcome. Keeping my eyes down I walked determinedly towards the stairs. Under better lighting my toenails were revealed as a pretty dark red colour through the black nylon. While trying to hurry and stare at them at the same time, while wondering about what kind of thing could have made me like this, I almost walked into a man who was just turning out of the stairwell. He held me at arms length and I found myself looking at Paul, the Health and Safety man. He worked in the next door office, we got on well enough in a quiet sort of way. He was a bit older than me, a bookish, geeky sort of guy, but tonight with a stylish shirt and trousers, with his hair combed and a gleam in his eye he looked okay. I'd always been taller, but if I'd still had those heels on I'd be towering over him. Now, he looked terrified, wouldn't meet my eye and was staring almost fixedly over my left shoulder. "Hello, Beth," he said quickly. Beth? I glanced around, there was nobody else who looked like a Beth nearby. Then it hit home - that must be me. "Are you okay?" he said. "Having a moment, mate," I said - classic English understatement. "I just need to get something from my room." "Sorry." He stepped aside. "Sure you're okay?" "Positive," I lied, already heading up the stairs two at a time. I could feel his eyes on me as I went - probably trying to see up my dress. Dirty bastard. Not long had passed since I'd left the room, but lots had gone wrong in that time. Superficially the room looked the same, but as I dropped the shoes and went for the mirror I noticed a couple of subtle changes; where my comb had been on the dressing table was now a big hairbrush with a purple elastic wound around the handle, the pair of jeans I'd conveniently left on the back of the chair was a long, burgundy skirt. Brilliant. I planted myself before the offending mirror with my feet apart and hands on my hips. My expression was belligerent. Apart from that, the reflection looked identical to the one I'd seen earlier - a smooth, female me with long hair, interesting curves and much of my legs on show beneath a skater dress. Despite everything a little voice whispered, from deep inside my head, "You make a gorgeous girl though, Henry." "Shut up," I said aloud. I was not a gorgeous girl. I'm a man. "Change me back!" Nothing happened. I closed my eyes and visualised the way I had looked when I had been last in the room. Nothing happened. The reflection and I remained resolutely female. "Not good enough," I said and slumped onto the edge of the bed. I needed to think, but there were too many distractions - sight of the pretty girl in the mirror, the way the dress bared my lower thighs and knees and the close weave of the tights across them. The way my chest was disfigured by the impossible breasts. Curiosity got the better of me and made me pull the dress out a little so I could see how the creamy, hairless skin on my chest flowed up seamlessly over the new mammary tissue and then disappeared under the lace edged cup of a black bra. It was a similar story down below. My muscular legs were now sleek and where they joined at the top there was no suggestion at all, under some tiny, black panties, of anything male ever having been there. Without pulling any underwear aside it was clear that I was built to accommodate erections now, not to generate one of my own. Maybe cock was the answer though! Maybe whatever magical thing there was in that mirror sensed my need, my craving for Richard Blake's and had made me into the kind of person he wouldn't mind sinking himself into; even if it had been wide of the mark with the breasts. I glanced at the door. Since this change had been done to me the only people I had met had thought of me as a woman, people I had known since I came to work for the company. I could go down to the function room again, sit myself on Richard's knee and slip my arm around his shoulders and let things take their course. In the eyes of the world he was a boy, I was a girl; what could be more natural? We could come back here for some energetic fucking, I would have had my fix of his cock, my gay urges could go back in the closet and come morning I'd be myself again. Halfway out of the door I remembered the heels. He'd prefer me in them and I walked tall, like a princess, all the way to the function room, to the loud music and throng of happy people. The heat and noise inside wrapped me lovingly as I stepped inside. The dance floor was pressed with people, young and old, while the DJ boomed out some floor filler from generations ago. The lights flashed and flickered disorienting me for a moment. Then I saw them. They were still at the table they'd picked early on - close enough to the dance floor to watch the women. They were leaning back in their seats, cold beers in their hands watching the show - not even pretending to be doing anything other than perving at the other women in their party dresses and towering shoes. If I let Richard fuck me he'd tell Pete and Rob about it. About me. If I spread my legs for him and showed him the perfect pussy that was nestling between them right now, if I let him inside and sighed at the feel of him slipping his full length into my body he'd tell them that too. Maybe he'd joke that I was too skinny, too inexperienced and he had to think of somebody else while he did it. He'd said things like that about other women and I'd laughed dutifully along because I'd wanted to be like him, I'd wanted him to want me as I wanted him. "Hi, Beth," said a man. He was very close, close enough to be almost touching my bare arm and he made me jump. "Sorry," he said. "I was miles away," I said back. It was the old Big Boss, whose retirement we were celebrating. He'd called me Beth even through two years ago he's interviewed me, said I was a smart young man who'd be a credit to the company. "You look upset, are you alright?" I shook my head. Hair tumbled into my eyes and I swept it back jerkily. "Just went for some fresh air," I said. "I know what you mean." He put his hand in the small of my back and moved me away from the door. Somebody else was coming in. His hand lingered a little longer than was necessary. It was very warm. "You look lovely tonight. I'll miss coming to work and seeing all you pretty girls." My cheeks went hot. "I'm sure you'll be too busy for that." "Mrs Carlton will keep me busy, I'm sure," he said and looked towards his plump wife who was dancing with the head of finance. "Take care, Beth," he said and before I could move away he'd kissed me on the cheek, then he was gone, back into the crowd. My mouth was dry. Edward Carlton, who had managed his engineering company through boom and bust governments and passed it as a thriving concern to his niece, thought I was a pretty girl called Beth as well. Whatever I had got myself into was potent stuff. I needed a drink. One drink and then I then I'd reconsider the Richard fuck option. He was still staring at the dancers and the thought of kissing him, never mind letting him touch me didn't feel quite so exciting as it had a minute ago. Then a tall, voluptuous blonde in a too- tight red dress settled herself comfortably on the knee I had decided was my own. He was clearly happy with her presumption for her kissed her deeply and cupped one of her substantial boobs even though Pete was staring with lust and jealousy clear on his face. "Bitch!" I felt myself mutter. She was snogging and being fondled by my ticket back to manhood. I could have gone over there and made a scene, but that would have sucked out the atmosphere! I signed, swore softly and edged my way to the bar to consider my options. It was busy. At one point I felt a hand brush the backs of my thigh, just under my dress, but when I whirled around there was nobody there who looked like they'd done it. A dewed bottle of Becks was placed in front of me and the barman held out his hand. I had no pockets, no money. Where had my wallet gone? "How about I pay for that, darling," said a gaunt looking man, about my age, with a loud purple top and oiled hair. I'm ashamed to admit that, for just a millisecond, I thought about accepting and seeing if jumping him would make me male again. His teeth were jagged and brown, he hadn't shaved for a couple of days and had a suggestion of poor personal hygiene about him. I wasn't that desperate - not yet anyway. "I'd rather you didn't," I said frostily and found a small purse hanging from a fine strap across my shoulder. "Lezza," he sneered as he slipped back into the crowd. "What a knob," the barman said. I shrugged, like I was used to it. Inside the purse I found a wallet, a tiny heart shaped mirror, my room key, a lipstick and a condom. I paid for the drink quickly, hoping the barman had not seen the contraceptive. The icy lager felt like bliss pouring down my throat. I closed my eyes for a moment. Then I looked into the wallet. The driving licence had a picture of the female me with my hair tied back and it said my name was Bethany Rosalyn Hughes. My mum had been called Rosalyn. Somehow my bottle was empty. I didn't remember finishing it. Women were supposed to have less tolerance to alcohol than men, but I didn't even feel as light headed as I had when I'd almost blown it with Richard. Had that been the catalyst? "Hi, Beth. Having fun?" Men kept sidling up to me and making me jump when I was miles away. Something short and ungrateful almost came out, but it was Paul again, still looking nervous. Before I could reply he blurted, "Can I get you a drink?" I waved my empty bottle, "I think I've had enough." "One more? You don't look very happy. Want to come and join us?" He said it like there wasn't a hope in hell that I would and nodded to a corner booth with padded benches and a table full of glasses and bottles. There was an old couple there, looking very uncomfortable and a plump, red headed girl from Despatch called Nicole. It was anonymous, and away from the people bustling around the bar. Hopefully nobody would call me a lesbian there. The alternative was heading back to my room and staring at a wall until I cried myself to sleep. I nodded and followed him, sat myself beside Nicole and remembered to cross my legs at the knee rather than ankle. The old woman looked me up and down with a pointed look that made me feel like a prostitute. She tugged her companions sleeve and they stiffly rose and left, without saying goodbye. "You finally got tired of trying to get Richard Blake in your knickers then?" said Nicole with a sneer. She had a high pitched Scottish voice. She was wearing a white top which bared a lot of soft cleavage and a long, black satin skirt. Her shoes were spangled and flat over black fishnet tights. "Nicky!" said Paul. "Well!" she said. "The bloke is a complete fucking knob and girls like Beth here only make him into a bigger knob when they keep throwing themselves at him. I stared at her a moment, lips pressed together - like my day wasn't working out into an awful mess, I had to have it all picked apart by her. "She's only jealous," Paul laughed. "I am not!" she screeched, then her face softened and she laughed as well. She reached over and touched my knee. "Sorry, hen. I don't mean anything." I turned to look across at Richard. I could only see the back of his head. "I think I had a lightbulb moment about half an hour ago." "Do tell?" "I'm an idiot." My mouth went down at the corners, "And apparently I'm not big enough," I said with a gesture towards my chest. "Wanker!," said Nicole. "Do I look different tonight?" I said suddenly. Paul and Nicole exchanged looks. "In what way?" she said. I shrugged. "Do I look myself?" Nicole snorted. "You did turn heads with that dress. Hey, Paul?" Paul went deep red. "Why?" "To be honest, darling, I thought you were in that other club, you know, with all your trousers and flat shoes and your hair always tied back, playing football with the blokes? Now look at you - hair down, little dress and killer heels? Maybe my gaydar need recalibrating." Some time passed, I wasn't sure how long. I finished the lager and Nicole brought a bottle of wine with three glasses. Some small talk passed between us, but not much else. My head was too full of my predicament to make me good company. "Do you fancy a dance?" Paul said, startling me. I think Nicole had been encouraging him to asking this for a while. He smiled nervously and the thought of being up there with him was an attractive one. It was just past eleven and the music was starting to slow. I hadn't seen Richard for some time and if the object of my gender change was to allow me a night of passion with a man then I could do much much worse than Paul. I looked to Nicole. She shook her head. "Fill your boots, Beth. He's not my type." "Oh?" I looked him up and down. He was a good looking lad. "What's your type then?" She fixed me with her bright blue eyes. "You are." Then she laughed again, touched my knee and told me to go and enjoy myself. "Do you prefer Beth or Bethany?" he asked, leaning close over the music. I'd never been much of a dancer, but with wider hips, high heels and the dress's movement around me I found myself enjoying it. "What do you like?" I said, not having had much time to form an opinion either way. "Bethany. It's prettier. Like you." It was clumsy I know, but while I smiled at him the look in his eyes said he meant it. "Then I prefer Bethany." "I need the little girl's room," I excused myself, took a sip of my wine and headed nervously into uncharted territory. It smelt better than I was used to and the floor wasn't as wet. Locking myself into a cubicle I confronted the biggest, most fundamental change to my physique. Beneath a generous spread of soft, dark curls were a pretty set of pale pink lips and the hood that would hide my sleeping clitoris. Everything I had grown used to and come to enjoy over the years was gone. I almost brushed a fingertip along them, but stopped short of actual contact. I was actually a woman, a proper woman! Focus, Bethany! I said to myself. This is only temporary, remember? As soon as you bed Paul it will al be back to normal. Hopefully! In the absence of anything to point I just squeezed gently and watched the flow, dabbed myself delicately dry before rearranging panties and tights - commendably without putting a finger through them. Nicole was waiting just outside, her arms folded. "We're supposed to go to the loo together, it's regulation!" "Oops." I shrugged. "Sort your lippie out, darling, because then we're going outside for a smoke." "I don't smoke," I said, frowning now. "Neither do I!" She nodded towards the mirrors. "Lipstick." She jerked a thumb towards the door. "Then out." I pouted at a mirror. I wasn't wearing lipstick, or any make up at all. Everything about the face but for the smooth skin that had clearly never needed a razor was the old me. The tumble of gently curling hair and small, hoop earrings were new. "It will do," I said and started for the door. "You don't seem very good at this girly stuff, Beth," Nicole said caustically. I whirled around faster than I probably should have done - as if she could see something I could not, maybe my legs had suddenly gone all male and hairy, perhaps I was turning back! "Why do you say that?" I squeaked. "Dress tucked into the back of your tights!" Some younger girls further along started laughing and my cheeks went hot - again. I wasn't sure where this encounter was going, but Nicole had a determined look to her eye and walked so fast I practically trotted to keep up - no mean feat in stilettos across gravel - before she sat heavily on a bench overlooking the drive and patted the space beside her. Knowing when I was beaten I sat. "I have questions," she started. "First - do you actually like Paul? Second - are you just on the rebound because Mr Golden-Bollocks turned you down for the size of your boobies and third, even worse than question two, are you just trying to make Richard Bloody Blake jealous by dancing with Paul?" "This has been without question the weirdest night of my life," I said after a few moments contemplating the stars. "Don't skip the question, missie. I'll tell you for nothing, you hurt that poor laddie and I'll be after you." "Does he like me?" "Does he like you! Christ! The poor lamb's eyeballs have practically dried out. He practically dropped his yoghurt when you agreed to come and sit us poor wee wallflowers and that was after I wasted fifteen minutes of my life telling to go up to bar and talk to you!" "Oh. I didn't realise." "You have properly got your head up your arse, lassie." "You don't know the half of it!" I snorted sadly. "I suppose not. Listen, I'm away to my bed, for a bit of lonely pleasure. You get back in there, drag him back to your room and fuck his brains out. It'll do both of you good." "Are all the Scots as blunt as you?" "Only the lesbians." I held her gaze for a moment and thought about leaning in a giving her a long soft kiss and tasting her lipstick. But I didn't, she would have pushed me away to avoid hurting Paul and though the wild idea of inviting them both back to my bedroom danced enticingly through my thoughts, he probably would have fainted if we had suggested it. An expression of profound relief crossed Paul's face when I pushed my way back into the bar. The lights had dimmed, the music was slower, the dance floor was filled with couples gazing contentedly into each other's eyes. One woman in a dark corner had got herself carried away with the passion of the evening - I only caught a glimpse of the back her head, but it was moving between her partners thighs and the mixture of embarrassment, fear and joy on his face was a picture when he realised I'd noticed. "Where's Nicole?" "Gone too bed. I sat right next to him and smiled. "Do you fancy going somewhere a little quieter?" His eyes went wide and his lips parted. Taking a deep breath, I leant forward and brushed my lips across his. I felt him gasp and hold his breath, as if he was scared of blowing me away. I edged a little closer and kissed my first man in public. His lips were soft and warm and tasted of wine. Towing him through the hotel up to my room I felt a new and growing sense of excitement through my body. I was taking a man to my bed! By the time I had shut my bedroom door behind us I was almost breathless with excitement, while the sensations growing inside me were so electric it almost made the whole woman thing almost acceptable. Every step I took made me more aware of slick, slippery labia swelling at the top of my legs while my breasts were aching, tingling, so much I could barely wait to take off my bra. My nipples were pushing hard against the cups, and it said a lot about the style of bra I must have been given that they weren't visible through my dress. I took him tight in my arms, held him close and kissed him hard, parting his lips and pushing my tongue into him. There was a sweet, delightful pause before I felt him return the embrace and there were only seconds before his hands had dropped to caress my round bum. I wanted him to dig his fingers deep into my cleavage, to pull my dress up and touch me properly, but I became suddenly aware of the difference in our heights, made worse now by my heels. "I think I should slip my shoes off," I murmured and kissed his neck. "I don't think you should," he said, running his hands up and down my back. "You look really lovely in them." "Unzip me." He was a little hesitant, like he'd never done it before, but then I felt the dress slipping down me to puddle at my feet. I stepped elegantly from it, kissed him again and laid myself on the bed, ankles crossed modestly watching the way his eyes widened as they took in my body. I was utterly woman from my smooth shoulders, my narrow waist and flared hips while my black bra, panties and tights contrasted beautifully with my pale skin. "My God, Bethany, you are beautiful." "Thank you," I said and smiled. My cheeks felt hot, it was hard to control my breathing. I reached behind my back and with the minimum of fumbling managed to unfasten my bra. I held the cups to my breasts a moment, teasing him, before I took it away and dropped it on the floor. The bra was clearly padded for my breasts were smaller than I'd originally thought, high and firm and each tipped with a hard pink nipple that was aching to be touched. While he stared I gave into temptation and lifted a hand to my left breast, cupping it softly and then brushing my thumb over the nipple. I gasped! It was so sensitive, like nothing I'd ever felt before. Paul was almost forgotten as I dropped my gaze to the breast and circled the nipple with my fingers. I looked up from exploring when I felt weight on the side of the bed. He was naked and moving towards me. His cock was stiff and hard, the tip glistened. I knew with complete certainty that I wanted it inside me more than anything else in the world. Laid alongside each other, we kissed some more. His skin was hot against mine, one of his thighs pinning mine to the bed. I led his hands to my breasts and moaned around his tongue as he caressed so gently. My hips were rocking with a soft, insistent motion and the heat between my legs was almost unbearable. I rolled him onto his back, sat on the edge of the bed and kissed each of his tiny, hard nipples in turn. "I don't know a sexy way to so this," I whispered, my eyes drawn to his cock as it twitched with every beat of his heart. In one fluid motion I stripped away my tights and panties, left them in a forlorn heap next to my heels and rolled back on the bed beside him. My throat felt so tight I could hardly speak as I wrapped my fingers around his thick shaft and started my hand moving slowly up and down him. "Are you ready?" I moaned. "Don't you want me to wear something?" There was a condom in my purse, but what was the point? In the morning I'd surely be a man again and pregnancy would be the least of my problems. I kissed him, stroked his cock a little tighter and just a little bit faster. It felt wonderful and hot in my hand. "Not a problem," I told him, turned onto my back and spread my legs. He kissed my lips, my neck, my chest and then my breasts. His tongue swirled around my nipples, he sucked at them, bit them softly and I cried out, pushing my chest towards his mouth as he pulled away. His hands roamed higher and higher up my thighs, pushing them further apart until the were teasing at the softest skin right at the top and brushing the first of my curls. Then he touched me where I was the hottest and wettest, just a touch, but I almost screamed. "You're so beautifully wet." "I want you inside me." With the strength of a desperate woman, I pulled him on top of me, loved his weight pressing me into the mattress, and felt the wet tip of his cock brushing my inner thigh. He shifted position, started probing me and I bit my lip, edging my hips across to try to meet him. He pushed and missed again so I took matters into my own hands, took hold of him and brushed his cock against my pouting pussy. There! He was lined up, his purple head just engaged between my lips and I moaned low in my throat. Almost, just one push and he'd fill me. He didn't move. I opened my eyes and saw him looking down on me with a quirked smile. "Stop teasing me," I whispered. "Feels lovely like that," he said. "Bastard," I grunted, grabbed one of his bum cheeks in each hand and pulled him down and into me. The feeling was indescribable. I sighed long and hard to feel my new pussy stretched and filled. To have all that pleasure, deep inside my body was wonderful and left my only experience of anal sex far behind. Paul started to pull out, but I shouted, held his ass again to stop him moving. A tear ran down my face. "Have I hurt you?" he said quickly. I shook my head. "No. Don't move." I caressed his cock with muscles I'd never had before, gripping and squeezing him. "Is it okay?" "It's amazing, more than amazing." More tears ran. I lifted my head and kissed him before I started moving my hips. "Really?" "It's my first time," I murmured. "Bethany?" "Now you can move." Maybe it could have been short and quick, but my first time was long and so happily slow. We had lots of kissing and caressing, but his cock never left my pussy until we both became more urgent. Pleasure so intense it was almost pain was building up inside me until with one last push of my hips up to meet him it burst and I screamed. I thought I had wet myself. My vision went black. I clawed his back. I wrapped by legs around his back and squeezed him into me. I made my pussy tighter as though I could hold him inside for ever and then he groaned my name, pushed deep one last time and I felt the insistent pulse of his hot cum pumping into me. *** Some time later, when the room was dark and the hotel was still, I woke in Paul's arms, warm, sleepy and strangely happy. My back was pressed to his front, his soft cock was laid against my bum and he had dribbled a little cum on me there, but I didn't mind. It felt beautifully intimate, and besides I had stood in the en-suite, after we had made love, and watched some trickle lazily down my inner thigh from between the lips that were much redder than they had been before. I had dipped a fingertip into it, tasted salt and smiled to myself. His arms encircled me, one hand cupped a breast, and he was snoring quietly into my ear. So, I closed my eyes and slept some more. *** Then woke when a grey morning's light was filling the room, we had forgotten to close the curtains, to find our positions reversed. My front was to his back, my hand was draped across his cock and I stroked it absently. I stopped breathing, felt my heart begin to race with a numbing panic. How was I going to get Paul out of my bed and out of my room before he knew I was a man. I should have thought of some way to get rid of him much earlier. I couldn't move, but I had to get out of bed and away before he found out who I really was. Gingerly trying to move away without disturbing him or shifting the mattress I felt the tips of my nipples brush his back. I still had breasts! My thighs were still sleek under probing fingertips, my hips still flared from a trim waist and when I edged a hand between us I found my curls, matted a little, but nothing beneath them but for the pussy we had both enjoyed so much last night. I was still a girl. I was happily relieved for about ten seconds. Shit! I was still a girl. So what was it all about? Why had this been done to me if not to let me have a night with a man? Paul shifted and yawned. He rolled over and looked at me staring at the ceiling. "I never woke up with anybody as beautiful as you before?" I viewed him from the corner of my eye. "How many women have you woken up with?" "Three. Including you." I resumed my contemplation of the ceiling. "Are you okay, Bethany?" When I didn't speak I heard him sigh. "Was last night so bad?" Last night had been amazing, but as I lay there feeling the shape of my woman's body I didn't have the means to tell him so, which was unforgivable for I knew that my silence would be interpreted as a yes. He rolled his legs from under the duvet and sat up. At that moment the fact that I struggling with gender paled to insignificance. I couldn't tell him what had happened to me yesterday, couldn't tell him that I was man who had not chosen to be made into a woman, but I could stop a very nice person from leaving my room feeling like shit. Before he could get up I caught hold of him, pressed my chest to his back, wrapped my arms and legs around him and made myself kiss the back of his neck. He tasted wonderfully of sleep and sweat. "Nobody ever made me feel the way you did last night," I said between kisses and I moved my hardening nipples and the swell of my pubic bone against him. His shoulders relaxed and he leaned into my embrace. "Was I really your first?" "Nobody has made love to me like that before." "But you seemed so sad just now." "It's not you." "Richard Blake?" "God no! He's never touched me." "Then what?" My fingers found his cock and I circled them around its softness. "I can't tell you." "Oh." He was quiet a moment, during which his cock began to stiffen in my hand. He let his head rest back against my shoulder and then said, "One day I'd like you to be able to talk to me about anything." Now he was fully hard and I was making long slow motions along its full length, my eyes were closed and I was wondering what the hell was happening to me. How long was this going to last, and if I changed back what would happen then? Would he remember all this sex as some bi-curious fling with Henry from Admin? "I don't know if I'm ready to be anybody's girlfriend just yet," I whispered softly. "Do you mind if I wait until you are?" Paul left me then to go for clean clothes, while I contemplated some of my own. The change from Henry to Bethany had also transformed all my possessions that were in some way gender specific. My shower gel was still Nivea, my current paperback was a Science Fiction thriller, my smart phone hadn't gone pink or anything like that. All the clothes I had brought with me were women's though; I'd already mentioned the skirt draped across the chair where I'd left my jeans, instead of the shoes I'd worn when I'd driven over to the hotel was a pair of flowery flat ballet pumps. Instead of fresh, plain boxers I had a pair of purple lace panties and my spare socks had been morphed into a pale of natural shaded hold-up stockings. I picked them up, ran their gossamer fabric through my fingers and smirked to think of what Richard had said about girls like me not wearing stockings. By the time Paul had come back I was just tying my hair back into a bushy pony tail with that long, clingy skirt swirling around my calves and a creamy, knitted top outlining my breasts. "Can you see my bra through this?" He shook his head. I only had the one, the black number from last night and was strangely proud that I'd managed to fasten it first time. It was weird to be dressing as a woman, to envelop my long legs in that skirt, but I kept telling myself it was the most natural thing in the world for a woman to wear a skirt and I appeared to all the world to be a woman. "How do I look?" "Gorgeous." "I'm starving," I said, slipping my feet into one of those flat pumps. He cleared his throat and inclined his head ever so slightly towards my stilettos of the night before. I raised my eyebrows. He smiled. "I would count it as a personal favour." So I wore the heels again and my feet didn't seem to mind and though the heavy skirt hampered my legs a little it felt good over the sheer stockings and as we approached the restaurant I slipped my hand into his and gave it a little squeeze. "When I'm ready for a boyfriend you'll be the first to know." "Thank you." He gave me a smile. He looked so lovely I wanted to hug him, to drag him back to the room and show him my stockings and anything else he wanted to look at. Last night was last night though - now were just friends. There were a few people we knew from the do last night already having their breakfast. We said out hellos and nodded greetings, ignored the raised eyebrows and surprised looks that greeted our arrival together before sitting at a corner table. I wanted to sit next to him and let my hand rest upon his thigh, it would have been lovely to have slipped off a shoe and stroked his leg with my foot, but all I could think about was how I would be changing back into a man and I couldn't bear the thought of our relationship ending like that. So I kissed him goodbye, waited until I saw his car leaving before I went down and checked out myself. Monday morning came and though I did consider phoning in sick, it was back to work. I had a small house in a new development on the far side of town, and closer to the motorway than I would really have liked, but it was affordable and I had decent neighbours who had waved to me without the slightest puzzlement about my new ideas on clothes. Inside I found a similar situation to that in the hotel room - gender neutral items were the same. Which was good; I wouldn't have wanted my collection of Science Fiction and Fantasy novels to have turned into a load of Chick-Lit, or my music to have softened into boy-bands. However, my wardrobe contained a small collection of dresses and skirts, with only one pair of trousers, hanging above some heels, boots and flats. I had a mixture of plainish, practical underwear and some sexier lingerie, lots of tights, feminine scarves and even a couple of smart hats. The only make up I possessed appeared to be the lipstick I had in my handbag and there were no more earrings than the hoops in my ears. Even the family pictures I had around the house were changed, though only subtly - in most of them I looked androgynous and vaguely blurred. When I got a text from Louise, my big sister, it started with, Hi Sis, how was the big weekend? After I'd got home on the Sunday and finished exploring the changes, I settled onto my sofa, stockinged feet drawn under me and skirt tucked around my legs, staring at the rows of DVDs on a shelf and wondering what the hell I should do. Hardly troubling to eat, I sipped a little water, showered, unpacked, did all the things I needed to do before Monday and then found myself naked in bed thinking of Paul and Richard. I had wanted one and made love to the other; the thought of what we had done made me tingle warmly. My whole life had changed and the only person who knew of it was me. It seemed clear that I was always going to be a woman. Was that so bad? When the Monday morning alarm sounded I had reached a decision, and that act had settled me. I had a good breakfast, showered and sang while I did it. I stood at the wardrobe, pulled out the trousers, studied them a moment before hanging them up. They would not help me. I walked out to the car in a narrow, knee length grey skirt, pale pink blouse and black jacket. My legs looked good in more, sheer natural shaded hold-ups and I clicked along in the same black court shoes Paul had liked so much. My hair was down around my face and after three attempts I had put some lipstick on. It felt rather good and made me look very kissable. As it happened the first person I saw while I was walking from my car was Richard and the double take he did when he realised who he was staring at made the short steps I was having to take in the skirt worthwhile. I said hello. He gawped a moment and then smiled a full on, look-how- gorgeous-I-am smile. "Beth! You look... amazing." Forty eight hours ago had I been recognised by him for anything other than my goalkeeping abilities I would have gone week at the knees. "Thanks." I turned and started for the entrance again. There were a few other people behind us and I was conscious of their eyes on me. He hurried to catch up. "Listen, love. The other night... Sorry, you know." I'd never heard him apologise before. Maybe it was for lifting my dress or for the buxom women he'd been fondling. "It's cool." "Brilliant. Are you still up for the game tonight?" "My kit's in the car. I'm looking forward to it." He dashed in front and held the door open for me. "Awesome. Listen, maybe afterwards, there's this place I know. We could, you know..." I presented my pass to Greg on Reception and waited for him to open the inner doors. I had to turn right and go up the stairs to the next floor, Richard would have to go straight on to his department. A delicious mix of tension and excitement almost made me tremble. He was mine for the taking. "Sorry, I'm busy after the game." His face fell. "Another night perhaps." I shook my head. "That bus has left." He watched me as I went up the stairs and I kept my head high, let him enjoy what he had, perhaps, made of me. He'd probably be thinking I was some kind of stuck up frigid lesbian bitch. I'd be spending some time over lunch researching a women's football team I could play for, I didn't think Richard would want me in his team now I'd turned him down. "Your loss," I heard him call after me. "I'll live with it," I murmured to myself. Mel and Tina were already in the office when I turned in and hung up my jacket. "Beth! When did you turn into a woman!" Mel said, with a shriek of delight at there being something new she could report to her mates in the canteen later on. "Tina, look, she's got legs!" "I've seen them," said Tina smugly - she'd been at Saturday night's do when Mel hadn't. "There's a man isn't there." "A man! An actual man?" "Very funny!" I said, cheeks burning. "I'm wearing a respectable skirt, not hotpants!" "Lipstick and heels," Mel laughed. "I hope he's had a good breakfast this morning, whoever he is, he'll need it!" "Can I tell her who it is?" said Tina. "Please, let me." "She won't settle unless you let her, and I won't let you settle until I know." I sighed. "Of course you can. I just have to go next door, for some Health and Safety business. Your price for telling my secrets will be a cup of tea." They had their heads together like a pair of conspirators as I left them to it, took the few steps to the office next door, knocked politely and put my head inside. There he was, behind his desk in the corner with a mixture of surprise and happiness making his face even better than I'd remembered it. "Can I come in?" He stood so quickly he almost spilled his drink. "You look great," he said. I sat on the edge of his desk and smiled at him. "I've been thinking," I said. "About Saturday night." "Me too! I've hardly thought about anything else." I'd been thinking that the changes in me and my life were too fundamental to be a temporary "enjoy a bit of cock" thing. I was a woman for life and the notion wasn't such a big deal. The clothes were different, heels were awkward, but fun, and expectations were different. I'd even thought that this sex change was an unjust punishment for wanting Richard when it should have happened to him, to highlight his really bad attitude towards women. But being a woman wasn't a punishment; maybe periods wouldn't be fun, there was lots of baggage that came with the gender even in our society, but women were just people. I'd had fun being a girl so far and, most importantly, being Bethany meant I had the opportunity to blatantly fall in love with whichever man I chose to. Taking hold of his tie, I pulled him towards me over his desk and kissed him hard on the mouth. It felt so much better wearing lipstick. I released him a few seconds later and ran my fingers down his cheek. "If you're still looking for a girlfriend..." He answered by way of a dazzling smile and that made everything worth it.