Blackmail Come True Chapter 4 free porn video

Dear Readers, I highly encourage you to read chapters 1-3 before proceeding, that being said, I think this installment is probably still pretty enjoyable even without those. Just to catch everyone up our protagonist Jack McGarrity/Kimberly Leigh Noel is a recently divorced man in his late 20's. His wife asked for a divorce after finding out about Jack's secret obsession with crossdressing. Jack is currently being blackmailed by a "secret admirer" and has already been forced into a number of compromising sexual situations. Thanks for reading! Kisses, Rachel * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * CHAPTER 4 The alarm blared loudly from the cellphone on the nightstand next to my bed. I reached over to turn it off and found that it was rather difficult with my new long nails. I sat up in bed and immediately felt the weight of the breast forms still attached to my chest as I brushed a long strand of blonde hair out of my face. I tugged at the wig; it still wasn't going anywhere. I felt my smooth legs against the cool satin sheets, and brought my hands down the baby pink satin nightie I was wearing, the one he'd somehow placed on the bed for me with a note that read, "You need your beauty rest." I felt the padded panty that was still somehow attached to my skin and put my feet down on the ground looking at my pink toenails. "What the hell have I gotten myself into?" I asked out loud. Shit. My voice. It still very much sounded like a woman's voice. I tried to make it go deeper, but no matter what I did I still sounded distinctly like a woman. And then everything came back to me. I'd started the night before by giving my boss a blow job in his car. Thankfully he didn't know it was me, but now someone, my admirer, was setting me up to make it look like I was blackmailing my boss with videos of the sexual act in question. Then I'd been basically raped by two police officers, before having unbelievably hot sex with a teenage pizza delivery boy. And finally, after discovering that all of my male clothes had been replaced with ridiculously sexy women's clothes, I gave my 75-year-old neighbor from across the street a blow job, and then I think I'd basically agreed to be his mistress. Another alarm on my phone rang. I picked it up and looked at it. This one read, "Introduction to Pole Dance Workout - Downtown Fitness - 9:00am - Don't forget to look pretty." It was 8:00. Apparently, I had an hour to get ready and make it to the gym. I walked into the bathroom and felt something change with both my panties and the wig; it felt like they'd loosened a bit. Thankfully, I found myself able to pull them both off. There was a handwritten note on the mirror that read, "Good girls always sit to use the bathroom! I think you'll look nice as a ginger today." On the counter was a long, red, full-bodied, wavy wig. I pulled my panties off and sat down to use the bathroom. With my wig off, I took a quick shower. It looked weird to see the breast forms still attached to my chest, but with a bald head and without the curves the padded panties had given me. I thought back to the pizza delivery guy from the night before and found myself instantly with the biggest hard- on I had ever had. I felt my breasts with one hand while stroking myself with the other as the hot water streamed down my back. The sound of my feminine voice moaning put me over the edge, I grabbed a narrow shampoo bottle, the first thing I could find, and shoved it up my ass, imagining it was the pizza boy's amazing cock. I moaned louder and louder and pretty quickly came into my hand. I brought my hand up to my mouth immediately and licked up all of the cum. I found myself wondering what time the pizza shop opened and whether he would be working today. My phone rang as I stepped out of the shower, I hurried to grab it. "Two new rules, sweetheart: From now on you will always ask for permission before masterbating and you will always use one of the sex toys in the bottom of the lingerie chest in your closet. Second, you must never be without a wig on for more more than a minute. In the shower, you can wear a shower cap. That is until we find a more permanent solution for your hair. Do you understand, dear?" "Yes, daddy. I understand." "Finally, you'll find a butt plug in your underwear drawer. It vibrates and I have the control. Put that in before you put on today's padded panties. Now hurry along, sweety." I'd just cum, but still somehow the sound of his voice was making me so excited. I felt like I needed to jerk off again, and at the same time I was overcome with a feeling of terror as I again realized that he was somehow capable of seeing my every move. I put down the phone and immediately set to putting on my new red wig and then taking care of my make up, not wanting to find out what would happen if I disobeyed. Something a little lighter seemed appropriate for the gym, I found that I had to adjust my palette with the red hair. I admired my handy work. I was getting better and better at my make-up, all of those hours of watching YouTube tutorials were finally coming in handy. Having done my make-up almost a half dozen times in the past 12 hours, I was getting the hang of using shading to provide more definition, making my nose look smaller, my cheekbones look higher, and my lips look bigger. I finished with some lip gloss and found some large gold clip-on hoop earrings and put those on. I'd never worn a but plug before, so it took me a bit to figure out how to comfortably insert it. I followed that with the padded panty. There was a new padded panty, this one had an incredibly realistic vagina on the front of it. I'd read about these before. They were made to act like a fully functioning vagina, looking and feeling rather anatomically correct, but when a guy slid his cock inside it would end up rubbing against my cock and he would never know. This pair even had some very realistic red pubic hair in the shape of a perfect triangle. Then I went to my closet. Each hanger had a label; The first one read "Wednesday morning workout." So I grabbed that and laid it out on the bed. A pair of skintight black workout pants, with several sheer panels on the calves and thighs. I also found a matching pink sports bra and panties, and then a tight-fitting, pink, spandex pullover top with a half zipper. Then on the floor in the closet a pair of pink tennis shoes that I pulled on over a pair of pink workout socks. Next to the bag was a workout bag that appeared to have a change of clothes inside for after the gym. I pulled my hair back into a ponytail, looked myself over the mirror, and then noticing the time, quickly grabbed my purse and headed out the door. As I was closing the front door, I felt my phone buzz again, I looked down. "Don't forget your medicine." I stepped back inside and ran to the kitchen where I'd left the hormones pills. I grabbed a glass of water and thought to myself, "Bottoms up!" as I tossed all of the pills in my mouth and took a quick swig of water. As I walked up to my car, I saw Mr. Pickett and his wife outside watering their flowers. "Good morning, Kimberly!" he shouted. "Was your brother able to finish fixing that leaky pipe last night?" "Oh, um, yes! Thanks for all of your help with that last night," I yelled back. I saw him look over at his wife, who was glaring at me. When he made sure she wasn't looking at him, he gave me a wink and a grin. I smiled back and stepped in my car. Before the doors closed, I heard him yell, "Tell him I'll stop my later to help him check it out. Make sure it's all set to go." I nodded and smiled and sped off toward the gym. On the way to the gym, I reminded myself that I needed to be five minutes early for all appointments today. I took a second at a stoplight to look through the calendar. 9:00am Pole Dance Workout, 10:30am manicure, pedicure, eyebrows, 1:00pm laser hair removal, 3:00pm plastic surgery consultation 5:30pm hypnosis session. My heart raced as I looked through the list of appointments. I heard a horn blare behind me and looked up to see a green light. Fuck. I thought about everyone in my life who knew nothing about this side of me. How was I going to tell them? When was I going to tell them? What was I going to tell them? I thought about the fact that Greg was supposed to come over to watch the baseball game tonight. I'd need to text him to cancel that until I could figure out what I was even doing. What were my options at this point? Keep going along with this and spend the rest of my life as some sort of owned slut. Refuse to do it and probably lose everything I had and have my secret revealed to the world. Go to the police? Was that an option? He was blackmailing me. He'd broken into my house. He'd hacked all of my bank accounts. How many connections did he have? How much power did he have? For now it seemed like I just had to keep going along until I had the chance to really think it all through. Maybe I should find a way to see a lawyer. He was somehow tracking my every move, was it even possible to get away. I pulled into the gym parking lot without a minute to spare, and walked quickly into the pole dance studio. The addition of the butt plug made me concentrate more on how I walked. I ended up swaying my hips even more that usual, taking smaller steps, putting one foot down in front of the other. In other words, the more I thought about walking the girlier my walking became. Setting my purse and workout bag down, I found a pole, and, noticing that everyone else in the room was wearing just a sports bra, I took my top off. I looked around the room, doing what I imagine most women do in this circumstance, comparing myself to all of the other women in the room. While there were a few absolutely drop-dead gorgeous girls in their early twenties, most of them with long blonde hair, more makeup than you should probably wear to the gym, very nice breasts, and amazingly well-shaped asses, there was also a decent number of women who I assumed were bored housewives. They were slightly overweight and frankly just looked a little overly plain. As I scanned the room, realizing that, as I admired my own reflection in the mirrored studio wall, I was in at least the top quarter of all women here, I nearly fell over when, in mid-stretch, I spotted my ex- wife, Jocelyn. Jocelyn was, admittedly one of the most beautiful woman I had ever met, and I had always felt like I was way out of my league when I was with her. Even on our wedding day, I felt like she would look at me at the altar and come to the realization she was way too good for me. She was wearing purple spandex shorts that showed off her perfectly shaped ass and a matching sports bra that exposed her impressively toned abs leading up to her pert and perfectly proportioned C-cup breasts. Her thick, mahogany brown hair fell down to the middle of her back, as the light sparkled through her hazel eyes. She actually looked like she was somehow in even better shape than she had been when I saw her two months earlier at our final divorce hearing. We actually hadn't talked since then. One thing that has always frustrated me when we were together was that she didn't take advantage of the fact that she was an amazingly beautiful woman very often. She rarely wore high heels or short skirts or nylons, in other words all of the things I wished I could wear regularly, and I complained about it often to her. She always stubbornly refused and asked if I understood how much of an inconvenience it was to wear those things. This response of course just frustrated me even more. She knew, even before she knew about my dressing, that I had a nylons and heels fetish, but she never did anything to play into it. Sometimes I wondered if the fact that she never wore these things drove me to wanting to wear them even more. I had sometimes wondered if I had a wife who dressed more provocatively, if I would even feel the need to dress the way I did when she was gone. Our eyes met for a second and I could see her give me a skeptical once over before looking away. She knew about my dressing of course, I mean that is why we got a divorce, but there was no way she would ever think, this curvy girl with red hair and green eyes was her ex-husband, was there? For the moment, I was just glad to be across the room from her and decided I would just do my best to avoid eye contact. The class was co-taught. There was a female instructor, Mindy, who looked like she probably had more than a bit of experience on a stripper pole. She was petite, but with massive, and probably fake breasts that strained against her bright pink sports bra. She had a nearly flawless ass that was emphasized by the matching pink spandex hot pants she was wearing. Surprisingly, instead of tennis shoes, like everyone else in the room was wearing, she had on a pair of pink heels that actually seemed to match the rest of her outfit. Her long white blonde hair, was pulled back in a ponytail that swayed from side to side along with her hips as she walked out. I looked at her the same way every other woman in the class seemed to be eyeing here, with nothing but intense jealousy. The other instructor, was a hulking man who looked like he could have been in the movie Magic Mike. His name was Jonathan. He was easily 6'5" with broad shoulders, close cropped dark hair and the perfect amount of stubble. His broad shoulders led down to a pair of rippling biceps that seemed to shine under the lights of the dance studio. As I stared at his pecs under the tiny tank top he wore, I felt a vibration in my ass and let out a slight moan. The woman next to me looked over at me and smiled with a wink as she looked back toward Jonathan. I took a deep breath in as the butt plug continued to vibrate, I bit my lip and ran a hand back through my hair. I closed my eyes for a second and imagined what it would be like to run my hand over his hard chest and abs as he held me in his arms and kissed me. I imagined what it would be like to feel him inside of me, wishing for the moment that I had a real vagina and real breasts so that I could feel him suck on my nipples as his cock, which I had to imagine was very impressive, entered me. Both of us moaning each other's names as I rode his cock. The vibrating stopped suddenly, and I opened my eyes to realize a few people were now staring at me, including as I looked across the room, my wife. I smiled a nervous smile and then looked down as I walked closer to the nearest pole. As the class began, I eventually got swept into the workout concentrating on the different moves we were being taught and somehow completely forgot that I was a man who was being blackmailed, and that if I kept on going at this rate I wouldn't really be a man for much longer, if I even was at this point. It seemed like every time Jonathan came near my my butt plug would start to vibrate, which did make me wonder if my admirer could see me and if so, how close was he? It took every bit of concentration and willpower for me to not completely lose it when, at one point in the class, Jonathan came over and placed his hands on my hips as he stood behind me, to show me how to loosen my hips as I slinked up and down the pole. As he walked away, he looked back toward me, "Hey, you're Kimberly, right?" "Um, yeah," I found myself squeaking. "You're signed up for a private session with me after this, right?" "Oh, yeah, like I almost forgot," I replied. "Great. Can't wait," he said with a wink, and as he did the butt plug vibrated rhythmically with a different level of intensity. I caught the two women closest to me looking at me with a bit of jealousy. I was pretty sure I caught one of them even staring at my ass for a second. The rest of the class was a blur and my entire body ached as it finished. As I packed up my bag, Jonathan walked back toward me. From across the room I saw Meghan staring at me again, this time much more intently, I was happy when Jonathan stopped in just the right position to block her view. "So, are you ready for this, hun?" "Oh yeah, of course," I replied. "Here or like somewhere else?" "There's a smaller, private, personal training room just around the corner. I have us all set up in there." I found myself staring at his perfect ass as we walked down the hall, thinking about how much I wanted to grab it in both hands as I sucked his cock. Once again, the butt plug started to vibrate. When we got to the room, there was a large chair, another stripper pole, a garment bag hanging from the wall, and a bulking gym bag in the corner. "In your email, you said that you're interested in dancing for real, like maybe even professionally. And watching you in class today, I would say you definitely have the potential for it." "Oh, um, thanks!" I said with a big smile wondering what email he was referencing and what else it said. "If this is something you're really interested in, I could definitely get you an audition with a little bit more work." "Oh wow, yeah, like that would be totally great," I said as I flipped my hair to the side. "The thing is, the way to make the most money, and the most important part of your audition, will be the lapdance. So I thought we could work a little on that today." Oh my god, was he asking me to give him a lapdance, I thought to myself. "Yeah, that makes sense," I said trying to sound totally calm. "Have you ever given someone a lapdance before?" he asked. "No," I said sheepishly. "Listen when it is just the two of us, I need you to look the part. In the future, bring your own outfits, but for today I've brought one for you." he pointed to the garment bag and the gym bag underneath it. I went over and unzipped it to find a purple mesh and lace mini dress, black stockings, and black stockings. The dress was long-sleeved, with a deep v- neck and the mesh and lace pattern made it basically see through and it came to just above the middle of my thigh or basically right where the lacy top of the stockings would stop. In the bag below was an assortment of high- heeled platform shoes. I found a pair of 6" clear, plastic pumps in my size. I stripped with my back to him, not knowing how much he actually knew of my real identity. I slid the dress slowly over my head, it hugged every inch of every curve on my body. Bending over, I pulled up the cheap thigh high stockings. Even if they were dollar store stockings, the feeling of them enveloping my freshly shaven legs was still so intoxicating. Finally, as I stepped into the heels, I turned around and found Jonathan seated in the chair in the center of the room. He looked me up and down, nodding his head with some approval. "The first thing you must practice is how to approach the man. You want him to feel enticed as you walk toward him. Show me your sexiest walk." I concentrated, putting one foot directly in front of the others, swaying my hips, rubbing my hands under my breasts. I bit my lower lip and did my best to flash him my most seductive look. "Stop, stop, stop," he said quietly. "You need to loosen up, you are too stiff. It's like you're imagining what it's like to be in a porn or something. I need you to be more natural. Be yourself." I stepped back, this time he turned on some music. It was "Do You Want to Touch Me" by Joan Jett. I still swayed my hips wildly, but I tried to relax them, I took my finger to my mouth and smiled as I walked toward him, my entire body swaying slightly to the music as I gazed directly into his eyes. "Much, much better," he said. "Now, the next part of the lap dance is what we call the mount. How will you situate yourself on top of your client so that ideal you get to a point where you are straddling him?" I took a deep breath and gulped as I looked him up and down one more time. As he hit play on his phone hooked up to the room's speakers, I felt the now familiar vibration inside my ass. My breathing increased as I took another seductive step toward him. As I got closer, I started to bend forward, putting my hands on his shoulders. I lifted up one leg and rested it across his lap as I ran my hand down the front of his body, trying to keep my composure as I felt his hard pecs and abs and as the butt plug continued to vibrate inside of me. Putting my hands back on his shoulder, I lifted my other leg up and slid myself forward so that I was straddling him. I arched my back and ran my hands back down his chest as I did. "Wow, um, you're doing quite well for a beginner," he said. I could hear his breathing increase and more importantly I could feel his cock stirring in his shorts. "Thanks," I purred, as I leaned forward and started to blow gently into his ear. "Now, um, keep in mind, in most clubs you don't want to go to far with the, um, client. You don't want to kiss them or make any actual contact with your lips. If you do they'll, um, usually take that as a sign that, um, they can take it a step further. And that, well, that's just not allowed in most clubs." I started to twist my body so slowly so that I turned around. My back now facing him, my legs were still spread wide so that my thighs lay on top of his thighs, but his knees were inside. I arched my back again so that my long red hair fell back toward his neck and shoulder. I could feel his hard cock against my supple ass. I started to grind against it. "Um, that is like maybe a little farther than you, um, usually want to take it." I never would have imagined being able to seduce a man like Jonathan, but right now I felt an immense sense of power. I spun back around, pushing my body closer to his, still grinding against his hard cock. I leaned forward and this time decided to lick the top of his left ear. "Uh, okay, hey, listen, didn't I say... oh fuck it," he said as he grabbed my hips, sliding his hands under my dress. "I'll just have to show you what happens when you take it too far." With one hand still on my hips, he used the other to slide down his shorts, exposing his incredibly impressive and very hard cock. Then I felt him pulling my panties down, and even in the midst of being incredibly turned on, I couldn't help but wonder if he would be able to tell that my vagina was fake. My butt plug seemed to vibrate longer and harder as he effortlessly lifted me up and brought me down so that his cock entered my pussy. I could feel his cock slide along my own even through the prosthetic, which seemed to even have some sort of self-lubricating system. I let out a long moan spreading my legs as far as they would go and leaning forward to kiss him. He kissed back and thrust forward. If he could tell it was a fake, he certainly didn't seem to mind. In the low light, looking in the mirror on the wall across the room, it looked like an incredibly attractive woman being absolutely ravished by an incredibly strong, handsome man. My hips thrust in time with his, as my nails dug into his back. "Oh fuck yes, you are one tight little fucking whore," he moaned. I found myself speechless as I continued to moan louder and louder. He reached down to turn up the music to cover the sound of our mutual pleasure. His massive and strong hands slid down to my thighs, gripping them at the top of my stockings as he pulled me forward, his tongue searching my mouth. He pulled me into him, thrusting his cock harder and faster as he tightened his grip. "Oh Jonathan, oh god yes, fuck me," I screamed as he smiled up at me. I could feel him tensing, and then suddenly he let out a long, low moan, and I felt his cum fill me, spraying inside of me. I started to cum uncontrollably at that same moment, the butt plug vibrating intensely, I could feel warm cum oozing from my cock trapped inside this prosthetic, mixing with his cum. He pulled me toward him one last time, kissing me, deeply as he lifted me off of him and stood up. "Okay, um, well then," he said clearly out of breath, "I have another client in 10 minutes, but um, it looks like you're signed up for this same time tomorrow. We should both, um, really clean up, but I'll, um, see you then. There's a card for the club I work at in the bag down there. You should come in and visit sometime." And just like that he opened the door and left the room. I lay back down on the chair in a heap, trying to collect myself and my breath. As I sat there I could feel the cum dripping from inside of me. I got up and looked at my phone, it was 10:15 and I had an appointment at the nail salon next door in 15 minutes. Shit. I grabbed myself and ran to the locker room, finding the most secluded area I could, I wrapped myself in a towel and took the world's shortest shower. I dried myself off and touched up my make up as quickly as possible, finding a fresh black lace bra and panty set in my gym bag along with a pair of tan, suede ankle booties with a four inch heel and a simple denim shirt dress that buttoned up the front. "Nice dress," the woman across from me commented, as I finished buttoning the last button at the top of the dress, leaving two undone so you could see the top of the black lace bra underneath. "Ooh, and I love those shoes!" "Thanks," I said with a smile, looking up to realize that it was Jocelyn next to me, standing there with a towel wrapped around her chest. She stared straight into my eyes again, even more intensely, and just as she was about to open her mouth to say something I said, "Well, I have to get to another appointment. Have a great day!" And walked out of the locker room. With no time to spare, I walked as quickly as I could outside the gym and around the corner to the nail salon, walking in the door at precisely 10:25. An incredibly beautiful young Asian woman checked me in (it turned out everything was already paid for and in my name, again, and apparently I'd already picked the colors and styles). She did not speak much as she went to work after handing me a glass of sparkling water with cucumber and lime. She smoothed every inch of my feet before painting my toenails a nice soft peach. Then she moved onto my hands, where she first applied much higher quality false nails that I was used to. She said that they could last up to a month if I took care of them. She matched the color on my toes but added a white lace pattern at the tips. They were by far the longest nails I had ever had and I wondered how difficult they were going to make the rest of my day or month for that matter. Finally, while my nails were drying she started to thread my eyebrows. As she finished, she held up a mirror. "You like?" she asked. I reached a hand up to run a finger along the now very defined high arch of my much thinner eyebrows. "They're beautiful," I said. And I was right, they were beautifully feminine eyebrows perfect for a woman's face. Perfect for my face. I felt so relaxed and pampered in the moment. She'd been massaging my hands and feet and arms and legs the entire time, taking her time at everything. I got up to leave and she complimented me on my shoes, asking me where I got them. I told her they were a gift from my boyfriend, which I guess wasn't all that far from the truth. The rest of the afternoon was kind of a blur, I grabbed a quick lunch before heading to the office of an aesthetician, where, without thinking much about it, I started a very aggressive treatment of laser hair removal. They pretty much started treatment on my whole body: my face, my arms, my torso, my back, my legs. It ended up taking so long that they brought in the doctor who was supposed to do my plastic surgery consultation (his office was affiliated with this clinic) and he ran through the necessary procedures to achieve the look I had apparently emailed him about: breast implants (of course), nose reduction, some work with the cheeks and the chin, hair implants to fix my hairline and make it all a bit thicker, and the Adam's apple scraping, which he said he might have to bring in an ears, nose, throat guy for. By the time everything was finished I had scheduled follow up appointments with everyone later in the week and just enough time to make it to my hypnosis appointment, which was the one I was most curious about. I spent about 10 minutes in a posh waiting room before being brought back to the office of Dr. Sanders. He was an older British gentleman with a wispy white goatee and thinning white hair. He had me lay back on a lounge chair and close my eyes as I listened to the relaxing sound of his voice. The next thing I remember hearing at that point was the sound of a bell, at which point I sat up feeling more relaxed and recharged than I have ever felt in my entire life. "Now," the doctor said, "tell me dear, what is your full name?" My brain went blank as I tried to open my mouth. There was a name on the tip of my tongue, but it felt like someone had locked a door to the part of my brain that contained it. I stammered for a second, unable to come up with anything, giving the doctor a quizzical look. "One more time," he said. And this time he rang a different bell before asking me, "What is your full name?" "My full name is Kimberly Leigh Noel," I said. It came out very naturally and very fluidly, but the problem was that was not what I had meant to say. I focused for a moment thinking of my actual name and then opened my mouth again, "My name is Kimberly Leigh Noel... my name is Kim..." "Is something the matter my dear?" "Doctor, that's not my name. Why am I saying that?" "What do you mean, my dear?" "What have you done to me, Dr. Sanders?" "I've done exactly what your email instructed, Ms. Noel." When he said Ms. Noel a feeling of warmth spread across my body and I smiled uncontrollably, as I felt the butt plug vibrate inside of me once again. "Now Kimberly, I believe I will see you again tomorrow." Again, when I heard my name I was overcome with a tremendous feeling of joy and once again the butt plug vibrated. "Um, yes, doctor. Of course," I said, standing up. As I looked over at him, I could have sworn I noticed my lipstick smudged along his neck near the collar of his skirt. When I looked down at the trash can near the door, I saw a used condom. "Kimberly, dear," he called again, the pleasure in hearing my name feeling almost sexual at this point, "don't forget to validate your parking on the way out." During the entire drive home, I felt like I was in a fog. I replayed the day. I'd started by taking a stripper workout class with my ex-wife, after which I had sex with the male instructor during a private lesson. I'd had a manicure and pedicure before being given a set of perfectly feminine eyebrows, and then started on a path toward the permanent removal of all of my body hair and plastic surgery that would make me irreversibly become a woman. That was all before some quack hypnotist somehow made me forget my real name, while programming me to respond to the name Kimberly Leigh Noel, which also happened to be the name on the fake ID in my purse. When I got home it was already nearly eight. I ran up the stairs to use the bathroom, when I walked out, I found on the bed a new outfit and a note that said, "Put this on and get your best evening make up together. You may have forgotten, but you have a date, Kimberly." I had no idea what he was talking about, but at this point in the day, I wasn't about to questions any orders. There was a long-sleeved shift dress on the bed. It was a champagne colored silk with bell sleeves that looked like it would come to about my mid-thigh, paired with it were nude, lace bra and panty and a pair of sheer, nude pantyhose. I sat down in the bathroom with a robe on, brushing out and flat ironing my red hair, before starting on my make-up that centered around a dramatic, smoky eye and some light pink lipstick. My feet and legs were smoother than ever, so the feeling of pulling up the sheer pantyhose was practically electric. I pulled the dress over my head and felt it slide over my body, hugging every curve as it slinked down. The feeling of the silk against my freshly smoothed skin was absolutely electric. I sat down and pulled up the pantyhose. Once again they were Woolford and I felt like I might have an orgasm just pulling them slowly up my leg. A little out of breath, I stepped into a pair of black suede heels and wrapped a white and pink silk scarf around my neck and looked in the mirror. I adjusted my hair slightly with my fingers, as I stopped and looked myself up and down again, the hourglass figure underneath this perfect silk dress, the smooth and toned legs, my calves perfectly shaped by the 4" heels, perfectly and luxuriously soft from the pantyhose, I struggled to even comprehend the fact that I was looking back at my own reflection, Suddenly the doorbell rang. I looked out the bedroom window toward the driveway. Shit. It was Greg's car. We were supposed to watch the baseball game tonight. I'd forgotten to text him to cancel. I couldn't let him see me like this. How could I possibly explain this. Right then the phone in my purse on the bed vibrated. I pulled it out. It was my admirer, "Answer the door. Now. Tell him the truth." I closed my eyes and let out a deep sigh. What was I going to tell him? Greg and I had been friends since college. He was the best man at my wedding. He'd been there for me through the divorce. He'd always been there for me. He was also very attractive and on more than a couple of occasions while dressed I'd masturbated to thoughts of him catching me dressed and making me suck his cock. Shit. I slowly walked downstairs as he rang the doorbell again. I caught my reflection in the mirror above the table next to the front door. He might not even believe me when I told him it was me. The fact that the voice spray was still doing its trick wasn't going to help matters. I gathered myself, took a deep breath in and out, checked my hair and makeup in the mirror, and then opened the door. "Uh... oh shit, does Jack have company tonight. I mean... um, is Jack around?" I could see him trying to look me up and down without me noticing, but Greg was a legs and ass kind of guy, and he never had been able to help himself. "Come inside," I said in a voice that sounded about ten times sexier than I had meant for it to. He walked in and I closed the door. "Did something happen to Jack or something? Are you his sister or something, I mean you look kind of like him." Again, I caught him staring down at my legs and my ass, this time it actually made me blush a little bit. "Greg," I started to say and I could see a look of confusion spread across his face, "It's me. It's me... shit... Greg... It's me." "Um, okay...and who exactly are you?" "Greg, it's me J...." I was almost able to get it out, and I was at least able to stop myself before saying Kimberly Leigh Noel. "Greg, I don't know what has happened, but I can't even say my name anymore. It's me your best friend. You were my best man. I was with you that time when we got arrested for peeing in the back alley of that bar in New Orleans, remember." "Jack, wait... what the fuck? Is this some kind of joke? Seriously lady, what is your name?" "My name is Kimberly Leigh Noel," I found myself saying in the same almost robotic tone I'd said it earlier at the hypnotist. "Fuck. No. Greg, listen it is really me, but let's just go for a ride" I said looking around the house for cameras and microphones, "and I'll tell you the whole story." I grabbed my purse and started to head out the door. Greg looked confused and dazed, but he followed behind. I caught him again staring at my ass and then shaking his head and looking away. We got in his car and I told him to just drive wherever and listen. Again, I could feel him staring at my legs in the car as I told the entire story. I didn't leave out any details and as I finished he pulled into the parking lot of a McDonald's. "Wait, so like... you kind of like this then?" "I don't know. I mean I don't feel like I have a choice anymore. Yes, there is a side of me that has always fantasized about this and I am sorry I never told you, but right now, hearing myself retell this story, I am just really, really scared and want it all to end to be honest. While I've thought about how it would be fun to try being a woman, I never thought it would really happen and certainly not like this." The last bit was a little bit of a lie, although now that I was living out one of my biggest fantasies, I was starting to realize that it might not be all it was cracked up to be. "Don't be sorry, dude... God it is weird to call you dude... well, anyway. I mean, I don't think I'd tell you if I was keeping that secret. I get it. Man, we have to go to the cops. I get that this guy is scary, but they have to be able to stop him. I think it's your only play, man." I just sat there shaking my head and looking out the window. He was right. The only way I could put a stop to this and get my life back was to go to the cops. It seemed impossible before, but now here with him, it seemed like it just might work. "You're right." "Well, do you want me to take you there now? I mean, I can verify your story, or at the very least your identity." "Really? You'd do that for me?" I suddenly hated how helpless I sounded and how helpless I probably looked. I could see the bulge in Greg's pants. As much as I wanted to go to the police, I also found myself suddenly wanting to take out his cock and suck it until I begged him to fuck me. "Of course," he said, "That's what friends are for." And then as he smiled at me, he awkwardly placed a hand on my thigh before immediately picking it up. "Oh, um, sorry man." It took every ounce of willpower that I had not to place his hand back on my thigh, not to slide over and climb on top of him, straddling him, pulling out his cock and kissing him while he lifted me up and thrusted his cock inside of me. We drove to the closest police precinct in silence. I started to get my story together. I was being blackmailed by someone with access to all of my accounts who lived next door to me. I didn't know what he looked like or who he was, in fact I didn't have any details about him at all. But surely, given all of the things he had bought and had installed in my house, and his access to the house next door, they could follow a paper trail back to him. We got to the police station and Greg walked me in and sat with me in an interview room as a detective took down my statement. He had to tell them my full name, which was again so humiliating. It took me almost an hour to give them every last detail. The detective would get up and leave the room every so often, sharing details with other officers. I could see they were taking this very seriously as several people seemed to be working on the leads I had given them. When I finished, it took another half hour to read through my statement and sign it. Oddly enough, I found that I was still able to write my name. The officer, who I had also noticed staring my legs up and down throughout the interview, asked me to wait for a bit. They wanted me to stay there for the time being. Greg said he had to go home to take care of some stuff, but that he would come back in an hour to pick me up. I drank a Diet Coke from the vending machine and ate a granola bar and some chips. I kept expecting my phone to ring or for some tall dark man to show up and take me away without anyone ever stopping him, but that never happened. An hour passed and Greg came back and sat with me again. He'd offered to bring me other clothes, but I told him I was fine and that all of my male clothes were gone anyway. When he offered to bring me some of his own clothes, I again declined. He gave me a weird look when I said this, but I didn't know how to explain how I felt at the moment. I felt oddly comfortable in exactly what I was wearing, which made me wonder if going to the police was even the right call. Another hour passed, now it was past midnight when two detectives came back into the interview room with a stack full of papers. "Listen, miss or, um, sir, or whatever, why don't you take a seat." I'd been pacing nervously for the last half hour, so I sat back down, crossing my legs slowly as I did, finding myself unable to keep from exhibiting certain ultra feminine habits, something I was sure I had Dr. Sanders to thank for. "We've had a half dozen of our guys combing through all sorts of records and bills and cell phone records and everything else for the last hour, so before we get to this, is there anything else. Anything at all you'd like to tell us?" "No," I said suddenly feeling even more nervous based on the expressions on their faces, "I've told you everything." "Well ma'am, I mean sir... fuck, seriously, listen I'm just going to call you ma'am okay. Ma'am, here is the deal. The house next door, the one you say some sinister man is living in and blackmailing you from. We went there. There was no sign of anyone there in the last six months. But six months ago according to real estate transactions, guess who bought that house?" "I don't know," I said, confused. "Who?" "Is this your signature, ma'am?" the detective asked sliding a blown up photocopy of my signature in front of me. "Yes." "Well, then ma'am, you are the owner of the house next to the one you are renting." "What?!?!?" my mouth opened, my jaw went slack, my face went blank and white, as Greg stared over at me. "The new locks on your house, the burner cell phones, all the new clothes, and everything else, all paid for with credit cards in your name, all order from computers with the same IP address as your computer." "This can't be," I blurted out as I could feel tears filling my eyes. "All of the phone calls and text messages you've received were placed using Google Voice from an account created using the computer at your IP address and all of the texts and calls can be traced back to the same IP address. We even have the pizza order that was placed from your computer last night and that specifically requests the young pizza delivery boy who you say you felt like you were forced to have sex with. He's 17 by the way." The other officer pulled out a tape recorder and pressed play on it. I could suddenly hear my own masculine voice asking for an appointment for a plastic surgery consultation. "Is that your actual voice?" I nodded now, as tears started to stream down my face. "All of the appointments today were made from the phone and computer inside your house and were all paid for using the same credit card that is in your name and that has been in your name for eight years. According to one of those doctors we talked to, he's been prescribing you hormone pills for over a year." I just sat there in stunned silence. Was I losing my mind? Had I done all of this to myself? Or was this how complex and far-reaching the power of my admirer was? "Additionally," said one of the officers, "while combing through your email, which I want to remind you you gave us permission to do, we found evidence of your attempts to blackmail your boss with a video of him propositioning a woman for sexual favors. The thing is when we looked closer at the video we realized you are also the woman in the video." This was a detail I had conveniently left out in my official police report. "Listen, ma'am," the other office said, "At this point, we could easily charge you with several counts of making false statements to police and potentially even credit card fraud, blackmail, statutory rape, and prostitution, but it seems like you, um, well, it seems like you're dealing with a lot of shit here. We're going to keep a close eye on you and we're going to leave you with the names of some counselors we think you should consider seeing, okay? Listen, if you don't seek some sort of counseling, there's a good chance the DA might decide to prosecute on at least a couple of these charges." I just nodded, as I held my head in my hands, feeling utterly humiliated and emasculated. They handed me a folder with the contact information they had promised. Both detectives stood, while one left the room, the other stayed behind for a moment. "If you need anything at all, ma'am, you just give me a call," he said, and I swear as he said it he gave me a quick wink. "Otherwise, I'll be stopping by tomorrow evening during my shift to check in on you, okay?" Again, I just nodded silently, as I wiped the tears out of my eyes. As the other officer left the room, I stood up and walked toward the door. I could hear Greg following behind me and the sound of my own high heels echoing down the tiled hallway. I walked out without saying a word, barely even noticing the fact that almost every single policemen and even a few policewomen were checking me out as I walked out of the station. "So, um, I'll drive you home," Greg said awkwardly as we stepped outside. Again, I just nodded my head silently and walked toward his car. I stayed silent the whole way home. He walked me inside and sat down on the couch next to me. When he placed a hand on my shoulder, I found myself bursting into tears and placing my head on his shoulder. "It's okay," he said as he patted my back. "Do you believe me?" I said sitting up for a second. "Of course, I do. I mean the way you described this guy, who knows what he is capable of." Again, I burst into tears, this time just grateful for Greg's support, for anyone's support in that moment. I leaned forward and hugged him again. This time he held on a little tighter and I could feel his hand heading down my back. "So what's with the name Kimberly, though?" When he said the name, that same feeling spread across my body and the butt plug, which I had completely forgotten about began to vibrate again. I found myself leaning into him, my lips between his neck and his ear, I suddenly had the urge to kiss him, so I did. "Jack... um.. . what are you doing?" I kissed up his neck toward his ear and then started to nibble on his lower ear lobe. I felt his hand venture down toward my ass and then slide up over my thigh. "Say my name again," I whispered in his ear. "Jack?" "No, the other one." "Kimberly?" I let out a long moan at the sound of my name, as I pulled myself onto his lap so that I was straddling him. I placed his hands on my thighs and leaned in to kiss him. He pulled back. "Jack, what the fuck, man?" "I saw you looking at me earlier, Greg," I said in a sexy whisper, watching his face turn red. "Regardless of everything else, it has been a really long day and you know all about this side of me now." I started thrusting against the outline of his hard cock in his pants. Without a word, he pulled me into him and started to kiss me, passionately on the lips, as I felt his large strong hands rub up and down my thighs toward my ass. I slid my own hand down the front of his chest and unzipped his pants letting his hard cock free. I took in my hand between us, arching my back and smiling at him as I continued stroking it. "Wait, so, were the cops right? Are you doing this all to yourself?" "No, I mean... I don't think so," I thought for a while, my hand still on his cock, his hands on my ass. "No, definitely not, which means I think I might be stuck like this and I think something very bad might happen next, because he is more powerful than I ever imagined. So I might as well make the best of it." With that I started to kiss him again. I felt his cock get even harder in my hand as his hands explored my perfectly round ass. I put my hands up around his neck and started to grind against his hard cock in between us. It was even more impressive than I remembered from the couple of times I'd had a peak at the gym. "I want you to fuck me in my bed," I whispered in his ear. "Seriously?" he moaned, looking up at me. I just nodded and stood up, taking his hand. I walked him up the stairs, he pressed me against the wall outside my room kissing my neck and kneading his hands into my breasts. His other hand worked its way under my dress and he started to pull down my nylons. As he slid his hand inside my panties he pulled back and looked up at me. "What the fuck?" "It's not real," I said, out of breath. "It's like a really high quality prosthetic or something." "Shit, well that actually makes this a whole lot less awkward. You ready for this Kim?" He smiled as my new name left his lips. The butt plug vibrated again, which made me think he must be able to see me and he must approve and maybe I wasn't in as much trouble as I thought. I kicked off my shoes as we entered the room and lifted my dress over my head. He ripped my bra off and started to suck on my nipples. "You said he replaced all of your clothes with like sexy lingerie and stuff, right?" I nodded. "Put something sexy on for me, Kimmy. Some stockings for sure." I smiled and walked into the closet and pulled on a pair of pink stockings and found a pink babydoll nightie with a frilly, lace-trimmed hem and spaghetti straps. When I came out, Greg was laying on the bed, naked, stroking not his cock. "Mmmmmmmmhhhhhh," he moaned with a big grin. "You know I always kind of wondered about you, so this sort of makes sense. Granted I never thought I'd want to fuck you this much." I just smiled back. I'd dreamed of this moment dozens of times since Greg and I became friends. "That time you dressed like a cheerleader for Halloween in college makes so much more sense now," he said as he grabbed both of my hands and pulled me on top of him. "I practically wanted to fuck you that night." As he slid his cock inside of me he let out a long moan, "Oh fuck, it feels as good as it looks. Listen you won't tell Cynthia about this right?" "Of course not, sweety," I cooed as I thrust my hips in time with his, bending down to kiss his lips. It all felt like I was playing a part, the words leaving my mouth felt foreign, the subtly feminine actions felt as unnatural as the looked natural, but if I stopped to reflect, I realized I didn't care. He held me tight as my nails dug into his back. I wanted him so badly, wanted to please him, wanted to be his, wanted him to want me. I arched my back and moaned, "Oh Greg, fuck me," I moaned louder and louder. The whole bed was rocking now as he turned me over and got on top, thrusting his cock inside of me harder and harder, the butt plug inside of me vibrating violently. "Oh Kimberly, yes baby," he yelled and again the sound of my name felt like it was almost going to bring me to an orgasm. Finally, both of us sweating, our bodies pressed impossibly close to one another, I felt him tense as he grasped my hips and thrust harder and faster, his cum suddenly bursting inside of me. "Oh Kim," he moaned one more time and that was enough to put me over the edge, my hips thrust wildly one more time as I climaxed moaning so loudly I practically screamed. We lay there in bed for a while, he held one hand over my breasts as he kissed the back of my neck. "Shit that was so fucking good," he whispered in my ear. "I just fucked my best friend who used to be a guy, or who still is kind of a guy and I don't even care because it was so fucking good and because he or she or whatever. .. fuck it, you are so fucking hot." "Thanks," I said softly, still out of breath. "You're pretty hot yourself," I said as I reached back and caressed his wet cock, turning over then to kiss him, loving the fact that he grabbed my ass as we kissed. "No matter what happens," he said looking in my eyes, "promise me we can do this again." "I promise," I said and kissed him again. "Fuck," he said looking at the clock. "I have to get home." I watched him dress and walked him downstairs to the front door, kissing him once more watching him pull out of the driveway. I stood with my back against the door for a moment when suddenly I heard my phone ring. Fuck, I thought, what now? "Kimberly," it was him. "You've been a very, very naughty girl. I try to hook you up with your best friend who you've had a crush on for ages and you thank me by going to the police." "I am so sorry, Daddy." "Shut the fuck up, bitch. Listen, obviously you know how absolutely fucked you are now, but the problem is now they are watching you, which means they are also, for all intents and purposes, watching me more closely." I wasn't sure if I knew exactly what he meant, but I continued to listen silently. "That's okay though, I was prepared for this, it simply means we need to move up the time table a bit. Now go to your refrigerator." I padded to the refrigerator in my stocking feet, cum still dripping down my thigh. "You'll find a metal canister and a syringe." I saw them both and pulled them out and set them on the counter. "You have two choices. The first, drink the contents of the canister and inject yourself with the syringe in your right thigh. There will be no going back after this, but all of the dreams you've ever had, at least the ones I'm interested in, will come true. The second, stop right now and things stay as they are, I'll even have your male clothes returned to you. Granted, you've tried to blackmail your boss, your neighbor across the street thinks you're his mistress, and the police could arrest you for a number of things at any moment, but your best friend might eventually consider leaving his wife for you. If you make the second choice, I will also leave $10,000 extra in your bank account for your troubles." I stood there staring at the canister and the syringe, replaying the past 48 hours in my head. How the fuck did I get here? Where would all of this lead? If if I stopped now, could things ever even go back to normal anyway? "Kimberly?" "Yes, Daddy." "I need your decision, now." To be continued... * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Please leave a review and feel free to send comments or questions to [email protected] Kisses** Rachel