Four Days In October free porn video

INTRODUCTION My wife said to thank all of you who commented on my first story. I wasn't permitted to read the remarks, but she did say they were mostly positive. She said as well as the thoughts about the story, there were also suggestions, and she appreciated them all. However, she wanted me to particularly mention the thoughtful advice from 'Rowena'; and I've been instructed to thank you, too. As I understand it, my trip to the salon would have been vastly different without your input (probably easier for me), and the rules of my period have also changed drastically, amongst other things. So, thank you, Miss Rowena. This, like my first story, is stand-alone; however, there is some continuity between the characters as a lot of it is based on my life. Like before there is a mixture of truth and fantasy. So, if you have not read my first story, it might be worth doing so before you begin here. Either way, I hope you all enjoy this one. Please leave your comments for my wife, and I'm sure I'll hear all about them. Thanks. ONE MONDAY --- A SPORTING CHANCE When I woke on Monday morning, rubbing sleep from my eyes, I noticed several clear bags tucked into the corner of the bedroom. Didn't think much of them. I snuggled with my wife for a few minutes and then tenderness turned to powerful love-making. As I slide inside her I'm so thankful that even though she considers me her wife, she still welcomes me. My manhood. However small. It's obvious from my fast eruption of pleasure that I get more from it than her. Spent, I slowly withdraw, kissing her. I'm about to climb off and clean myself up when she takes a hold of me. "Not so fast, Kirsten. You had your fun, now I'd like you to finish me off." I consider the cum dribbling from her. "But it'll be a mess down there." "All the more for you to enjoy." She thrusts her hips up and pushes my head gently down. I resist at first, but then hesitantly lick. I find a taste for the cum and female juices and hungrily devour her. Maggie reaches her own climax, crying out, my face buried deep between her legs, my tongue exploring her. Panting, she finally released me. "Did you enjoy it?" she asked. I don't want to admit it, but- "Yes." I go down again and clean up any remaining mess. Finished and cuddling I ask her about the bags. "Oh, today's the day we'll be getting rid of most of your clothes," she said, matter-of-factly. "But I thought I could keep them." "You don't need them. It's been a few weeks since you agreed to be my housewife. Except for work, you haven't worn them much." She climbs from the bed. Gorgeous in her sexy nightwear. "You know," she said. "When you look at me like that, I don't know whether you're drooling over me or my nightie." She did a little dance. Turned up the heat. For a moment I'm lost for words. "A little of both." She grinned. "Can I please keep some of my clothes?" She smiled. "Of course you can keep some of them. But don't forget, you're my wife now, Kirsten. You may keep a couple of shirts for work. And when I want to play." "Can I at least keep-?" "Okay, Kirsten," my wife said sharply. "You know how you behaved while you were away, how far you went. You know what you are to me and my closest friends." "Yes, Miss Maggie," I said automatically. "Better. Now, I don't ever want to see male socks, boxer shorts, jeans or trousers in this house again. Do you understand?" "Yes, Miss Maggie." She left the room to clean up. I got out of bed, the long, soft nightie swirling around my smooth, shaven legs. I approached the wardrobes and slowly empty mine, except for my female clothes. My ordinary clothes, I should say. And a couple of shirts and T-shirts. I filled another bag with all my socks and boxers. It was one of the hardest things I've ever done. One more step towards my emasculation. Old questions rose in my mind, doubts I've had all my cross-dressing life, now amplified to a deafening crescendo: you are a man; how are you letting this happen? Maggie peeked in. Dressed in a long skirt and low cut blouse. "Come on, Sweetie. We've got a lot to do." "But it's my week off. I thought you were going away with work." "I meant to ask you about that. Did you deliberately book a week off for when I wasn't here?" My wife was supposed to be away for three days. I had deliberately taken this week off. It had been so intense, constantly dressed and under threat of humiliation. I just needed a reprieve from what was happening to me. A chance to reflect on what I wanted from our relationship without being washed up in passion and excitement and the perpetual tease and promise of humiliation. "Yes, Miss Maggie," I confessed. "Well, I'll be with you today, but then I'll have the girls check in on you while I'm away." I look down. "I'm sorry, Miss Maggie." "I'm not going to lie, Kirsten. You've caused me some inconvenience in my work. So over the next few days you are going to be punished and humiliated, probably more than you ever wished for. But I want you to enjoy it and I want it to be fair, so I'm going to give you a sporting chance." "What do you mean?" "You'll see. For now, get dressed and bring the bags of clothes down." "What should I wear?" "It's up to you, Kirsten. I'll let you choose today." "Thank you, Miss Maggie." TWO Maggie met me at the door and looked me over. "Is that what you'd like to wear today?" "Yes," I nod, happy with my choice. I had on a nice matching panty and bra set from Debenhams, tights, women's jeans --- my jeans --- with a delicate little pattern on the back pockets, and a shirt that did a good job of hiding the bra. "Happy?" "Yes." "No make-up?" Maggie asked. I shake my head. "And you haven't done anything with your hair." "No." This was my time off work. I wanted to dress how I liked. "Are you rebelling? Be honest." I thought for a moment. About what I had planned to wear this week. "Maybe a little," I confessed. "So that is what you want to wear," she whispered thoughtfully. "Okay, then. Wait here." She ran upstairs and was gone for about five minutes. What was she doing? Maybe dressing down a little herself, to match my casual look? I was good. There was a hint of bra, perhaps, but very few people would notice. The jeans were okay. As she came down the stairs, Maggie declared: "I'm going to enjoy today much more than I thought I would." She considered me a moment. Opened her hand and revealed pearl clip-on earrings, a matching bracelet and necklace that would hang down my chest, sitting snug between my small, natural breasts. "Put them on," she told me. "But I can't wear them when I'm dressed like this." She picked up my wallet and emptied it out. Dropped it into one of the bags. "What are you doing?" "The wallet goes with your clothes. From now on you'll use your purse every day." "But what about when I'm out with friends? Or at work?" "You'll think of something." I reluctantly fixed the drop earrings on. I haven't worn them often so it's still a little unfamiliar when they tickle against my neck. I slip the bracelet onto my wrist. I hang the necklace and tuck it into my shirt so nobody will see. "Kirsten, you have fine jewellery. I'd like you to show it off." I slowly allowed the necklace to drape outside my clothes, hanging down the front of my shirt. I arranged my purse, sliding the cards into slots and putting my loose change into the zip compartment. My last two cards are my pink Boux Avenue loyalty card, and my Cineworld Unlimited card. Maggie grinned. "You'll be needing that tomorrow." "Cool." There were a few films out that I wanted to catch. I had planned to spend a day or two at the cinema, so at least I was still going to get a chance to watch a film or two. I caught my reflection in the mirror with dismay. "Still want to go out like that?" I looked like a man wearing women's jewellery. A perfectly obvious indication of my feminisation after I had hid it so well. Maggie dropped my long clutch style purse into my handbag. "Here you go." I take it and slip it over my shoulder. "Please don't make me go out like this," I begged her. Jesus, how could she? "Kirsten, you chose what you wanted to wear. Now let's go." I reached down for my sneakers. She shook her head and pointed to my 4 inch heels. THREE The visit to the charity shop was impossibly difficult. I was sad and vulnerable, turning in another part of my masculinity. Usually I'm quite chatty and personable, but that morning was different. Things kicked up a gear and started to seem that bit more permanent. Maggie stopped and I climbed out, swinging my legs to the pavement so as to keep them together. I unloaded the bags. "I'll meet you at the sports shop," she said, gesturing to the far side of the car park. Before I could protest, she was gone. Where could I run to, or hide, looking how I did? I accepted a little more of who I was becoming and entered the charity shop. A little bell jangled above the door and the few patrons within looked at me. A couple of them giggled as I walked to the counter. The woman behind it was middle-aged. Probably attractive a few years ago, but now she was handsome. She looked up from her paperwork. That first moment. Will they giggle? Outright laugh? Smile demurely, or make an actual attempt to understand me? "Nice earrings," she said of the drop pearls, just the hint of a smile. "Thank you." I indicate the bags. "My wife has told me to hand my male clothes in." The smile broadened. "What's your name?" I didn't know what name to give her. Dressed like this it could go either way. My lips form a word and I'm amazed at the name that escapes them. "Kirsten." She smiled, her mind processing how to react. In the awkward silence, I started to blush. I glanced at the door. She was enjoying the moment. "Are you okay, Kirsten?" I started to panic. "May I leave?" "Of course. Thank you for your donation." It was probably all in my head, but I was absolutely certain she had read me. Not necessarily the cross-dressing aspect of my life, but the private and public games I enjoyed on some forbidden level. The fact that I craved small humiliations. In my eagerness to escape, I realised I was now exposed from the sanctuary of the shop, in clear view of pedestrians and drivers. I kept my head down and quickly walked across the parking lot, the earrings tickling the side of my neck, the necklace bouncing between my small breasts. It was such a busy retail park. There was a lot of pointing. A little laughter. Yet I loved the sound of the heels on the pavement, the way I was sure they made my legs look, and my butt in the tight jeans. Still, I hurried on. I finally reached Maggie at Decathalon, the sports shop. She was smirking in the doorway. "Slow down, Kirsten," my wife told me. "I know you can walk much better than that." I was almost breathless. "Calm down. You went through much worse than this when you were away." "But that was just some wicked game. This is getting more and more real." "Look, some days will be easier than others. You know I love you and we'll get you to a point where you are truly comfortable with yourself. But I know as well as dressing up, you love humiliation. So that will be always be part of your life, too." "You said we'll get you..." "Yes. Me and the girls. Now, let's go inside. There's something we need to pick up for this afternoon." FOUR We entered Decathalon, my steps nice and short and feminine. Even though I was wearing jeans and a shirt, in the heels it felt natural to walk this way. "Much better," Maggie told me, and I smiled at pleasing her. She led us to a female clothing section and considered various shorts. Typically they had pink motifs, or narrow pink piping on the sides. "Are you looking for a new gym outfit?" I asked hopefully. Maggie looked at me and laughed slightly. "Remember I said you had a sporting chance to make the next few days easier?" "Sure." "So today you'll face two challenges. How you do will dictate how the next couple of days go. If you win both events, it will be a walk in the park." It was my turn to laugh. It would be easy. I'm fairly active. I enjoy racquet sports and snooker. I'll win anything she throws at me. "What challenges?" I asked. "Tennis and snooker." I grinned. Are you kidding me? I'm a club level tennis player with an accurate serve that's been clocked at over 100mph. Serve and volley. Attack the net. I'm cocky, but fairly unbeatable. In snooker I'm the second best player on the league team I play with. "Feeling confident?" Before I could answer a sales clerk, probably early twenties, approached us. She was perky and bubbly. "Do you guys need any help?" "Yes," my wife told her. "We're looking for a new outfit." "Sure. What sport?" "Tennis. Sorry, just to clarify, we're looking for my husband." "But you're in the..." she began, but then slowly considered me. Her young brain wasn't quite sure how to process what she was seeing. On the street she'd just laugh her tight little ass off. But here in work? How should she act? This guy was clearly wearing women's jewellery, was carrying a handbag. Even looked like he had a bra on. What should she do? My wife made it easy for her. "It's okay. You may laugh," she told the sales clerk. She immediately burst into giggles. "Why is he dressed like that?" "She," my wife corrected. "I should have told you, she's not really my husband anymore-" "Maggie, please-" "She is actually my housewife." I looked around, blushing redder than any make-up. "Why?" the young woman asked, barely containing herself. "Kirsten?" I hesitated. Finally said: "I enjoy wearing women's clothing." Maggie laughed a little. "That's not even half of it, Sweetie. She does her best to pass sometimes, but on other occasions she likes to be seen. For women to notice her. Like today." I watched as the young woman had a light bulb moment. "Can we go?" I quickly asked my wife. "Hold up. You came in here for a cute new outfit," the woman said. "Come on." She took my wife's hand and I dutifully followed, soon finding myself surrounded by racks of tennis skirts. "What size are you?" she asked. "Sixteen." She rifled through some clothes. Withdrew a couple of items, but put them back, until- "Here you go." She handed me a tennis skirt. My fingers trembled slightly as I took it. When I was a child playing tennis on the school team I used to love watching the girls play their matches. I'd daydream about playing my own matches in their uniform. "Thank you." It was white with a pink pattern emblazoned down one side. She passed me a matching top. She followed it with a pair of pink socks and women's sneakers. She looked at my feet, grinning at the heels. "They should fit." I turned towards the checkout. "Hold up," the woman said, throwing my wife a playful look. "The fitting room is that way." "Maggie?" My wife offered the young woman a high five. "Go on now, Kirsten," The woman giggled at my name. "Yeah, Kirsten. I want to see how you look." For a second I couldn't move. My wife delicately smacked my butt to get me moving. I entered the fitting room and wanted to change quickly. But after removing my clothes I slowly slid the skirt up my smooth legs, marvelled in the mirror at the pleats and feminine cut. I put the top on and wished I had my inserts to see how I would really look. Socks and then the pink sneakers. I wanted to stay there, but knew I had to risk stepping out. I emerged, thankful the store was still relatively empty. There were a few more patrons across the way and they did notice me, but from afar it wasn't too bad. "You look great," my wife told me. The young clerk handed me a racquet. "What's this for?" I asked her. "I want to see you serve." My wife practically broke up. I pretended to throw a ball in the air and hit it towards them. The skirt drifted around my legs. "No, no," Maggie told me. "From behind." From all the tennis matches I've watched over the years, I knew what they wanted. I turned. Breathed deeply. I tossed the pretend ball high, and with all my effort sent a scorching ace over an imaginary net...and as I did the skirt hiked up in the back revealing my lacey, satin underwear for a second. The young woman burst into laughter and clapped. "Go get changed," my wife instructed. I quickly disappeared into the fitting room, and emerged a minute later. At the checkout the young woman told me the total. I reached into my handbag and took out my purse to another little giggle. "What else is in there?" she asked. I honestly didn't know since my wife had given me the bag. "I'm not sure," I started to make my payment, and the woman clocked my pink Boux Avenue loyalty card. "There stuff's great. I shop there, too," she smiled. "Come on. Let's see what's in your bag. I'm just curious what a man would carry in a handbag." I hold the bag open for her, dreading what might come out. She reached in and pulled out a packet of tissues, a pen, my small work diary. "Very masculine," she grinned about the book as she placed it on the counter: a butterfly motif on the cover and a narrow pink ribbon to mark pages. "Here we go." She'd hit the mother lode. My small make-up bag. She unzipped it. Compact mirror, lipstick and mascara. She considered my bare face. "Maybe you should freshen up," she suggested. "That's okay," I said. "Kirsten, this young lady has been kind enough to help us. Now do as she says." In front of her I opened the mirror and applied a coat of mulberry lipstick. Then put the make-up away. "And the mascara," the woman told me. I looked to my wife with pleading eyes, but she simply nodded. I naturally applied mascara to both eyes. "You've done that before," the young woman observed. "What else have we got-?" She stopped as her hand cupped the final contents. She laughed. "Oh, my God. Do you actually wear these?" She opened her hand revealing the small pink packet of a panty liner and a couple of tampons. "No." "Kirsten," my wife interjected. "I only wear them when I'm...when it's..." "Kirsten follows a period cycle. It's not her time right now, but a woman has to be prepared, right?" The cashier flicked through my diary, lots of dates marked up to show when my period will be so I can be ready. My personal period tracker. "Not long, Kirsten. Next week. Are you cramping yet?" I looked at her, puzzled. "She needs educating," my wife explained. "She thinks a period is all about PMS. A friend on the internet suggested she should follow a complete menstrual cycle, so her tracker will soon show her fertile times and what we'll be doing. Do you know what a butt plug is?" "Maggie!" I exclaim. The women ignore me. "That should do it," the cashier said. "It's a good idea." "But I don't want to wear a butt plug," I protested. "Hush now, Dear," my wife told me. "It won't be for a few days yet. And then it will only be for three or four days. And we'll start small." I baulked at the notion, but knew what my wife was doing. She'd planted a seed. My worry and concern would make that seed grow and fill my mind until I was actually curious. In a few days or so, when it was time, I'd be begging to wear a butt plug. "Thank you," my wife said to the young clerk. "Wait a second," the woman called when we reached the door. "Can I share the CCTV footage with my friends?" "Kirsten?" I want the footage deleted, but I nod reluctantly, knowing what my wife wants to hear. "If you think you're friends will enjoy it. I'd love for them to see me." FIVE Thankfully, the tennis court my wife had reserved was out of town, so none of the regular players at my club would see me. The drive out gave me a chance to reflect on what was happening. It was the usual split decision. I wondered if I would ever be truly happy with what my wife was doing to me; but could I find that true happiness without this aspect of my life? I would always cross-dress, but where did this desire for humiliation come from? It had started at university when an old girlfriend, Debs, had always told me what to wear; entertainment for herself, and then for her friends, too. But how had such fun become pretty much absolute feminisation with my wife? It was an addiction, I realised. So I could- "I said, we're here," Maggie told me. I looked up. I didn't recognise the venue. We entered and Maggie confirmed the booking. We were pointed in the direction of the locker rooms with a giggle. "Sorry," the female receptionist said. "I'm not sure which he'll.....she'll need." W hen we reached them my wife smiled. "In you go," she said, indicating the men's changing room. "But I'll be dressed as a woman." "Do I need to remind you?" she asked me. "You chose what you would wear today." I breathed deeply before I entered the men's changing room. Luckily, it was empty. Okay. I quickly undressed and pulled my tights off. In just my bra and panties, I reached into the bag for my new skirt and top as- The door opened and two squash players walked in. They hadn't seen me, but I panicked. Lifted the top. Dropped the skirt. Then reached for my shirt instead and- They saw me. "What the hell have we got here?" one of them declared. The other was speechless. I tried to put my top on, but the first man called me on it. "Stop right there." "Please let me get dressed," I said, my instinctively hands covering my small breasts. "Just wait right there. Lower your hands." I did as he told me and started to get hard at his domination, my penis tenting my soft panties. No, I thought. Not now. The second player grinned. "He's enjoying being found out." "No. I'm not." But I sounded pathetic protesting. They could see how hard I was getting, how aroused I was. My penis was stiffening. I imagined it to be big. The first man pointed at my........well, at my little clittie. "You know this is the men's locker room. The women's is across the hall." I grabbed my things. "I'll go then." The second held up his hand. "Hold on, Sweetheart. We wouldn't send you out of here in just that sexy underwear. Please. Finish getting changed." I wondered if it was a trick, but grateful, I eased my top on. As I do, the men start to undress, comfortable in their nakedness, something I had never been able to be. Their own erections are vast. I quickly pulled my skirt up to hide my own short-comings and then put on my little pink socks and new pink sneakers. They stood before me, bodies sweaty and glistening, their penises high and pointing at me. Targeting me. Jesus, they were so big. I realised I was staring and looked up. The men laughed their asses off. "May I go?" I asked quietly. "Don't you want a taste?" the first man asked. I considered him, his massive cock, thought about it in my mouth. I breathed in. My hand was reaching out to touch it, hold it. My knees were jelly and I started to kneel. I was surprised by how badly I wanted it. My lips pouted and my tongue ran slowly across them as I leaned towards him- A towel suddenly snapped against my leg, and I let out a high pitched squeal. "Get out of here, you sissy bitch!" the second man called and they burst out laughing. I quickly ran out of the room and hoped I would never see them again. SIX Racheal, one of my wife's close friends, is on the far side of the net, and even though I can't shake the image of the men and what I had almost done, I knew this was going to be easy. "You can serve," I kindly offered after a little warm up. She seemed pretty good. My wife told me they had all played each other - the girls - last week to decide who would face me. Racheal was their champion. My wife, who would referee the game, raised her hand. "A few special rules, Kirsten." "What do you mean?" "You'll play like a traditional woman. No approaching the net." "That's ridiculous. Even women don't play like that, these days." "If you cross the half way line I'll call a foul. If you power serve, I'll call a foul." "Am I even allowed to hit the ball?" I asked. "Only if you're fast enough," Racheal called, and sent her first serve down. An ace. I didn't even see it. "Fifteen-love," my wife announced. So we began. I adapted my game to the new rules my wife had implicated, relying strongly on a slow, sliced serve and doing my best to keep Racheal away from the net. I was horribly aware of random strangers who stop to watch me running around in my skirt, playing extremely delicately when I know how hard I could be hitting the ball. Some laugh and stay a while. Others move on. Near the end of the first set at a deciding moment, I serve - and hear a wolf whistle behind me. I turned. It was the men from the locker room. A ball sailed by me and I lost the first set. I rallied in the next, determined to show them all I could win, despite the feminine handicaps. But seeing the locker room men, knowing they were watching me, had me well and truly distracted. I couldn't shake the image of going down before them, pumping at their cocks and gagging on their cum. I needed them so badly. I lost another game. It was my serve and I concentrated hard. No power just heavy slice and the ball gracefully looped through the sky. Pulled out of court for her return, it was an easy point to win. "Great serve, Sissy!" "Shake your butt, Honey!" I found myself complying to their calls. I wanted to please them. I put a little wiggle in my step and they laughed at me. "Foul for flirting," my wife giggled. I nearly lost the second set, but managed to pull through. I stop for a second, towelling myself off, and my wife calls me over. "Enjoying yourself?" she asked. "No," I said. Too quickly. I thought about the attention, the number of people who had stopped to watch. The pleasant chill breeze on my warm, smooth legs, and the surprising jiggle of my small, natural breasts. "Yes, Miss Maggie. I am enjoying myself." My wife slapped my butt. "Out you go then. Deciding set." The third set was close, but I came through despite more heckling from my locker room fan club. As I approached the net at the end of the game I noticed them leaving, and was a little disappointed I wouldn't get to......flirt with them any longer. I shook Racheal's hand, holding it like a lady. "Thank you for the game, Miss Racheal." She considered my fingers and I wondered what she was looking at. "Paybacks' going to be a bitch," she smiled. SEVEN Once more I was sent to the men's locker room. I sneaked in as it was fairly crowded, weaving closely between firm bodies, hoping nobody would notice what I was wearing. A rugby match had just finished and the showers were steaming, packed with hulks. Several of them were towelling dry; others walked around naked. They were chanting about their victory and I quickly undressed, red with shame. There was obviously no hiding. They heckled me, called me names. Some asked for favours, others for my number. Several of them were hard. I guess I'm bi-curious, I don't know. But I started to wonder how many of them would actually be comfortable if I called them out, held one of their hands and pulled him close, touched him, stroked him hard and then devoured- "Look at it!" one of them pointed. I snapped out of my erotic daydream as they laughed at my tiny erection, a damp spot growing in my panties. I was moist for all to see. I quickly dressed and got out of there. I leaned on a wall at my escape and breathed a sigh of relief. "Your jewellery, Kirsten," my wife snapped. "Sorry, Miss Maggie, but I had to get out of there quick." She considered the bulge in my tight, women's jeans. "Maybe I should send you back inside," she suggested. "No, please, don't," I begged, fixing my earrings on. Then my necklace. Finally I slid the bracelet onto my wrist. I was ashamed that I was still hard, excited about the idea of returning to the men. Maybe one of them would let me take them into- "Kirsten, I said let's go. You still have to win the second event." EIGHT It was late in the afternoon when we returned home. I was told to take a bubble bath and relax. "I'll leave the clothes you must wear tonight on our bed," Maggie told me. "Take your time. I want you to look good. We'll be leaving at seven- thirty." "Who's going?" "All of us. You, me and the girls." "Where to?" "It's a surprise. But you're going to have fun." I dreaded what was to come. It was only a snooker game. But why the need to dress up? And where were we going to play the game? The only sure thing was: whichever one of them chose to play me wouldn't stand a chance. In the tub, covered in aromatic bubbles, I soaked and imagined what I might have to wear. My hand found my small penis and I began to tease myself, excited at the prospects ahead. I remembered how Cindy, on the plane to America, had made me cum merely by applying pressure at certain points on my penis. I began to imitate what she had done. No stroking or pumping. Just tender massaging. I tucked me penis between my soapy legs and let it slide between them. I cleared the bubbles and it looked like a pussy down there. All I could see was a small triangle of hair. I applied pressure there, began to massage my breasts, moaning- "Just like a woman," Cindy giggled, echoing her words from the plane. I opened my eyes and sat up, shocked by the presence. How long had she been watching? "I'm sorry, Miss Cindy." "Don't be. It was quite entertaining, but Maggie instructed me to remind you of the time." There was definitely a hierarchy to the women, I thought, considering her language. Instructed. I couldn't decide who was leading the way, my wife or her good friend Pippa. And then the others, their new friends, fell in line behind them. Cindy handed me a towel. I stepped out of the tub and wrapped it around my body like a woman. I dried off and went to the bedroom, stopping short. "I can't go out wearing that!" I exclaimed. My sexy Anne Summers maid outfit lay on the bed. There was a burst of laughter behind me. I turned. It was Pippa, the woman who was definitely appearing to be the driving force behind a lot of what my wife was doing. Of course, my wife enjoyed our games, but Pippa pushed and pushed my limits. "Relax, Kirsten. I'm just messing with you." "It's not funny." "Maggie said you can choose your outfit. But I'll suggest that you don't wear jeans or trousers." I was left alone. I waited for a minute, not only thinking about what to wear, but once again, what I was about to do. I was so lucky to be in this situation, and I buried any doubts about my behaviour. I wanted to feel good tonight. I pulled open one of my underwear drawers and found one of my sexiest matching sets, a gorgeous peach balconette bra and panties, a lace trim suspender belt and lace top stockings. I slipped my inserts into the bra to help my shape. Then I held a few blouses up, pairing them with different skirts, but I finally settled on a blue Dorothy Perkins dress. It was cut low in the back and the front, and would show off my developing cleavage. Almost off the shoulder, it was about knee length. A nice mix of conservative and sexy. I put on a pair of 3 inch court shoes that matched the outfit. I then spent fifteen minutes or so on my make-up. First foundation, which I blended into my skin colour. Then a brush of bronzer and blush. Eye shadow, dark towards the outside and lighter around the inner eye. Normally I wasn't very adventurous and stuck to neutral colours, but tonight I chose a light blue that matched my eyes and the dress I was wearing. Then mascara and lipstick, and a coat of lip gloss to finish, creating a pretty sheen that caught the lights. From my jewellery box I found a long necklace that draped between the cut of the dress, emphasising my cleavage. Clip on earrings to match, and a delicate bracelet. I dug out a couple of sparkling hair grips and fixed my hair into a feminine style. Finally, I painted my nails a soft red to match my lips. Not quite pink. I checked the name so I would remember it: Rose Blush. I looked in the mirror and breathed deeply. I was gone. There was only Kirsten and she was gorgeous. I smiled. Before these games I'd only been out dressed a few times with various results. I'd never worn this dress out. But, strangely, as I approached the stairs I wasn't concerned. I was happy and wanted the approval of my female friends, even if they were also my tormentors. I wanted them to say how wonderful I looked but- -when I reached the bottom of the stairs I was greeted by silence. "Sorry. I'll change," I stammered. My wife held up her hand. "Wait." I turned at the bottom of the stairs. "Kirsten, you look beautiful." I considered her, the tears her eyes harboured, and realised that even if I did believe their games sometimes went too far, I knew that she would always be my girl....and that I would always be hers. NINE I couldn't go inside the building. Despite all her kindness, there was a cruel trick being played, and it nearly had me running down the street. There we were, the six of us all dressed to kill, standing in front of the venue for the snooker game. A few women ushered by. More cars were pulling up around us. It was extremely busy as more and more women rushed in. I was mostly shielded by the group as we were looked at as a whole. Big night in a small town. Bingo night. Why did I know that? Because the girls, and I suspected it was probably Pippa's idea, had decided I would play snooker at......the club where I was a team member! On it's busiest night of the week......When my own team would be inside for a practice session! "Come on," my wife smiled, nudging me forward. I couldn't move. "It's going to be a great night," she assured me. "Yes," Pippa said happily. "I haven't played bingo for years. And then the big snooker-" "Bingo?" I asked. "Oh, come on. It will be fun. Right, girls?" It was a positive and enthusiastic response. They moved in as a whole, and all I could do was keep my steps in time with theirs and try to remain in the middle of the group. But whenever I felt hidden, a gap would open up, or one of them would ease me to the outer edge. Of course, as we entered, nobody was paying any real attention to me. Walking firstly into a social area, people barely glanced up from their drinks. But I felt everybody was looking at me. That everybody could see me. Who I was. One of them. These were people I said hello to once or twice a week. We headed to another set of doors and I started to slow, but I was washed along with the group into the- -Snooker Hall. And there they were. Steve, the team Captain. Big Tony and Little Tony. Scott. Thankfully a couple of others were not present. I tried to hurry, but the group chose now to slow down, and stop. "Hello boys!" Pippa called across the tables. They looked up. All married, but all considering us with hungry eyes. Steve, boyish and handsome, cocky with it, grinned. "Fancy a game?" "No," I whispered. "You any good?" Pippa asked Steve. They were all staring at us. Don't let them see me, don't let them see me. I did my best to hide amongst the group, but again found myself being gently eased to the front. God, don't let them recognise me! "I'm the best around here," Steve boasted, and he probably was. I could take him sometimes, but he did have the best record of results amongst us. "Could give you a lesson if you like?" "Maybe later. Kirsten's pretty good, aren't you, Honey?" Jesus, they were all looking directly at me. "Yes," I whispered. Pippa considered Steve. "Perhaps she'll give you a lesson." He looked right at me from across the hall. We practiced in match conditions, so even though the tables were illuminated, the hall itself was quite dark, so he didn't recognise me. I smiled as sweetly as I could trying to hide my panic. "Anytime, Sweetheart," he grinned, actually hitting on me with that look. I shrunk back into the group, blushing. "I can't play against my friends dressed like this," I begged quietly. "We'll see you in an hour or two boys," my wife giggled, despite my whispered protests, and as a group we moved into the Bingo Hall. TEN I felt quite free in the group as we moved around the hall and found a table. The room was fairly packed, mostly women. They barely paid us any attention as we sat near the back. I even managed to joke and smile a little until- Pippa looked at me. "I could use a drink before the game starts." "No," I said, shocked by what she was asking. The bartender was busy, but up close, speaking, he'd recognise me for sure. "Please don't make me go." "Relax," Stephanie said. "I'll come with you." She took my hand and led me to the busy bar. Anybody could read me. Heck, it wasn't about getting read....Anybody here might recognise me! The bartender, Simon, was used to pouring beers and opening bottles, but occasionally mixes cocktails for the right girl. He's hurrying and doesn't afford us much time. Stephanie orders, and then looks at me. "What can I get you, Sweetie?" Simon asked. He fills an awkward silence with: "You been here before?" "Appletini," I finally said, and shook my head. "No, no. I'm just visiting friends." I spoke as quietly as I could. Just loud enough for him to hear, but not so that my voice could give me away. He looks at me. Smiled. "No problem, Sweetheart." He handed me the drink and all I could think was: he can see me! He knows! "Thank you," I said softly. We shared a look, a little moment, and then he moved onto his next customers. "Kirsten likes the bartender," Stephanie informed the group in a sing- song voice as we sat back down. "No," I said, blushing. "I know him and I think he recognised me. That was why he was staring." "Look at you, girl," Cindy said. "You're so crushing on him." "No, I'm not," I said. "Kirsten," my wife told me, holding my hand, "it's okay to be attracted to men, and them to you. Look at you." "Please don't talk like that." "Baby, I love you. We talked about it. You've hinted at what you'd like and let's face it, in the first story you wrote for me you imagined doing things that would make a prostitute blush. I know you really saw the Captain of the plane in his hotel room, but what you dreamed of doing to him in the restroom on the plane-" "Maggie, please don't-" "Kirsten, as a woman I understand you must have needs and desires. And that's okay," my wife assured me. "Settle down, Kirsten," Pippa chimed in. "We're your girlfriends. We'll only let things happen if we know you want them." She winked. Grinned. "And I know exactly what you want. Just a little taste. A little-" "Okay," I said quickly. "The game's starting. Nobody can talk now." The women all laughed at me. ELEVEN "Bingo!" Pippa cried out, waving frantically. "Well done," I said, even though everybody was looking at our table. I'd started enjoying myself, loosening up with a couple of cocktails. "It's you," she pointed. "Now repeat the numbers so they can verify you're a winner." I remain silent as everybody looked at me expectantly. Talking was one thing. But then I'd have to walk to the stage and select a prize. All eyes would truly be on me without the protection of the group. "Go on," my wife encouraged me. I softly said the numbers. "Winner! Come on up and choose a prize!" Maggie nudged me under the table. "Go get your prize, Sweetheart. Choose something nice and girly." It took a few seconds for me to stand. I nervously walked to the stage, feminine in my stride, but careful not to over-do it. People had started to talk amongst themselves. I was fooling them. I quickly found the first girly prize I could see, a flowery cross-stitching kit and my fingers trembled as I picked it up. My heart pounded in my chest as I headed back for the table. But I'd done it. Nobody had read me or worse, recognised me. And then- Lyn, Big Tony's wife, fixed her eyes on me as I passed her table. She smiled. I smiled. I'd never cheat on my wife, except, of course, for the games she played with me, but I'd always had a soft spot for Lyn. She was older, probably in her mid-fifties, but damn, she was hot. She was maturing gracefully. A real lady. Just something about her that turned me on - a look, a little glint about her, the way she moved and spoke. I realised I had stopped and was staring. And she was staring at me.....At me! I quickly moved off and reached our table. "See you've got a new hobby," Racheal teased. I don't even hear her. I'm checking on Lyn. She's still watching me. She smiled and waved. She knew! "Huh?" I said to Racheal. "Your little cross-stitching kit. It's going to be fun." TWELVE I watched Lyn as the game finished and people started to pick up their handbags, put on their coats. She was looking straight at me. "We have to go," I said quickly, watching her stand. We stood, moving as a whole again, but even that didn't comfort me. Lyn was heading towards us and we were not going to reach the door in time. Lyn stood before us. "That was a great win...." she said to me, expecting a name. "Kirsten," I said softly, looking anywhere except her eyes. "I love a good cross-stitch. Do you?" "It's my......It's my first." I tried to shrink into the group, but again found them deliberately exposing me. So I stood, copying their stance, creating a distinctly female posture. My wife smiled and nodded. It was a small moment between us, but in this moment of panic it helped me to relax. Lyn offered her hand and I take it gracefully. "My name's Lyn. I'm Chairwoman of the club. I don't think I've seen you here before." "I sometimes play...." I stop, aware I was about to trip up and give myself away. Lyn smiled. She knew exactly who I was. "I'm just visiting my friends," I tried to explain, but my body was starting to tremble at being discovered. "I.....I....." The women around me, including my wife, started to giggle as I fell apart. "Relax," Maggie said. "You knew this might happen." "But......But, Lyn, please don't tell anyone. Don't tell the team. Don't tell anybody. Please." Lyn smiled sweetly. That same look that still turned me on even now. She probably didn't even know she was doing it, or she did and was a big tease. "You are so cute, Kirsten. And so pretty, too." "Please don't-" "Kirsten," my wife interjected. "Your new friend is paying you a compliment." I looked at Lyn and she waited for my response. In one swift move my wife had let Lyn know who was in control here. That I wasn't here by choice dressed as I was. "Well?" Maggie prompted. "Thank you, Miss Lyn." "Wow," Lyn laughed at my submissiveness. "Such respect. You've got him.....Sorry, which pro-noun do you prefer?" "Female," my wife said. Lyn grinned, looking at me. "You've got her well trained." "She's getting there," my wife assured her. Lyn looked directly at me. "And what will you do to stop me telling my husband, or the whole team, about your sexy little hobby?" "You can't. Please don't. I'll....I'll-" Lyn turned to Maggie. "Does she have any skills?" "She performs well as a maid. I have a friend who uses her once a month. Completes all the usual kind of chores. Vacuuming, dishes, dusting, cleaning the windows which she absolutely loves because-" "Maggie, stop," I beg. "-she enjoys the risk of being seen and humiliated. Of course, she completes all the housework at home as a maid if I wish." I can't hide from Lyn. I see her in the club all the time and now she doesn't take her eyes off me, imagining me doing the things she is hearing. "If you need a cleaner, or a new barmaid, a waitress for the restaurant perhaps..." The hall is largely deserted now. Racheal, Cindy, Stephanie and Pippa all suppress their laughter as a new, powerful woman might potentially join their ranks. "Does she offer any other services?" she asked frankly. "Big Tony is letting me down these days." "Is there anywhere private you would like to take her?" my wife asked matter-of-factly. I stared aghast at her. She pouted secretly for me. Lyn considered me. Looked me up and down. She actually stared at me dreamily, thinking of the possibilities ahead. "Is she a good girl, or bad?" "A little of both." "I'm a good girl," I exclaimed. All the women laughed at me. "Tell me again," Lyn commanded. I remained silent, eyes pleading with me wife. Please stop this. Stop this now. "Kirsten?" Lyn asked. "I'm a good girl," I submitted. "Thank you," Lyn said to my wife, and then looked directly at me. "Follow me." She marched off and I hesitated. "Go on," Pippa said joyfully, lightly smacking my butt. "We'll have the boys set up your game ready for when Lyn has finished with you." "Have fun," my wife told me. I hesitantly and nervously followed Lyn. I'd forgotten about the snooker game. It was the furthest thing from my mind. After Lyn had done whatever she was going to do, I would still have to face my team and hope they didn't recognise me. THIRTEEN The office is set off from the main hall and when I entered Lyn was waiting for me. "Take off your dress," she immediately told me. I hesitated a second too long and felt the sting of her hand on my leg. I gasped. She reached for the zip herself and slowly, ever so slowly, lowered it. The dress peeled apart exposing the small of my back. She eased it off my shoulders and it slowly dropped to the floor. "Turn," she said sternly. I moved on the spot. There I was, standing before the Chairwoman of my snooker club, a venue I visited regularly, wearing bra and panties, lace top stockings and a suspender belt, and 3 inch heeled court shoes. "Look at me." I couldn't meet her eyes. I just wanted to dress and get out of there. "Look at me now, Kirsten," she told me. Lyn was an authoritarian, and I knew I must do everything she told me. Anything. I raised my head and met her gaze. "Do you like satin? All the soft and sensual items we real women love to wear?" "Yes, Miss Lyn," I said, aware that pre-cum is starting to leak from my penis. "Don't you look pretty with your perky little breasts and your tiny, tiny, clit." She touched me briefly with a small laugh. I don't know whether it was my size, the damp spot. Something amused her. An idea, perhaps. "Lower your panties." I did as I was told with only a little hesitation. She laughed at my hardening penis. Placed a hand at my ball sack and stretched her longest finger out along my dick. I willed myself to stiffen, thought about that finger, the gorgeous acrylic nail, scratching along my shaft. Pre-cum dribbled out and she laughed at my effort. She switched fingers and I almost cried as she placed her pinkie against my erection. Again I thought of her touching, stroking, pumping my shaft. It would be huge. My penis wavered, but held strong at the thought of her making me cum in a traditional male fashion, a good old hand job using those acrylic nails. My penis stiffened. I beamed at my victory. A giant smile. "It's nothing to be proud of," Lyn laughed. "But congratulations. You have a penis just bigger than my little finger. No wonder your wife prefers you feminised. It does make a cute little clittie." A sudden spank across my butt. I gasped. "Pull your panties up," she instructed me. "Lyn, I-" Another slap. A sharp intake of breath as I tried to control myself. A squeal escaped my lips. "Pull them up." I did as I was told. "Please don't tell anybody on the team. I'll do anything." "Don't worry. I won't tell anybody. But I am going to surprise you every practice night and at every match. Home or away." "What do you mean?" "Some nights it will be like this. Our private little game. Other nights I might have panties for you to wear. My panties. Fresh and moist. Sometimes it might be more public." I'm stiff as a board by now, dreading what she might do. I can't help but think what she might do to make her panties ready for me. Don't cum. Jesus, don't cum in front of her, I thought. "Maybe I'll have you wear lipstick. Just one little thing. But so obvious for all to see. Or a bra." My body started to tremble and quake at the prospect of such humiliations. People I know would see me for what I am. A cross-dresser. A sissy? They would laugh and laugh. My penis reacted accordingly to the thought and I told myself to hold on, hold on and don't cum yet. I sensed Miss Lyn hadn't finished with me. "Please don't make me wear a bra. People will see the straps." "Perhaps it won't matter because I'll have you wearing a nice blouse, or a girly T-shirt." "Please don't," I shivered. "Please, please," she whispered, mocking me. "I'll do anything I like......And so long as you obey I'll never tell your team." "I will," I assured her. "I'll always obey. I'll do anything." "Then I expect you to dress in the appropriate underwear to the games, and then I'll see you and decide what to do with you." My penis threatened release as I stood before her. "Kneel." I dropped down and looked up. Lyn hiked her skirt up. Her panties were wet. I can't wait and don't need telling. I arched my back and neck, suck at the moist panties. I pulled them down and for just a moment considered her trimmed, maintained pussy. I licked at it, tasted her gorgeous juices. Her body began to tremble as I slipped my tongue inside her. I massaged her stockinged thighs. Truthfully, her legs are no longer svelte. Her body is clinging graciously to her final glorious years. But damn, she's hot. My tongue eats out her tired, but wet pussy. She cries out and I can't hold back any longer. We both pant and gasp and heave as our orgasms hit. Cum explodes out of me after all the turn- ons of the day. I suck and drink her dry. Lyn stroked my hair as our bodies began to relent. "You are a bad, little girl, aren't you, Kirsten. I'm so happy I've found you." I tried to smile, but I knew the way my mind worked. I was deeply ashamed by my behaviour. One day I might be comfortable, happy, with what I do, but for now there was still that struggle, and once I'd had release, I longed for nothing more than to be rid of my clothes, rid of Kirsten. "Can I take these off?" I asked. Lyn laughed. "Don't be ridiculous." "But Miss Lyn, it's not the same when-" "Then you have to get used to it. You are Kirsten, and you'll be used anyway I, or your wife, or your other friends see fit. But you are Kirsten to me. Get used to it." I sat back on the floor, defeated. "May I please dress?" I asked. "Of course. You have your snooker match to play." The match. I'd forgotten about that, and for a second wished I could remain in the office with Lyn. As I put my dress on, she removed her panties. "I'd like you to wear these," she said. "Put yours in your handbag. They're ruined until you wash them." I removed my panties. They were soaked in cum. She grinned. "They'll ruin your bag. How do you think you can clean them up?" I looked around. There was no sink. No cloths. "Come now, Kirsten," she smiled slyly. "I think you know better." I grimaced as I raised the panties to my lips and began to suck my own cum from them. "You little slut," Lyn chastised as I finished and placed the panties in my handbag. I pulled her wet panties on. They were a pretty good fit and my small, flaccid penis felt comfortable in the moistness. Lyn led me to the door. "Every Monday and Tuesday night you belong to me." FOURTEEN I didn't stand a chance in the game. I couldn't stop thinking about what Lyn had made me do, and the promises of nights to come. Tomorrow night, even. I was playing Steve, the Captain, but he was drunk and didn't recognise me. Lyn watched, sitting with the other women in my life, and I wondered what they were talking about, what secrets they were sharing about me. The plans they were making. I couldn't concentrate as I missed another shot. Lyn's panties were wet against my once docile penis. But it was starting to stir now and as I thought about her humiliating threats I began to harden and missed another shot. Steve potted the black. "And that's game," he declared. He considered me, eyes barely focussing. "You did okay for a chick. You know, there's something about your game..." "What's that?" I ask softly. It has to sound natural. Not too loud or hard edged. But not too much like you're trying to sound different or hiding your voice. "Yeah, you play like one of the guys off my team. Fancy a drink?" "Steve, she's off limits," Lyn called jokily. And, except for Steve, we all know what she means. Maggie smiled and nodded, indicating she was happy with my fate. Pippa just laughed. When it came to the club, no matter the night, I was Lyn's toy. She smiled at me, a cruel flicker dancing over her expression. And she intended to play with me a lot. FIFTEEN TUESDAY --- A TREAT FOR KIRSTEN When I woke I found a note from my wife. I was disappointed she'd left for her work trip without saying goodbye. Kirsten - I'm so proud of all you did yesterday. You were great. I know sometimes it's hard for you, and I know sometimes you struggle internally about who you are, what we do. We'll talk when I get back. And I'll want to hear all about your adventures - Always Your Love, Maggie. I read the letter a few times and was surprised I had tears in my eyes. I got out of bed. Dressed in jeans and a shirt. Commando. Except for the jeans there was nothing feminine about my clothes. I washed. No make-up. No perfume. This week, when I booked it off work, was supposed to be so I could dress as freely as I liked. After yesterday I was spent. As I chilled out, I wondered what Maggie had meant when she said I had to win two sporting events to make the next few days easier. What could they possibly do to me? The movie I was watching wasn't great and as I thought about my wife, my humiliating predicament that I secretly, perhaps even not so secretly, longed for, I found myself back in our bedroom. I was lucky to have a wife who encouraged me to dress. I was lucky she enjoyed playing games others might not even understand, or entertain the thought of, even if sometimes I was pushed into deep, unchartered territory. And I was definitely lucky she had created a close and trusted circle of friends who enjoyed playing with me. I read her note again and undressed. I can be conflicted about who I am, but bottom line, regardless of extremes, I am a cross-dresser and I love the feel of women's clothes. I put on underwear more suited to who I am. Slip inserts into my bra. I choose a light, patterned, sleeveless blouse with slight frills on the shoulder. Delicate material and soft colours. I used to be afraid of patterns and bold looks but my wife helped me to establish my personality in the way I dress and to escape the need for neutral colours. I found a pencil skirt to match and slid it up my smooth legs. Just that motion felt great; and then the openness, the lining, the ever so slightly revealing slit on the side. I longed for a breeze around my legs. I may sound strange but, despite what is happening, I still get afraid to go out alone. It's such a lonely experience. Nobody to really talk to, to laugh with.....Occasionally, I was laughed at when I first ventured out. I even vowed not to go again after that horrendous experience, but within months, following a pretty steep learning curve, my second attempt was much more successful. I smiled. In a way, Maggie's friends who have their fun and help enforce the humiliations and feminisation I endure, are a blessing. They are my girlfriends, too. I put on a pair of strappy, black heels, about 3 inches, and apply my make-up. I create a natural look. No foundation or concealer. For colour, a light brushing of bronzer and blusher. Eye shadow to match my top. Mascara and a soft toned lipstick. I find the Alice band Cindy gave me. It's colourful with a distinctive bow on the side. I pulled my hair into place and put it on. I check in the mirror and smiled. I look....Almost pretty. From behind I would pass. Maybe from the side, too. And from a distance. But up close. Probably not. Still, it's a nice look. It works. And, I might pass as a woman. I went downstairs - and stopped short. Cindy is waiting in the living room. "I didn't mean to startle you," she said. "How did you get in?" I asked. "Maggie gave us each a key so we could check in on you." She held up a girly calender, a butterfly motif with soft colours. Lots of pastel pink. It matched my work diary. She had removed it from the kitchen wall where it was always displayed. "I bet everybody that visits sees this," she grinned. Across the top, in clear, bright, pink, bubbly writing: KIRSTEN'S PERIOD TRACKER. There were clear indications of when I was on, when I should visit the store for feminine hygiene items, when I should be carrying them. "I bet your friends have seen it, and wondered: who is Kirsten?" Cindy observed. "No, they haven't." "Sure. And when they really think about it, there's only you and Maggie here." She said the next part very slowly. "So Kirsten must be you." She let the words sink in, and knew I was wondering about who might know. Or suspect, that I enjoyed girly things. Now every time I saw a friend I would be questioning if they had seen my period tracker, if they knew I had an affinity for.....anything feminine. It had always been there, but Cindy had put it crystal clear at the front of my mind. She put the tracker on the dining table with a smile. "Are you ready?" "I was just going to crash and watch a movie." Her jaw drops. "Girl, you don't crash dressed like that. You look fantastic. Grab your bag and let's go." SIXTEEN When I got in Cindy's car she told me how to. "Knees together. That's a simple little rule from now on. No matter what you are doing. Knees together." It felt unusual, sitting and then swinging my legs in together. I had already sometimes done it naturally, but being told to re-enforced my behaviour and the subtle humiliation of it. Cindy laughed. "You'll get used to it." Do I have to? I thought. All these little touches seemed to come to me so easily and naturally, no matter how I was dressed. Maggie told me the stance and posture I had used last night had to be maintained. Now the knees. It was going beyond just crossing my legs and sitting like a woman. It was habitual behaviour that would stick. "Here we are." I looked out from my reverie. It was my local Cineworld! "I can't go in there," I protested. "You can get in for free with your Unlimited card. Come on." She was already out of the car and I had to follow to hear her. I opened the door and- "Knees." -got out gracefully. She headed towards the doors. "But I don't look like my picture." I hurried to keep up. As fast as I could in the heels and still maintain a lady-like walk. "Kirsten, you look good. But I think they'll know it's you. If not, just tell them that you're a sissy." "But, I'm not. Can I just buy the tickets?" We're crossing the foyer now, towards a small queue. "Certainly not." We stand at the counter and wait our turn, the teenage girl working efficiently. I position my feet perfectly. "Good girl," Cindy whispered. The couple in front turn. They don't laugh or snigger at my stance. I've fooled them. But then a whisper: "That's a man." They left the counter, chuckling, and I moved along. "One for Bridget Jones please," I said in my best female voice. "Unlimited member?" "Yes." I passed my card over and the girl studied my photograph. She looked at me for what seemed like forever, A few more people joined our queue. She offered me a slight wink. "I'm sorry, Miss," she said, emphasising the gender, "but only the card holder can obtain a ticket." I swallowed deeply, aware people were growing impatient behind me. They were going to laugh at me and there was nothing I could do to stop it. "But that is me," I said quietly. "I'm sorry, Miss...." "Kirsten," I said, desperately torn between my image and giving myself away. She considered my skirt and blouse. My make-up and shoes. My handbag and purse. "Kirsten, I'm going to call my manager." She spoke into a walkie-talkie and asked me to stand on one side. I adopted my feminine stance, feet at just the right angle to emphasise my butt and legs. Cindy purchased her ticket. "I'll see you inside," she told me. "Will you please get me some popcorn?" "Kirsten, your wife said you're watching your figure. I'll get you a diet drink." I stood and waited and that last comment about me having a wife had all the other patrons looking at me as they passed. Some maintained their composure, others laughed. The spotlight was well and truly on me and all I could do was wait for the manager. "How much longer will it be?" I asked uncomfortably. "Sorry, I thought you liked the attention," a voice said behind me. I spun. The manager was in her early twenties. Blonde hair tied back in pony-tails. Cute and attractive. And look at me. If I was single I wouldn't stand a chance with her. "No, I-" "But you must to go out dressed like that. You must love people staring at you. Do you want to talk here, Kirsten, or in my office?" I thought about what happened with Lyn in an office the night before. But obviously that kind of thing couldn't happen here. Could it? These are the doubts I live with. What will people think? What will they do to me? "Please may we go in your office. I don't like standing here." She considered me a moment, torturing me until the final patrons left the counter, sniggering at me. "This way." As she led me to a room behind the popcorn counter she continued: "You know, the holder of this card could be banned for using it." "But you know it's my card," I protested. "So you keep insisting.....Kirsten." "I just want to watch the film with my friend." She closed the door. She looked me up and down. Considered the male photograph on the card. "Take off your skirt." "I'm sorry?" "Take off your skirt now, Kirsten. It's the only way I can be sure." I looked around. Helpless. At the mercy of the manager. "There's nobody here but me. Now. Lower your skirt or I'll have you working the popcorn counter in your underwear." "You can't do that. You'd be sacked." "It would be worth it to humiliate a sissy like you." I recognised the unforgiving tone and slowly lowered the skirt to my ankles. My panties are tented out. "Now your panties." "But you can see-" "Take off your panties!" I'm was startled by her tone and volume and quickly pulled my panties down. I stood before her. She didn't even register my erection. I tried to push it out. My erection stiffened and.......She laughed. "Put your clit away. Get dressed before you make a mess in my office." I pulled my panties up, and then my skirt. She escorted me back to the teenage girl, who had a small queue again. "Please get this sissy her ticket," she clearly instructed for all to hear. I didn't protest. I let the other patrons giggle at me. Sometimes people may perceive me that way, and that's fine, I guess. But I hate the word, all it stands for. I am a man, I told myself. Even as they laughed at me. I am a man. SEVENTEEN I walked through the auditorium, relieved, even though people stared and pointed as I searched for Cindy. I can walk confidently in heels, but did almost trip on a step, drawing more attention to me. I slumped into my seat next to her, sinking as l