Changing Places free porn video

Changing Places by Caroline J. Bradley Chris Chris Markham closed the door having waved his wife goodbye. She was off on a two-week business trip to the USA and the taxi had called at their house in West London to take her to Heathrow Airport. Her work as an investment banker in the City of London was taking more and more of her time and meant that she was away from home often, a dedication to work that had grown exponentially after she had learned that her painful periods were the result of endometriosis. After a few years of trying many treatments, they had agreed to the hysterectomy and the inevitable consequence of a life without children. Christine, Chris's wife, had initially fought to retain her interest in sex and had taken hormone replacement therapy to help her body get over the premature menopause. This had waned in time and her increasing success at the bank, coupled with long work hours, meant that their life as husband and wife, whilst happy and full of fun, was largely without sex. Chris was philosophical about events. He was a relatively successful graphic artist working for a small company specialising in illustrating children's books. Christine's frequent absences had allowed him to enjoy his passion of cross dressing which he found relaxed him from the stresses of daily life. Over time, his experiments in dressing and makeup had led to his developing elements of his own wardrobe as he sought the elusive goal of looking feminine. Luckily, he was roughly the same build as his wife and, as Christine had become more and more involved in her job, her choice of clothes became increasingly plain and severe. This meant that her plentiful wardrobe of dresses, skirts and blouses were almost exclusively worn by Chris in the evenings and weekends when his wife was working. Chris had used the time leading up to his wife's latest business trip to prepare for the opportunity to dress almost every evening and sometimes across the weekends when his wife was working. He had ordered a new wig from mail order and shoes to match Christine's red shift dress which he had altered at a local cleaner to accommodate his larger stomach and shoulders. He had also braved the counters at Marks & Spencer to acquire new underwear to go with the new outfit; these, together with some sheer tights (pantyhose) his outfit for the weekend was ready. Christine had left early on a Friday morning so, with plenty of time before he needed to leave for the office, Chris ran a hot bath and sank into its warm embrace. He kept his body hair under control, but he did not want his wife to suspect, so he could not keep himself totally hairless. Now he took a fresh Ladyshave razor and a tub of feminine shaving gel and methodically removed the growth on his legs, underarms and from his arms and around his pubic region. Stepping out of the bath, he towelled himself off, loving the smooth feel of his legs, before he rubbed himself all over with a lightly perfumed body moisturiser. The sensual feel of the cream and the thoughts of his forthcoming excitement made his penis grow rapidly - taking a handful of cream he massaged his manhood with increasing vigour until, with a grunt, he shot his load into the bathtub. With the warm feeling slowly dying, Chris cleaned himself up and carefully covered his now shrinking member in baby powder. Walking through to the bedroom he selected a pair of new white knickers from his secret cache and stepped into them - he had already raided his wife's toiletry drawers and selected a sanitary towel for heavy flow. This he stuck into the knickers' gusset and, arranging himself between his legs, pulled the underwear up tight. He always felt that a panty liner helped absorb the occasional pre-cum from his penis and also provided a more feminine shape to his groin. Next, a pair of sheer flesh-coloured tights. The sensation of the sheer lycra/nylon mix on his freshly- shaved legs always brought a thrill and he felt his manhood re-awaken. Not now, he thought. A soft white bra and a smooth satin camisole top finished off the preparation, glancing at his reflection in the full-length mirror he could see the shape of things to come, but time was moving on and he had to get ready for work. Putting a light makeup case, some sandals with a 3" heel and a light brown wig into a carrier bag, he lifted a smart black dress and jacket on its hanger. These he placed carefully in his car's luggage compartment. Fortunately, his work allowed for Fridays to be a "dress down day." So, a medium-weight shirt would cover the outline of the bra and camisole top and loose-fitting trousers would hide the changed shape of his groin. He always wore his hair long, ever since student days, and had often experimented with more feminine styles. His plans for the weekend were to try some other styles out but, for now, he pulled his hair back into a pony-tail and secured it with a rubber band. The harsh material of the checked work shirt and chinos felt strange over the soft materials close to his skin, but with long socks and loafers, it was impossible to tell that this masculine exterior hid a very feminine foundation. Now off to work, it was a short drive in the West London traffic to his offices - he had a fairly quiet day ahead. Arriving early, as he always did, he secreted the dress and jacket on its hanger into the back of a small cupboard away from his workstation where a few coats were always left. This being summer he thought no- one would bother to go in there. The bag containing the rest of his accessories he put into his large filing cabinet which was always locked. The morning passed uneventfully. His company, a publishing and artwork house, was busy and he had helped corner a major account by illustrating children's books. He was working to finish one of a long series and was absorbed in some very detailed drawings, nevertheless he kept an eye on the time and moved quickly for the door when lunchtime arrived. Chris had planned to window shop around the main piazza and then buy some essential toiletries for the weekend ahead. He had often bought feminine items from the local shops and they were always helpful, so there was no embarrassment. Passing one of the boutiques he noticed a gorgeous light blue dress with matching jacket, the price tag revealed it was in the sale so he quickly went in and found the dress. They had it in his size - a good omen for the weekend ahead. He had just finished paying for the dress when he felt a light touch on his arm. "Well, Chris, that looks very pretty. I wish more men would buy clothes like that for their better halves." It was Linda from the office, a well-known man-eater. "Er, well, Christine said that she had seen this last week and I agreed to pick it up for her," Chris stammered. At that moment the sales girl handed him the carrier bag with the dress and said that she hoped the dress would be enjoyed. Walking out with Linda from the shop, they chatted amiably about men and women, Chris could not help noticing Linda's wide-eyed inquisitive look. Heading back towards the office, his eyes took in the busy streets with smartly-dressed businesswomen shopping and chatting. The unseasonably warm weather meant that many of them, including Linda, were in short dresses exposing long legs and bare arms. Walking along toward the office, with the views all around him, Chris felt his penis awakening. He often got a hard-on when shopping for women's clothes and the combination of his tight underwear, the prospects of trying on the new dress and Linda's frank attentions were having an arousing effect. Before long, the movement and rubbing caused by the walking were too much and he knew he was going to come at any moment. Fortunately, Linda stopped to admire an item in a nearby shop window and Chris felt release as he pumped his excitement into his underwear. "Are you alright, you look a little flushed?" Linda touched his arm and looked genuinely concerned. "No, I'm fine, it's probably the hot weather and all these pretty girls," Chris joked. Now walking a little more carefully, he could feel the dampness in his groin and wondered if this was what women felt when their periods overflowed. He realised that he needed to get himself cleaned up and that he did not have fresh underwear - he did not want to get a tell- tale mark on his trousers, nor on his dress - Bill Clinton had a lot to answer for! Making his excuses, he went into a supermarket and purchased some new panty liners before going into Marks & Spencer and picking out a new pair of blue knickers which should match his new dress beautifully. Picking up a matching bra to complete the ensemble, he returned to the office without incident and reached the men's room with his new purchases. Taking off trousers, socks, shoes and tights, he gingerly pulled down the semen-covered knickers. Fortunately, the panty-liner had done its job and the mess was contained to the knickers and had not leaked elsewhere. Cleaning himself up as much as he could, he donned the new knickers and, with fresh sanitary protection, redressed. The question was what to do with the soiled sanitary towel, he guessed that the women's toilet has special disposal bins but here, well, he grimaced and thrust it down the toilet hoping that the flush would take it away - it did. The afternoon rumbled on; Chris was getting on well with a new series of illustrations for a children's book series on Benjamin Rabbit. He had noticed before that his style changed subtly if he was "en femme" and, as this was the plan for the weekend, his drawings were clearly softer and fluffier. The usual bustle of a busy publisher's office was punctuated with an unusual series of rapid closing of senior manager's doors and frequent hushed discussions. Chris took no notice as he was in a reverie with his work and thoughts for the weekend. Quitting time came, and went, being a Friday most of the office staff left promptly, but the senior managers were still ensconced in their meeting room with closed doors. Chris was beginning to wonder whether his plans for going home that evening "en femme" needed reconsidering when he heard an outburst from the boardroom and the directors all walked out stony-faced, grabbed their bags and left. The company Chairman, David Broad, slowly walked out of the room, saw Chris, smiled wanly and he too left. It was now 6.15pm and Chris stopped work and signed off his PC. Carefully checking the office to ensure he was the last one left; he then retrieved the dress and jacket from the cupboard and his bag of "goodies" from the locked filing cabinet. Taking his case from his desk and clearing up for the weekend, he walked over to the Ladies toilet and entered. The soft lighting and the feminine pastel shades quickly put him in the mood, he spotted a sanitary towel disposal bin and smiled to himself- he could have done with that earlier today! The tampon dispenser caught his eye, being an equal opportunity employer, his company obviously provided everything - and these were free. Interested, he actuated the dispenser and looked at the resulting paper-covered tube. Well, he had made a mess of his sanitary towel earlier, maybe he needed some more protection! Removing his shirt, shoes, trouser and socks he pulled two breast forms from the carrier bag and inserted them snugly into the warm embrace of his bra. Jiggling them in the mirror to ensure they were aligned and even, he then took out the wig and gave it a thorough brushing before pulling it over his hair and securing with a few strategically placed clips. The auburn curls framed his face in a cascade of soft hair and he smiled at the effect in the mirror. Next some light make-up; some black mascara, grey eyeshadow, blusher and a ruby lipstick - he was happy with the result knowing that he had all weekend to perfect his appearance and try different make-up. For tonight, he just wanted to look like a busy working girl heading home for the weekend. Finishing off with a simple gold necklace and bracelet, he zippered up the dress and slipped into the shoes and tidied up the reminders of his male existence into the carrier bag. Remembering the tampon, he unwrapped it and, taking the bottle of hand moisturiser from the wash basin, slipped into one of the stalls. Pulling down tights and knickers, he first relieved himself sitting down before moistening his fingers with the fluid and carefully rubbing the smooth moisturiser around his anus. Applying more to the tip of the tampon, he slowly inserted it into his rectum and removed the applicator. Taking some toilet tissue, he wiped his bottom and, rearranging his penis, slipped it back into the warm embrace of the knickers and panty liner before pulling up his tights. The tight feel of the tampon in his rectum made him feel both odd and good. Standing up in the stall, he smoothed the contours of the black dress over his thighs and was just about to open the door when he heard the outer door to the ladies toilet open. He froze as he heard Linda's voice. "It's all clear, although I don't remember Chris going home." "It's a first for me in a ladies loo." It was the unmistakable voice of the Chairman, David Broad. Chris heard the door close and then the unmistakable sounds of kissing interspersed with zips being pulled down and clothing discarded. Before long, the rhythmic sound of movement and Linda's groans were superimposed on male grunting noises rising in intensity. Chris sat down carefully on the toilet seat and waited for the inevitable crescendo, which came with a surprising cacophony of sound. In the aftermath, the voices resumed. "Well, David, tell me, what's been going on this week. Why all the clandestine meetings?" It was Linda's wheedling tone. "I cannot really say, my love, let's just agree to keep things quiet." "How dare you treat me like a simple lay. I want to know what's going on, you can't just have your way with me and then ..." "Hold it, who said this was anything more than a mutual thing?" "You bastard, either treat me like a human being or the rest of the office and your wife will get to know what a philanderer their boss really is." Linda was spitting fury. From behind the now locked door of the cubicle, Chris heard the toilet door slam shut and Linda's quiet sobs start. After a few minutes he heard the sound of running water and then, without warning, the door handle of his cubicle turned and stopped as it hit against the lock. He heard a sharp intake of breath and then: - "Is there anyone in there? Come on, I know this cannot lock by itself, who is it? Suzy, Jane, come on." The door rattled hard and Chris saw the lock move. Linda repeated her accusation, then pulled hard on the door and it swung open. "What, who.....Chris??" Linda stood, dishevelled and with mascara rubbed under her eyes from crying. "Chris, what the hell is this?" Realisation dawned in Linda's eyes. "So the dress today, it was for you? You a closet gay or something?" Chris stammered a response, but Linda cut him short. "You heard all of that?" Chris nodded. "So we each have a little secret? Come on, let me see you then." With that, Chris stepped out of the cubicle and, to encouraging noises from Linda, paraded a little for her to see. "You're very good, it's tough to pass in this light, but I bet you no- one would give a second look in the street. Listen, what you get up to is none of my concern, but I would be grateful if you kept quiet about what you heard earlier. I know I've got a reputation as an easy lay, but I'm not really like that and David had been coming on to me for a few months." Linda smiled and then turned to the mirror and started to repair her make-up, Chris watched and then, looking at his own reflection, got out his lipstick and touched-up the corners. He could see Linda watching him out of the corner of his eye and realised that, to a casual observer, this would look like two office girls fixing their make-up together. "I've got to take a leak and then we could walk down to the parking lot together." Linda smiled, got a tampon from the dispenser and disappeared into a stall. Emerging a few minutes later, the two gathered their belongings and walked to the elevator in silence. The underground garage was deserted and the klick of their heels on the concrete echoed from the far wall, they reached Linda's car first. "Chris, is that you name now, or do you use another when you're dressed up?" "No, Chris is easier." "Chris, most women don't like me because they see me as a threat. Most men don't like me for the same reason and, ever since I've split from my husband, it's been tough finding friends. I don't pretend to understand what you are doing, or why, but if you need someone to talk to - you know where I am." "Thanks," Chris said. Linda smiled wanly. "By the way, I love the black dress and jacket. Did you get it over at Marsha's?" "No, at Fenwick's in the Sale." "It really looks good on you, and I mean it." Linda smiled and pecked Chris on the cheek, clambered into her car and drove off. Chris stepped over to his car, opened the door and placed the carrier bag and his briefcase onto the rear seat. Remembering what he was wearing, he sat demurely onto the driver's seat and swung his legs in. Closing the door, he readjusted the seat position to take account of the 3" heels and checked the rear-view mirror. Staring back at him was an attractive auburn-haired woman, subtly made-up. Primping his hair as he had seen women do, he started the car up and drove home, thinking of his encounter with Linda and the possible implications. Arriving home, he parked the car on the driveway and strode purposefully to the front door, the hem of the dress reminding him to take shorter, more feminine steps. Indoors, he flitted about the house, fixing a small salad, before going upstairs and hanging both his male outerwear and his dress and jacket. He ran a hot bath whilst removing the rest of his clothes and then shaved his face very closely with a fresh razor. From his cache of feminine accoutrements, he removed a large bottle of hair remover, liberally spreading the strong-smelling gel over his arms, legs and torso - being careful to avoid his delicate penile skin. Waiting for the gel to take effect, he removed a bottle of hair dye and got out his collection of hair gels and curlers. With the 10 minutes up, he got into the shower stall and washed off the hair remover. Stepping out whilst still wet, he adored the tingling feeling from the removal of the last vestiges of hair growth that he had not managed to shave off that morning. Stepping into the luxuriously hot bath, he added a generous handful of Chanel number 19 bath oil and felt his soft smooth skin as it absorbed the sensual odours. His hair was long-enough to experiment with styles, but he had noticed advertisements in Christine's women's magazines showing temporary hair colourants. He had bought three in varying shades of blonde, from dark to light and he carefully scrutinised the packaging. They seemed easy enough, so he chose a darker ash blonde to match his skin tones and assiduously followed the instructions, paying particular attention to the roots and to his pubic hairs! The final rinse over, he glimpsed at himself in the mirror seeing a hairless male in the bath with long, blonde hair, blonde eyebrows and blonde pubes!! The towel felt soft against his glowing skin as he first dried himself and rubbed in Chanel's number 19 body gel. A generous dusting of perfumed talc finished the drying and he pulled on a pair of fresh, pink knickers - pulling his manhood between his legs. This was always the best part of dressing up, the hours of pampering and preparation before the final revelation. Like a chrysalis before it becomes a butterfly. Wrapping his still-wet hair in a towel, as he had seen Christine do, he then concentrated to his breast forms. Carefully cleansing the silicone face of each he cleaned his chest with spirit and, choosing a soft bra, fitted it carefully to ensure the position of the breasts would be just right. Spraying the back of each with silicone adhesive, he carefully applied each to his chest whilst nestling them into the welcoming caps of the bra. A few seconds and the adhesive had set and he carefully removed the bra, exhilarating in the tugging sensation that the breast forms exerted on his bare chest. He then ensured that all of the forms' edges were well stuck down before replacing the bra and pulling on a warm, pink towelling bathrobe. Next, he took his manicure set from his hidden cache and walked into the bedroom where he turned his attention to his toenails. Shaping and cutting carefully, he applied a clear base coat followed by two coats of a dark ruby red. The final part of tonight's preparation was his fingernails. Shaping his own nails first, he then selected a fresh set of acrylic tips and matched them carefully before applying the glue and shaping each to a perfect length - not too long, but exquisitely feminine. Base coat was followed by two top coats to match his toenails and a final diamond-hard clear top-coat to seal. Chris was now ready for bed, it was late in the evening and, like all good girls he finished drying his hair with his legs curled under him as he nibbled some salad and drank a glass of chilled wine. Long soft tresses of ash blonde hair framed his face as he brushed his hair in front of the mirror. He would spend time styling it properly tomorrow but for tonight, he carefully pulled it back off his face and secured it with an "Alice" band. One of Christine's face mask pots was pulled out from its drawer and, after careful cleansing using the new Clarin's cleanser, Chris applied the mask and felt it set gently on his face. He moved carefully so as not to disturb the mask as he shrugged off the bathrobe and took off his bra. The weight of his synthetic breasts felt really good as he moved over to the wardrobe and selected a long peach nightdress from the cupboard. Stepping into the layers of nylon he felt goose bumps as the material touched his hairless torso and legs, pulling the shoulder straps up the scalloped front of the nightgown gave slender support to his unaccustomedly heavy breasts. He lay back on the bed and closed his eyes, starting to daydream about the prospects of the next day when his reverie was shattered by the insistent ringing of the telephone, it was Christine 'phoning from the States. Christine Christine waved goodbye to Chris and watched him from the back of the taxi as he disappeared into the house. She sighed, her work was taking her away from home more and more and she knew she and Chris were drifting apart. But her work was so important and so challenging, ever since they had realised that children weren't an option in their marriage, Chris had thrown herself into the bank. The hysterectomy had been a turning point, she had kept up the pills and potions for a while as the doctors and counsellors had made it clear that an early menopause could mean their sex life would suffer. But the hormones had messed her up, and Chris hadn't seemed very interested, so she just kept up the calcium for her bones and their sex life slowly drifted away. She knew Chris was getting his kicks some other way. She could tell. Earlier in their relationship, he had started to try to pep up their lovemaking by his wearing her underwear and, later, her skirts. It didn't do much for her, but he enjoyed it and she wanted to keep him happy. More recently, she was convinced he had a lover, but she never saw anything to suspect him and, whenever she had 'phoned when she was away, he was always there. The answer came to her one weekend when she came home early, Chris was clearly flustered when she walked in and later, she found signs of her wardrobe being messed up and Chris acted really strangely when they went to bed that evening. When she challenged him on his actions, he was evasive until she noticed that his legs and body were recently shaved and he had painted toenails. They shouted and rowed, and it came out that he dressed up in women's clothes. She didn't understand and got some comfort from his promises that it was no more than just dressing up, no sex and he did not fancy men. Now, driving to Heathrow to catch her flight to Washington, she knew he would be spending the time dressed, they had a sort of understanding - she did not ask and he did not volunteer. After all, he was a good bloke and they had fun in the brief moments they had together. Her work took her away a lot and it meant a lot to her, after all this trip could get her onto the Board if she and her useless boss could land the Pan Arab Bank financing deal. Her mind moved onto work and she did not think any more until, guiltily, she 'phoned home to talk to Chris just to say all was well. Chris Hanging up from the Transatlantic call, Chris returned to the dressing table and removed the face mask gel. It left his skin feeling smooth and supple. He delved into his cache of cosmetics and removed a large container of gel originally prescribed for Christine as part of her hormone replacement therapy. Fortunately, the hormonal gel was a repeat prescription for Christine and Chris had managed to get the new prescription refilled frequently. He had regularly applied the gel to his face, paying particular attention to the beard area. Over the months, his beard had reduced significantly and, with experience, he knew that more frequent, even daily, application could reduce the growth almost to nothing. One the gel was fully absorbed, he chose Olay's night active moisturiser and applied it liberally. It was already past midnight and he gave his hair a final brush before turning off the light and getting into bed. Carefully arranging his hair over the soft pillow and pulling his long nightgown down around his ankles he slowly drifted into a gentle slumber, dreaming of tomorrow. He awoke with a start; someone was knocking on the front door. He sat up in bed and saw his reflection in the mirror. The person looking back at him was an attractive woman with a mane of blonde hair in need of some therapy with her brush. He got up and brushed his hair quickly, threw the towelling bathrobe over his nightgown and ran downstairs. Clearing his throat, he pitched his voice to a high tone he had practiced before and called out tremulously, "Who is it?" With some relief, a male voice called back, "Florists." Chris opened the door and demurely signed for the bouquet, noticing the admiring glance of the delivery man. Chris read the message - it was from Linda - "Thank you for last night, call me if you want to talk" - no wonder the delivery driver grinned. Chris went back upstairs, took a very hot shave to remove any small residue of facial hair and then showered using the hormone gel all over. Towelling off, he realised that he needed the toilet and was surprised when the pressure was relieved by the release of a swollen tampon from his rectum. He had forgotten it was there and the removal of the pressure felt odd. He checked Christine's store and was disappointed to find the cupboard bare. He made a mental note to add tampons to his shopping list. Fresh white knickers protected by a thin panty liner and nestling his breasts into the welcoming cups of an underwired, white soft bra started his morning preparation. With the radio playing gentle classical music, he pulled on a white satin wrap and sat in front of the mirror, the hairdryer with diffuser and curling tongs ready. He shook out his long ash-blonde hair and massaged in setting lotions. Much practice made easy the task of rolling his hair into the large foam rollers and, with smaller rollers on the hair at the front of his face, he finished the preparation in 30 minutes. He now had to wait 20 minutes or so for the setting lotion to work. With the allotted time over, he gently unrolled each portion, enjoying the view in the mirror as the hair bounced into large, fluffy curls. Brushing, combing and drying brought the curls under control and he soon had the effect he wanted - a soft cascade of hair framing his face and neck down to his shoulders. The weather forecast had been fairly good for a weekend in August in Southern England. Chris chose light make-up with a matte light cover foundation, taupe eyeshadow and his lower lids highlighted with a light brown pencil, he applied brown mascara. Accentuating his eyebrow shape with a deeper brown shade, he frowned into the mirror as he plucked out some rogue hairs to help develop a feminine arch. A mulberry lipstick lined with a darker pencil, pink blusher and a light dusting of translucent face powder finished the face. Chris admired his reflection, touching up spots on his forehead with more powder and fussing some more with his hair before securing it in place with some light hair spray. Now for jewellery. Chris had amassed some of his own, particularly clip-on earrings. He had never plucked up the courage to have his ears pierced, but his collection included some very sexy dangly gold numbers. For today, he chose a pair of simple false pearl studs which had their posts removed. With care and acrylic cement, he attached a pearl globe to each ear lobe and held it in place until it stayed put. He had tried this before and, whilst he felt vulnerable to losing a pearl, he had not been embarrassed yet. A gold chain around his neck and gold bracelet were complemented with Christine's Gucci watch, which fitted his wrists. Rings were, however, a perennial problem. Chris' hands weren't excessively large, but none of his wife's rings fitted and he had only bought a few adjustable rings which were not very satisfactory. He had secreted a few of Christine's rings when he noticed that she had stopped wearing them; under the guise of buying a ring for himself, he had discerned his ring sizes and had taken 3 of Christine's gold rings to a local jeweller for resizing. Today's adventure was to collect these and do a little window shopping in the local mall. With the preparation over, Chris pulled on his favourite item of foundation wear, a fabulous shaper which improved his waist and gave a great shape to his hips and bottom. Unless he wore a shapeless dress, which he did when he wanted the feeling of freedom, the shaper was mandatory. Now ready and shaped, he walked to the wardrobe and chose a mid-length floral pattern dress in browns and greens. Slipping it on and pulling up the zip, he smoothed the dress down over his now flat stomach and critically appraised the view - stockings or not? It was warm enough to go without and his legs looked shiny from the pampering of last evening. Unconvinced, he selected a pair of 7 denier tights in champagne and pulled them on over the shaper and under the dress - that was better! Sensible, 2" heel tan sandals allowed his pedicured toenails to be seen through the toe of the shoes. With a final touch up of make-up and hair, he pulled on a short green tailored jacket and selected one of Christine's favourite Prada handbags. He filled the handbag with compact, lipstick and tissues; a new pair of tights and a purse. Emptying his own wallet of cash, he put the funds into the purse and opened a flap from the back of his clothes cache. He had added a Visa card in Christine's name onto his own account and ensured that the bills were addressed to him, this gave him a credit card to use when "en femme." Admiring his reflection, twirling and pirouetting in front of the mirror to get his skirts to float, he felt wonderful and released. He almost skipped down the stairs, grabbed a bite of cereal and, with a final check in the mirror, he grabbed the car keys and walked out into the sunshine of, what was now, a Saturday afternoon. It was a quiet neighbourhood and no-one had ever commented to him, he drove gently into the town, smiling sweetly as harassed fathers in the family car let him pull out in front of them. Parking up in the mall multi- storey, he grabbed the handbag and donned the jacket, a check of his make-up and into the shops. The click of his heels on the pavement were a lovely sound to match the feel of the dress as it moved against his nylon clad legs. The sway of his blonde hair in the light afternoon breeze felt good and he caught sight of himself as he walked past the shop windows, a pretty woman with lovely blonde hair off on a shopping trip. He walked into the jewellers and presented the salesgirl with the slip for the rings. She brought them rapidly and encouraged Chris to try them on. The fit was perfect and, wordlessly, Chris indicated that he would keep them on. Paying with his Visa card, he signed his normal signature which matched the card, smiling as the printout read Mrs. Christine Markham. He was admiring his newly adorned fingers when his eye caught a gorgeous sparkling ring in the shop's display. "That is a lovely ring, you would never know that the stones were not diamonds, but it is a real emerald. I'm sure we have your size, would you like to try it on?" The salesgirl quickly brought the right size ring and Chris tried it on the left-hand ring finger, it sparkled and looked fabulous - it was irresistible and Chris walked out of the store ?300 lighter but admiring the delights of a wonderful array of the jeweller's art. Chris flitted from store to store, stocking up on essentials such as tampons and some new make-up. These were easy purchases as Chris was not sure that his voice would "pass"; but as time passed and he felt more and more secure he became braver and eventually walked into a few of the more exclusive boutiques. In one, the rails of designer suits beckoned and Chris admired a black short skirt suit which he noticed was in his size. The shop assistant was insistent that it was a "perfect for madam" and he was ushered into a changing booth - this was a first for him. Excited, he slipped off the jacket and the dress when the assistant pulled aside the curtain and asked if everything was alright - Chris almost collapsed with fright, but the assistant did not bat an eyelid. The suit looked good on Chris, but was not quite right and he tried on a number of different outfits before walking out of the store unsuccessful. He had never enjoyed his time more and he shopped with a vengeance, eventually buying a sexy long blue velvet dress and a short black leather skirt. Laden with carrier bags, Chris returned to the car and drove home in a blissful daze. Walking through the front door, he quickly hung up his purchases and kicked off his shoes - he really knew the meaning of the phrase "my feet are killing me." Then his 'phone rang. "Chris, hi, its, er, it's Linda." The voice at the other end was tremulous and seemed close to tears. Chris recalled the flowers he had received that morning and felt a pang of guilt for not responding. "Hi, how did you get my number? Listen, thanks for the flowers - I've been out all day," Chris stammered. "I'm sorry but I pulled a few strings to get your mobile number - I hope you don't mind me 'phoning you, but after yesterday and, well..." Linda's voice trailed off to an embarrassed silence, "I need to talk to someone and, well you were the first to spring to mind - is it convenient, is your wife there, I can call back..." Linda was clearly in a state. "No, it's fine, what's up?" Chris regretted the conciliatory tone as soon as he had said the words. "I can't talk over the 'phone, can we meet?" "Well, not really, it's not easy." Chris' mind raced to a whole panoply of possibilities, many wholly confusing. "Just for half an hour, I really need to talk to someone from the office. I've just had a run in with David Broad and he's told me a lot about what's happening at the company - and I don't know what to do." Chris' interest was piqued, without thinking he said, "OK just half an hour then, when and where?" "How about the coffee bar in the shopping arcade just by the office entrance, say at 5pm? Thanks, you don't know what it means to me." Before Chris could respond the line went dead, 5pm was only 40 minutes away and it would take 25 minutes to drive there and park. Well, what the hell. Then he realised what he was wearing, Linda had seen him last night "en femme" but that was different from the fully-dressed state he was now in. He couldn't risk being spotted so close to the office in broad daylight - it was another matter sneaking out and driving off in the dark as he had done last evening. Thinking quickly, he ran upstairs and quickly selected some smart trousers from his wardrobe but rapidly abandoned the idea when he could not get them on over his hips, removing the shaper underwear he pulled on a loose-fitting pair of jogging pants and some Timberland shoes. Realising that the hair and make-up was a dead give-away, he rapidly applied moisturiser and wiped off the majority of his make-up, a quick face-wash and application of special eye make-up remover cleared the majority of the colour. Bracelet, necklace and rings followed and, wincing at the pain, he pulled off the stuck-on pearl earrings. His hair was more of a problem, but pulling it back into an elastic band he hid most of it under a baseball cap. The stuck-on breast forms were also a problem, he had taken a lot of time and effort to get them just right and he did not want to have the problem of getting them off. Rummaging in Christine's wardrobe, he found a silk camisole top which was at least 2 sizes too small. Removing his bra, he pulled on the camisole and then donned a loose-fitting shapeless jumper. The overall effect was helped by a pair of sunglasses over his eyes and his reflection in the mirror was of an androgynous person whose painted fingernails were the only clear signs of femininity. He quickly removed the nail varnish, leaving the long nails clear and unpolished, grabbed car keys and his purse from the handbag and ran out of the house. The drive to the caf? was uneventful and he luckily found a parking space close to the entrance, checking his reflection in the mirror he got out and locked the car. Linda was already sat at a quiet table with a glass in front of her. "Sorry I'm late, what's the problem?" Chris asked. "Here, I'll get a coffee, you look a little different from last night." Linda gave a wan smile and proceeded to pour out her heart. It transpired that David Broad had persuaded her to meet him that morning and he had tried to keep their relationship going on the basis that their company was about to be taken over and that he could keep her job open for her, in return for "favours." She had told him to *** off. "I don't know what to do now, she cried - we all might be out of a job." Chris put a comforting arm on her shoulder, too late he noticed the fingernails and she took his hand and inspected the manicure. "Well, you have been busy. A nice job." She smiled at him and looked him over carefully. "What had you planned for the weekend? Sorry, none of my business and thanks for coming to talk to me, did I interrupt anything?" Chris smiled. "Listen, don't worry about me, what about the job. Do you know when they propose to announce the news?" "Apparently, emails are set to go out late Sunday to all employees asking them not to come in to work, but to telephone their manager on Monday morning at set times." "The bastards, what do they think they're doing. I guess the new company just wants the assets without the personnel. They must be calculating our severance pay right now - but what about the work in progress, how will they get it done or don't they care?" Chris was getting angry. "Apparently, they may keep some key staff on to finish contracts, the new owners just want to shut us down - it is McCane and Co., our principal rivals." Linda was looking worried. "I need to get my files and copy my hard disk before they close the place down. At least I could go freelance and I'd need an admin assistant." Chris mused, but how to get in without being noticed - the security was fairly basic but videos were set to record movement out- of-hours. "Linda, will you help. It's now 6.00pm, we need to get into the office tonight and do some work without being recognised. You know, now, that I can make myself look quite different, do you have something you could use as a disguise?" Linda thought for a while and then nodded. "Yes, my brother's got some of his clothes left at my apartment" They parted, agreeing to meet outside the basement car park at 9.00pm. Chris rushed home and quickly replaced all of the body shaping underwear and make-up, he then rummaged through his secret store and extracted an old, very long, blonde wig, and some clothing. If he was to appear on the security video, he wanted to be sure he could not be recognised, so he decided to dress in the tartiest manner possible. Chris met Linda at the basement car park as agreed, she had on a faded pair of black jeans and a jumper with her hair swept up in a baseball cap. A complete absence of make-up was offset by an elegant moustache and glasses. Linda shrieked when she saw Chris get out of the car. With blonde hair falling in waves down to a clearly visible and ample cleavage, a tight white halter-neck top and micro-mini black leather skirt, fishnet tights and thigh-length black patent boots, Chris looked as if he'd just stepped from the red-light district. His waist clincher had been pulled as tight as it would go, giving him a 26" waist, which had been very uncomfortable in the car. "Jesus, Chris, you look incredible. If I didn't know better, I'd be jealous of your figure. How do you do it?" Linda gasped. "Don't worry, this is an old outfit; I've never been brave enough to go out in this but I bet no-one recognizes me on a video." Chris' crimson lips smiled and his false eyelashes fluttered demurely. They crossed to the entrance to the lift, Chris answering Linda's many questions on why he dressed up and how he got the figure. Linda admitted she enjoyed the female experience of make-up and clothes, but had always thought cross-dressers were gay and only wanted to attract men. They chatted about clothes, fashions and sizes briefly until the lift arrived. "The video will kick in when we enter the lift, but it's vision only - I know, I've seen some of the replays when we were burgled last year." The door slid open and they walked in. When the door closed, Chris was surprised by Linda grabbing him and smothering him in a powerful full mouth kiss, tongue included. Reaching the desired floor, the door opened and they parted. "That will give them something to look at." Linda smiled, "you better go the ladies and fix your lipstick, tramp." Chris did as he was told, returning to join Linda outside the main door to the office suite. "Now, the entrance code is standard for everyone, but there is the three-digit access code into the main office which is unique." Chris entered the first code and they walked into the dimly lit reception area. "Wait here, the main files are behind the front desk and there's a good chance someone will always forget their number, I know, I've often been on the desk when this has happened...Ah here we are. Oh, Joy, David's number." Linda entered the MD's access code and the main office door unlocked and the lights came on. Mindful of the video security system, they walked over to the MD's office and booted up his computer, gaining access to the server. David had not used a password to protect his files, or data access, so they found Chris' archived work and rapidly copied it to a memory stick. To escape detection, they also copied the current work files from every station and emailed it to a secure Hotmail address they set up. Data transfer completed, Chris needed to retrieve his hard copy drawings from his desk, which was in full view of one of the video cameras. Quick thinking brought a coat over the camera lens and Chris pulled out his main work, copied it on the huge colour copier which was always running, and returned the copies to his files - keeping the originals. The work needed to get everything copied meant many trips to and from the copy room. The tight constraint of the waist clincher and the teetering on the boots' heels gave Chris a very sexy walk which he accentuated when he walked past the cameras. He was enjoying himself and caught Linda watching him as he bent over the machinery, exposing his tight black underwear. As a final gesture, Chris re- entered the MD's computer and deleted all the files he could find. They then closed everything down and, with a final bow to the cameras, left the office. Christine Christine was absolutely furious. The critical meeting scheduled during their US trip was only 5 hours away and her boss had insisted on having a drink or six over lunch as they prepared their presentation in his room, he was now asleep in their meeting room and she was doing all the final preparations to present to the Saudi Bank. What had really sent her into orbit was a call from the bank's chief negotiator to speak with her boss, when she told the caller he was unavailable, but that she was fully briefed, the caller muttered something about it being inappropriate for a woman, and said he would call back. Of all the nerve, she was the one doing all the work and the preparation, her boss could lose the contract. An hour before the allotted time, having sent her boss off for a shower and change, they received a visitor from the bank who politely, but firmly, stated that the meeting was for men only. Christine smiled sweetly at the messenger, closed the door and burst into tears, her boss would lose it all - but these Arabs were fixed in their views of women and, if her bank was to have any chance, she would have to ensure her boss was fully briefed. Three hours later, her boss returned, clearly hot and flustered. It transpired that the fearsome Dr. Ali Ben-Ahmed, the Pan Arab bank's president and chief finance officer, had grilled him to toast and thrown him out to try again. They were in danger of losing the contract and her wimp boss did not have the balls to complete the negotiation. The next meeting was at 10.00am the following day and Christine resigned herself to a wasted night's work as she knew her boss could not really grasp the subtleties of the finance package they were trying to complete. Her boss was clearly frightened and out of his depth, he kept saying, "If only you could be there so we had a team approach and you could do the funding calculations whilst I handled the talking." Christine thought for a while. "Listen, how about I do come to the meeting?" Her boss looked at her as if she was stupid. "But, how, they won't have a woman there, except to serve drink." "No. listen, This is so important, I'm sure I could get so that I could pass as your assistant, especially if I have severe laryngitis." Christine thought as she spoke, "The shops here are open till late and there must be somewhere in New York, this is the city that never sleeps." Christine pulled out a telephone directory and waded through the business sections before she found a section for cross-dressing, all of the sites were for men (Like her Chris, she thought), but one offered help for both men and women. Without hesitation she rang the number and talked to a helpful girl, she explained her need to pass as a man the next day and the girl told her to come over and bring her credit card. The shop was large and in a busy suburb of Manhattan. It looked from the outside like a normal fashion house, inside were racks of dresses and women's apparel being carefully looked over by a wide assortment of well-dressed women. An assistant came over to her and asked if she needed help, she told her of the telephone call and the assistant brought over a tall, statuesque blonde who introduced herself as Marcia. "Well, we try to please everyone, but your request has a certain urgency. Now, let's see." In minutes, Christine had been measured and fitted with a vest affair which minimised her small breasts and widened her waist. She tried on a pair of boxer shorts with shaping already built-in and grinned at the "lump," then a man's shirt and trousers were brought in. "No, this is a formal meeting, I'll need dress shirt, suit, tie and formal shoes." The attire arrived and was pinned and tucked to fit her new shape, then rushed away to seamstresses in the back of the store. "We have a rapid service here," Marcia chatted as they waited for the clothes to come back, "most of my clients make a special trip here, so they don't want to leave without making sure everything is perfect." They watched as a number of shoppers appeared from the changing rooms in a variety of outfits from classic skirt suits to outrageous leather gear. It slowly dawned on Christine that these shoppers were all men dressing up to fulfil their fantasy. Marcia smiled at her, "We don't get many women in here; this is mostly a guy thing. Virtually all my customers have a wife and kids at home, this is just harmless for them and they feel secure here knowing we're all the same" Christine looked at Marcia and realised she must also be a man, but the transformation was so complete. After what seemed like hours, Christine was standing in front of the mirror admiring a man in a smart pin-stripe single-breasted suit with white button-down shirt, conservative tie and shiny black brogues. Marcia had shown her how to walk without swaying her hips and had given her a few tips on male "etiquette" including bathroom habits (disturbing!) and the need for occasional playing of "pocket billiards." Sitting was also important, don't point your toes and cross legs at the knees, not the ankles. Christine's hair was short, but feminine in style, and Marcia led her to a booth where one of the assistants went to work with scissors and comb to deliver a more masculine cut. A final touch was the careful application of some theatrical make-up to cover the pierces in her ears and to stick on some thicker hairs to her already broad eyebrows. Marcia presented the bill, which took Christine's breath away. A swift slap on Christine's hand as she reached for her handbag reminded her to delve into her back pocket for the new wallet and credit card - she would have to be very careful if she had to pay for anything as the card clearly said, "Mrs. Christine Markham." Hailing a cab outside Marcia's salon, Christine grunted the name of the hotel and was serenaded by the typical New Yorker taxi driver's tirade as he fought his way through the traffic to her hotel. Walking through the hotel lobby, striding purposefully, her only encounter was with the bell boy who said, "Hello, Sir," and then called the elevator. In the comfort of her room, she practiced the voice and mannerisms Marcia had taught her, then she rang her boss and suggested that they met in an hour to go over the final proposals. Sitting at the PC reviewing the final numbers, Christine heard the meeting room door open behind her and then a muffled apology. She turned and smiled at her boss who stopped, looked and gasped, "God, I would never have known. What have you done Chris?" He quickly got over the shock and they rapidly got to work completing the schedules and rehearsing the game plan for the morning. Chris eventually got back to the hotel room at 4.00am and stripped off, collapsing into bed exhausted. Her mind was racing over the changes she had brought on herself and the implications for the future; unsettled, she retrieved the boxer shorts and put them on. The presence of the lump in the groin was a comfort and she remembered Marcia's instructions to fiddle with it just like men do. Her hand movements and the feel of the coarse fabric over her waist and legs quickly aroused her long- dormant thoughts, increasing the tempo she thought of herself tomorrow trying to act the part of a successful male businessman. Perhaps she should event flirt with the waitresses in the morning? With that thought, her hips heaved and she let out a sigh as the waves of relief and pleasure embraced her whole body. She fell asleep instantly. Chris Exhilarated, Chris and Linda emerged into the car park laughing and giggling. They had got everything they needed and the chances of being identified were negligible. Still laughing, Linda effected a gruff voice and said; "Well, girl, after that how're y'all fixed for a nightcap?" "Well, sir," Chris whispered in a high sibilant tone, "if you're asking a girl out she might just say yes" They looked at each other, then Chris said, "Maybe not, especially when I'm dressed like this" Linda smiled, "You can't go home in the dark dressed like that, the walk from your parking garage to your home could be dangerous - believe me. Listen, at least come back to my place and you can relax a bit and get changed into something more reasonable" Chris agreed and he followed her car out into the night. They eventually parked up in a nice-looking neighbourhood. Linda obviously had done well out of alimony settlements and boyfriends. Clattering up the drive and into the house on 4" heels, Chris accepted Linda's invitation to crash out onto an inviting sofa. "Why don't you at least take those boots off, and anything else. Listen, I'll go upstairs and lay out a dressing gown for you - you go to the bathroom and then you can get changed." Chris followed Linda dutifully upstairs and when he emerged from the bathroom, boots in hand, she led him into what clearly was a spare bedroom and pointed out a pink towelling dressing gown. Chris thanked her and closed the door, removing the leather skirt and top, he struggled out of the confines of a particularly tight waist clincher and breathed a sigh of relief. Tights followed and were quickly consigned to the waste bin when a large ladder was discovered. Wrapping himself in the gown, he sat at the dressing table and removed the long blonde wig, shaking out his own dyed curls. Finding some cotton balls and moisturiser, he removed the heavy make-up and cleansed his face thoroughly. Feeling refreshed, he took the hair brush from the table and brushed his hair feeling the tangles unwind as he restored the life into his hair. Next, he returned to the bathroom and "rearranged" himself to ensure there would be no unwanted appearances tonight. He liked Linda, but felt only a sort of kinship with her after the day's activities, looking at his make-up free face in the mirror he smiled and went downstairs. Linda had fixed some coffee and had run up a light salad, she smiled at Chris' arrival and complemented him on his hair and nails. They sat and chatted for what seemed like hours, mostly Linda's problems with men but also Chris' needs and desires to be like a woman. With a start, Linda exclaimed, "It's 4am. Listen, you can't go home this late and you've not exactly got suitable clothing. Why don't you sleep over, we've been chatting like old girlfriends - I'll lend you one of my nighties if you want." Chris accepted and was soon sound asleep in the spare bedroom cosseted in a short frilly pink nighty. Christine Christine awoke, drowsy and slightly confused. She staggered to the bathroom and was about to sit down when she realised she was still wearing the "enhanced" boxer shorts. She pulled them off and relieved herself before stepping into the shower, her short hair felt unfamiliar as she washed it, remembering to use the hotel's stock shampoo, not her own feminine brand. A quick shower and towel down, she stopped herself using her perfumed talc and opted instead to go without. In the bag by the bathroom door were some "essentials" Marcia had added last evening. Taking the first of these out, she found a bag of dark powder which she remembered was to help her in the transition to being Chris. Half-an-hour later she looked at the results in the mirror, the dark powder had given her the semblance of a beard shadow and by adding a few hairs to her eyebrows from the stock, her fine lines had disappeared. Foundation mixed with a binder gel filled the holes in her pierced ears and her breasts were virtually invisible below a tight-fitting torso covering which also thickened her waist. She quickly finished the rest of the dressing, choosing a conservative tie and black shoes to go with a dark, pin-stripe suit and blue striped shirt. Placing her work documents into a briefcase she had borrowed from her boss, she left the bedroom smiling to the maid as she said. "Good morning, sir-" Christine met her boss and, after his initial discomfiture at Christine's new look had worn off, they called a taxi and went over to the Saudi Bank building. The rest of the day was a whirl, meetings and breakout sessions followed frantic sessions with the computers before they had approached a deal which seemed mutually beneficial. Christine had kept fairly quiet, but had developed a strong respect for the Bank's chief negotiator, Sheik Adu-Dhalani. Their sessions became more intense until her boss effectively crumbled in the face of the onslaught from the other side. Calling a "time-out" he confided to Christine that he could not go on, she immediately took the reins of the negotiation and, being careful to modulate her voice, brought both sides to a point of tacit agreement. "Gentlemen, I think we have gone far enough today. Chris is to be thanked for his assiduousness and tenacity; you make a good adversary." The Sheik inclined his head to Chris, who smiled in appreciation. "Now, let us sleep on the discussions and meet again at 7.00am tomorrow." With that he rose and glided out of the room, pausing to shake Chris' hand and, pointedly, not shaking her boss by the hand. They returned to the hotel in silence and with a, "I'm tired, see you in the morning at 6.30," he disappeared. Christine also felt exhausted and went to her room, she ordered from room service and thanked the waitress with a tip. Finishing her meal, she realised that, to continue the charade of Chris she would need to improve her wardrobe. Chris Chris awoke, disoriented, in an unfamiliar bed as Linda opened the door and brought in a coffee. "Wake up sleepy-head, my you do look pretty but you need a shave." Linda flounced in wearing a long, satin nightgown and negligee, placed the cup on the bedside table and walked out, pausing to grin at Chris. He got up, went to the bathroom and shaved using a ladyshave from the closet and then showered. Washing his hair was a bit of a disaster as Linda's shampoo removed some of the temporary colour from his hair, changing it to a mousy brown. He towelled himself dry and then realised that he had no clothes to wear, opening the bathroom door, clad in only a towel, he called down for help. Linda had already thought of the problem and led Chris to her bedroom where an assortment of underwear and outerwear was arranged. "Sorry, not that much in your size, but you're welcome to borrow any of it. Help yourself to the make-up as well, I'll fix some breakfast." Chris thanked her and quickly donned a white bra, which was a little tight, but held him firm. He then pulled on a pair of Linda's white stretch knickers, finding a panty liner to protect the fabric. Panty hose in a plain colour followed; then, after numerous attempts at skirt and blouse combinations which did not fit, Chris chose a simple black V-necked sweater in cotton which expanded to fit the bigger torso and a pair of loose-fitting trousers in a mid-grey. Replacing the earrings and jewellery from last night, he made up his face with subtle colours, mascara and lipstick. Shoes proved the greatest problem, but Chris found a pair of low backless sandals in black and silver in which he could walk, just. Downstairs, Linda greeted him with a light kiss and complemented the outfit before ushering him to the table where a light breakfast was ready. They chatted easily, Linda was clearly worried about her future employment and they both laughed when they recalled the adventures of last evening. Linda's email had arrived from the company telling her that her job would not exist from today and that redundancy notices will be sent to everyone with terms which were just slightly better than the minimum necessary. "Sod them," Linda was very annoyed, "I gave years of my life and a few nights as well. Well, I for one intend to take the money and run." You know, I've still got a company credit card that he gave me to use to book hotel rooms and such - I think it's time to give it a severe battering. Fancy some retail therapy?" "Love to," Chris smiled, "but I must get home and at least fix my hair and get some shoes I can walk in!" They quickly finished breakfast and drove over to Chris' house where his email inbox was showing his redundancy notice. Chris dashed upstairs changed into a loose summer dress and sensible shoes, returning Linda's clothes to her as they left at speed to hit the shops. Hours later, collapsing exhausted into a chair at a coffee bar, they both stacked their carrier bags of designer outfits, shoes and sensual lingerie onto adjoining chairs. "Wow, I've not had so much fun in ages." Linda's face was aglow. "What a shame I couldn't get that second Ben De-Lisl dress, the cheapskate had a low limit on his credit card. Still, you did well - that black and gold dress is lovely and the blue gown simply divine. Listen, I've got tickets for tonight's classical concert at the Hall, I was going with that idiot so why don't we finish off a great day by really dressing up and having fun tonight." Linda dropped Chris at home and promised to return "dressed to the nines" in two hours. Chris rushed in and carefully put all the new purchases onto hangers and ran a hot bath. Pouring in copious quantities of some the recently-purchased and very expensive foam bath, Chris stripped off and immersed his tired body into the hot water, he shaved his legs completely clean and lifted off the breast forms which needed resticking. Satisfied that all noticeable body hair was removed, he shaved his face and washed his hair, adding a strong fixing gel to his damp hair before climbing out of the bath. Drying off, he liberally dusted all over with matching talc and slicked his hair back into a tight mass on his head. Then the breast forms were cleaned with spirit and attached firmly to his chest. A light nylon negligee was sufficient as Chris walked into the bedroom and started his make-up, it took almost half an hour before he was satisfied with the effect of predominantly blue eyes and a strong red lipstick and rouge. He primped and dried his hair, revelling in the bounce from the rollers of the previous night. Removing the negligee, he stepped into a beautiful electric blue basque. Pulling the drawstrings tight around him accentuated his breasts and waist and gave an hourglass figure to be proud of. Next he opened the box containing his new "V," this device was like a very strong condom which had to be stretched over a tube before he put his penis into the tube and rolled the tight latex onto his member. Attaching an elasticated ribbon to the hook on the end of the latex, he pulled the ribbon up under his crotch and secured it to the back of the basque. The effect, when viewed in the mirror, was to produce a perfect shape to his crotch with no sign, at least from the front, of any male attribute. The final steps of preparation were to pull on a very small pair of matching blue panties and the sheerest of nearly- black stockings. Chris removed the blue evening gown from its protective cover and stepped into the warm embrace of the soft fabric. Pulling up the zip, he looked into the mirror and twirled with delight at the magnificent reflection. Glancing at the clock, he shrieked and sat down at the dressing table to fix his hair with spray, don jewellery, a new watch from Gucci and to paint his nails a subtle, deep red. He had just applied the final coat and was drying it with the hair dryer when the front door bell chimed. Linda wore a long white dress with scalloped neck and brocaded jacket, she shrieked when she saw Chris. "Wow, you look fabulous." Chris returned the compliment and the two elegant ladies stepped out into the evening. The concert was a great success and they enjoyed both the music and the glances of interest from the men, and from the women in the audience. One guy kept smiling at Chris over the crush bar at the interval and brought the two ladies a glass of champagne, they chatted and agreed to meet after the concert for dinner with Linda. The evening reached its inevitable conclusion. With far too much wine and champagne inside them, Linda and Chris invited their new friend to Linda's house. They had just got through the door when Linda jumped the guy and had him rolling around the floor with Linda's hungry lips clamped to his willing mouth. Things accelerated and moved to the bedroom, Linda stripping to reveal a white basque and no other underwear, the guy rapidly undressed and before long they were bucking as his penis slid into Linda's waiting pussy. Chris had come upstairs to watch and, with the first orgasm announced by groans and shouts, Linda beckoned to Chris. Their new friend, whose name they never did remember, rolled off Linda and, with a smile, moved over to Chris and started to undo the zipper holding up the blue dress. Chris did not resist, he felt very strange, very aroused and very unsure. The dress slid from Chris' shoulders and the guy started kissing Chris all over, the sensation was wonderful and Chris responded with groans. The excitement buckled Chris' knees and he lay alongside Linda, eyes closed in ecstasy. Soon, Linda was kissing Chris and the guy ran has tongue along the inside of Chris' thighs, an exploring tongue found something it was not expecting and with a "What the fuck.... The exploration stopped and the guy quickly stood up. "Sorry, this isn't my scene." He apologised and swiftly left. "Oh, dear, what a shame, your beau has gone." Linda giggled before grabbing Chris and pulling the boned underwear towards her hungry mouth. They kissed passionately and then Linda pulled off Chris' panties. "Well, a neat arrangement. Can he come out to play?" With a grunt, Chris pulled off the restraint and his erect penis sprang forward, Linda moved swiftly and engulfed the organ in her mouth. The excitement and arousal was too much and Chris shot his load into Linda's hungry throat. Chris collapsed onto the bed and Linda moved into the bathroom. Linda called out "Chris, why don't you put a nighty on and sleep with me." Chris liked the idea, so he replaced the blue thong panties and then chose a long blue satin nightdress from Linda's wardrobe, pulling it over the basque. Leaving the stockings on, Chris moved to the dressing table and touched up his make-up, rearranged his hair and removed some of the jewellery. "Leave all that, why don't you come and lay down here." Linda was behind Chris and guided Chris to the bed. "You really look the part, how about feeling like a real woman for tonight?" Linda placed a pillow at the foot of the bed and pulled Chris down so that Chris' back was on the pillow. Wordlessly, Linda straightened Chris' nightgown and then started to kiss Chris' legs, moving up under the satin material. The feeling of Linda's lips and hair brushing Chris' stocking-clad legs was wonderful. He felt her reach his manhood as it pressed against the satin of the thong, she started running her fingers and tongue along the outline of its length, then she moved to his raised backside and started to massage his anus. Linda withdrew from the embrace of the nightdress and lifted the material. Chris watched, breathing heavily, as Linda pulled off her black gown to reveal a black leather basque with studs and chains. From her tight-fitting panties protruded a huge black dildo, Chris could clearly see that the panties were split and that the other end of the dildo was firmly implanted in Linda's pussy. "I'm going to take you. You're my woman for the night and I want satisfaction." Linda's breasts heaved in the tight embrace of the leather as she maneuvered herself so that the dildo was pressing on Chris. He felt increasing pressure as the lubricated end of the device pressed urgently on his anus. "Relax, my sweet!."..Chris allowed himself to relax, despite the sexual charge growing within him. The muscles of his groin relaxed slowly and he felt the dildo part his lips and begin to slide gently into his body. The deeper it got, the greater the pain and the pleasure. Linda was very careful and slowly inched into him until he felt Linda's hot breath on his neck. "There, my darling, how does that feel?" "Wonderful, I feel you're making love to me as a man does to a woman." Linda started to move more rapidly and Chris could see the mounting tension in her face as her breathing got ragged and she started to moan. Almost without warning, Linda screamed and thrust deeply, Chris felt the tension release and a combination of his penis releasing its pent-up load and a pulsating feeling from his whole body caused him to arch his back and emit a loud moan. He had come completely and for the first time as a woman. Christine & Chris Christine awoke with a start as the telephone in the hotel room burst into life, sleepily picking it up she quickly became alert as she realised it was the Sheikh. "Chris, I am sorry to disturb you after such a tiring day, but I have a problem which I believe you can help me solve in a mutually beneficial way. I appreciate that it is late, but can we meet at my apartment in, say, 15 minutes, I have a driver waiting to bring you here." His warm tones flowed from the telephone and Christine mumbled her assent. The Sheikh's apartment was as opulent as his flowing robes, he beckoned Christine to sit down. "Let me get straight to the point, your boss is useless and, on that basis, I will not be giving your bank my business." Christine grimaced. "Don't worry, for you personally I have both an offer and a problem. You see, my advisors are unfamiliar with dealings in International Finance and we always seem to fight shy of dealing with Westerners as we do not really understand the culture. I need a new advisor; the job is yours if you will accept." Christine was speechless, before she could respond, the Sheikh continued, "I will double your current salary with a bonus of a million dollars if you help bring off our current round of financing. A guaranteed 5-year contract plus all living expenses and, of course, relocation for your family. What do you say?" Christine's mind went into overdrive, the package was mind-boggling. "Will I have freedom to negotiate on my terms for the bank, who will I report to, how much autonomy?" The Sheikh clarified all the questions to Christine's satisfaction. "I will personally arrange for one of my wives to help instruct your wife in our etiquette and dress, we are a fairly relaxed society but there are still some religious fanatics who demand that women follow the Koran to the letter." The Sheikh's tones broke through Christine's reverie - Of course, she thought, how can I even contemplate this opportunity, I could never carry this off and what about Chris? "Sir, I am most grateful for your kind offer, but I am afraid that I cannot accept for personal reasons." Christine was genuinely sorry to let the man down. "But why, I am sure we can overcome any obstacle, what is the problem? Please feel free to confide in me, my word is my bond and I will not divulge anything outside this room." Christine blushed. "My name is Christine, not Chris. I am a woman, but we felt that you would not take a woman negotiator seriously, so we developed this little charade." "I know." The Sheikh smiled as Christine gasped. "I've had you checked out, don't worry it was completely discrete and no-one here will ever know. I also know that your husband has been seen dressed in women's clothes. I have a plan, if you are amenable........." Once over the shock, they discussed the Sheikh's plan in detail, he clearly wanted Christine's skills and was prepared to go to great lengths to obtain them. The dawn soon followed and the Sheikh arranged for Christine to move to another room whilst he 'phoned her boss and announced the immediate cessation of negotiations and his intent to employ Christine immediately. He offered the Bank an immediate payment to pay off Christine's contract and, to her boss, a lucrative bonus if he kept his mouth shut about the deception. They departed on a private jet for the Sheikh's fiefdom. Waking up in another unfamiliar bed, Christine saw a pretty young girl bringing in lots of men's clothing. When the girl saw Christine was awake, she smiled sweetly and left. A minute later the door opened and a statuesque woman entered, "Good morning Mr. Markham, I trust you slept well. My name is Sabrina and I am the Sheikh's third wife. He has instructed me to talk with you to help complete your introduction to our country and culture and to oversee your wife's relocation" Before Christine could respond, Sabrina removed her long dark gown revealing a perfect figure with beautiful satin underwear. She quickly slid into bed and started kissing Christine all over. It was the most erotic feeling Christine had ever had, before she knew what she was doing, she was returning the attention with increasing ardour. Sabrina was well experienced and began kissing and nibbling Christine's erect clitoris, she moved quickly and Christine felt a long warm item enter her moist vagina. Sabrina rolled off Christine and lay on her back beside her. "Now, you are the man, take me." Christine moved over to Sabrina, feeling the strange weight of the dildo as it protruded from her vagina. Positioning herself, Christine felt her "erection" pushing at the mouth of Sabrina's waiting pussy before she slid the long phallus into Sabrina's body to the soft moans of a clearly excited woman. Increasing the intensity, Christine rode Sabrina with long thrusts until her own excitement grew to fever pitch and they both orgasmed, pushing their hips together to heighten the pleasure. Laying quietly afterwards, Sabrina whispered, "There, that is how to satisfy a woman completely. The Sheikh wishes me to help your education and has given us his full blessing. But, you have a partner and we must work hard to make this a success. Sabrina left muttering something about much to do. After a day choosing men's clothes and being pampered by the Sheikh's entourage, Christine slept fitfully and awoke early. She eventually plucked up the courage to 'phone home. Chris responded and, after some strained small talk they both tried to say something at the same time. Chris finally won and, haltingly, explained why he had spent the last week or so dressed "en femme," he carefully avoided any reference to his last escapade with Linda. He finished, "I'm sorry darling, I know you don't really understand or like it, but I cannot escape what I am. I'm not gay and I don't want to sleep with a man, but it's something I need." "Chris, I know and believe me, I understand more than you may think." She explained all that had happened to her (except Sabrina), and outlined the Sheikh's plan. "You see, this way we get everything. I get a great job, we get a mountainload of money and you, my darling, get to live your fantasy as a woman with me as your husband." There was silence at the end of the telephone, Christine heard the doorbell in the background. "Hold on, let me get that." Christine heard voices and then the receiver was picked up. "I guess it's started, there's a woman here who says she's from the Sheikh, her name's Sabrina. What do I do now?" Two weeks later, Chris (as Christine now thought of her - or was it him-self?) was resplendent in a fine Saville Row suit standing alongside the Sheikh in his flowing robes as the private jet touched down. The plane rapidly came to a halt and the engines died as the door opened and the stairway unfolded. Chris could feel her heart racing, yet could not prevent a gasp of joy mixed with surprise as a beautiful woman emerged in a long glowing bronze dress and matching head-scarf. Sabrina followed and the two women walked across the tarmac to the waiting men, the Sheikh embraced Sabrina warmly as the two Chrises looked each other deep into their eyes. "Delighted to meet you Mrs. Markham. Please, you and your husband take this limousine back to your home, the driver and the car are at your disposal." With that the Sheikh turned on swirling robes and disappeared with Sabrina into the other waiting car. Silently, the two remaining people got into the huge limo and closed the doors. "You look fabulous, let me see you properly." Pushing the head-scarf back revealed a cascade of blonde curls over a perfectly made-up face with fresh lipstick and glittering eyes. They kissed passionately before the male picked up the intercom and asked the driver to drive them to their new home, quickly.