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A few weeks later the BiGirls celebrated the sixth month of my honorary membership by taking me to dinner and a show. "Buy yourself the sluttiest outfit you're willing to wear," Alice said, "And we'll all go have a fun evening. Just us girls. I'll get you a wig -- dark black, straight hair, I should think, in a cute bob with long bangs. It'll be your full first night out in public as a girl, won't it? No fear, we'll surround you. Go get your nails done at least -- I'm sure Jane won't mind that much, anyhow. All part of her new, sleek, suave, husband."
So I went in to our local beauty salon and got my nails done, pale pink instead of the clear coats the attendant wanted to give me as a man. I felt like flashing them at everyone, they looked so nice when done. Then to a mod clothes store, where I found a micro-mini skirt made out of a strip of red leather, and to balance it off a black angora sweater, soft and fuzzy but tight enough to show my boobs clearly. Tons of junk jewelry, gold bangles on both wrists, multiple chain necklaces, and some big hoop earrings -- really brassy. High black fish net pantyhose -- I wanted thigh highs, but the saleslady insisted I was too tall for them, the tops would show below the little red mini. I thought that would be wickedly slutty, but she told me coldly I'd be raped or arrested for prostitution before I'd gone a hundred yards. And then five inch heels on black strappy shoes. The lady sitting next to me where I was being fitted for the heels kept asking if I was an actor or a performer, or if I needed them for a costume party. So in the end I told her my girlfriends wanted to give me a night out to thank me for giving them so much sexual pleasure, and I needed sexy shoes to pick up guys for them and spread the wealth. Then she stopped asking.
Everyone gathered round when I came downstairs at Alice's place fully dressed in my black Angora and red mini and gold bangles and dangles, heavily made up especially around the eyes. Alice produced the wig, and it was just darling, cute as could be. I loved it, it was really "me". We left Alice's house giggling and gossiping and teasing each other, and kept it up through dinner at a local Chinese restaurant, getting especially hysterical when I tried to use the Men's room and some horrified young woman blocked my way because her date was in there, and she thought I wanted to turn a trick with him.
My sister BiGirls started talking about whether I was more female than male these days, or whether I was neither or both. Meg raised a toast "To Craig's cock and balls, his lost causes," and I blushed. Dottie asked if they were lost or just mislaid, and everyone groaned. Lisa commented that I was so much nicer now that I had breasts, something for them to kiss while I was kissing theirs. She said she could hardly wait for me to get my danglers turned into a vagina. "Craig would be so much more cute with pussy lips for us to kiss," she said. "Isn't it time?" Eden couldn't see how a cunt would add much. "She's got such a sweet tush right now, and it wriggles so prettily when I've pushed something way up into it." Alice said that surgery for me was "not in the arrangement," whatever she meant by that, but between me and Jane, "because Jane has a half-interest in Craig." When dinner ended they were still teasing me about whether Jane had ever been more than half-interested in me, or whether her half included one complete testicle or half of each, or included the first three inches of my cock or the last three, with anything left over declared no man's land.
We moved on to the next event, front row seats at a beefcake strip show, the "Percherons." These were five heavily muscled male dancers who shook and stripped and jiggled and stripped some more, until finally what was left to imagination was covered by only a teeny triangle of satin on a G-string. This pouch was quickly knocked askew by women thrusting five dollar bills into the G-string, and then there was their equipment on full display! One by one the men came to bump and grind in front of me as the guest of honor of our group, and I must say, they were hung! Two of them rotated their cocks not a foot from my face, heavy balls slapping against their thighs, the longest pricks I had ever seen. They seemed to hang half-way to their knees, as thick as fire hoses. For the first time in my life I felt my own genitals to be altogether inadequate, negligible, and I tried instead to feel pleased that the BiGirls loved me for my tongue and my dedication, not for what was between my legs. I wondered how Jane really felt about me.
"How'd you like to get that thing erect in your mouth and down your throat?" Meg asked everyone?
"It'd never fit any throat I've ever seen," Beryl said with some wonderment, even awe.
"You know anywhere it would fit?" Alice asked. "It might be worth a try!"
We went to a night club afterward, and sat around several tables, while the girls resumed talk of surgery to bring me the rest of the way.
"If Craig did go the distance," Lisa argued, "Then she'd be eligible for full membership in the club, not just an honorary membership. She'd be a girl who likes girls."
"Only if she were married to a man," said someone else.
"There's another way," said Doreen. Doreen was a dark-haired beauty with magic hands who had joined the club after me, but had quickly become everyone's favorite. "There's another way for Craig to keep his balls but still be bisexual, and in that way earn a full membership..."
Everyone thought for a moment what that way might be. "Oooh! Do you think he would?" Dottie asked? She was quick! "Say, with somebody real special, like one of those Percherons? Would you, Craig?"
"We're a girl's club," I replied, trying to avoid an answer. "Sex with men doesn't qualify." One of those Percheron fire hoses was in my imagination's eye at that moment, and I couldn't decide how I felt about it. To really belong, would I make love to it? Would it be any different really from wetting down Eden's dildo, or fucking it?
They called on Alice for a parliamentary judgment. "Craig is a special case," she said, speaking slowly and thinking her way through it. "But I think that if she did what women do with men, then with the fact that she already does with us what women do with women, she'd be eligible for full membership as a BiGirl. She'd be doing everything we do. Why not?"
"Then let's get her a man!" said Meg.
At that point the party got a little hazy. All of the girls had been drinking, and as some of them started approaching single men on my behalf, they were misunderstood and swept up onto the dance floor themselves. Then married or not, some started disappearing into the parking lot with their partners, returning disheveled.
A tall young man leaned over me and asked me to dance. I looked up frightened. This wasn't in the cards. I glanced at Dottie, who was still at my table, and she signalled that one dance was unavoidable, but then we'd go. So with my heart beating I let him lead me to the dance floor.
It wasn't easy. This guy was putting the make on me from the moment I put my arms on his shoulders -- he had picked a slow dance. I had a twisted feeling in my stomach -- there was something perverse about it. A man was not a dildo strapped to a girl. I was not gay. He pulled me against him and began to twist his body against my breasts, and to my horror I felt my nipples harden in response -- if he touched one of them, would I melt, the way I did when one of the girls fondled me? He did touch one, ever so lightly, and his hand lingered. Then at the same time he pulled my groin into his, and even through our clothing he began to rotate his meat into me. I could feel it, and my knees were getting weak. I was in a man's arms, and in very little more time I knew he would be in my mouth or my ass if I didn't do something. But what? He touched my other nipple, and I grew weaker. This was not what I had bargained for!
"Craig, we've got to go!" There was Lisa. She had seen the look in my eye, broken away from her man, and come to rescue me.
"Craig?" said the man. "That's a funny name for a girl."
"He's not a girl," Lisa said. "He's a guy in drag. And he's my very special boy friend. So I'd appreciate your backing off."
"A guy in drag? I don't believe it! I don't go for guys! Just look at her."
"Should we show you his balls?" Dottie had joined us and was tugging on my arm while I stood there dazed by what I had just felt. The man was really attractive! But before he could respond she and Lisa had me spirited away, planted me in Dottie's car, and headed us home.
"Will Jane make a problem, you coming home looking like a foxy lady?" Dottie asked me. "You can change at my house. Of course coming home in a skirt is probably better than coming home in any of the flimsy things I'd lend you."
"No, Jane's out of town on business," I said. "Thanks Dottie. Thanks Lisa. I need to think about all this."
"You do that," Lisa said. "And you might ask Jane about it too, before you do anything more than think about it, especially just to get even. Otherwise it's cheating. You remember that I don't believe married people should cheat."
I remembered she'd said that, but maybe because it was late, I couldn't make sense of anything else she'd just said. So I just said good night.
After that outing, all of the girls thought it was important for me to think of Craig as a girl, not a boy. It was the only way I could eventually become a full BiGirl like the rest of them. A few of them scheduled little dinners or trips to the movies now and then, with me wearing a dress, well-made up, wearing my wig, to build my confidence in my femininity. It did. They'd take me shopping, and my taste in clothing improved, and I began to build up a darling wardrobe. I'd wear it even when the Club wasn't meeting, skirts and blouses during the day and cocktail dresses late afternoons or evenings if Jane was due to be out of town. And they allowed me to wear all kinds of sexy underwear during our Tuesday and Thursday afternoon meetings, as long as it didn't get in the way.
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