From: b1223@ix.netcom.com
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.stories.tg
Subject: Lisa's TG Library: "Tracey and I"



   My girlfriend, Tracey and I have been together for a few years now, our
relationship started out as most do nowadays, dinner, a few drinks,
spending the night together, that kind of thing.  We started living
together about two years ago, a strictly vanilla relationship, until the
demands of our respective careers caught up to us.

   The pressures we both faced were growing monthly, and we needed
something to release that tension.  That's when we discovered mild B&D.

   We'd alternate roles, each of us trying to outdo the other in coming up
with different scenes.  This is the story of last weekend, when Tracey was
taking the role of Dom, and I the sub.  It started innocently enough, on
the Saturday afternoon.  We had just finished lunch when she stood up, left
the room, and returned a few moments later.  She told me to get my coat,
that we were off for the afternoon.

   We live in a major metropolitan area, but out in the suburbs.  Tracey
took us downtown, to a good but not great area, I really had to wonder
where we were going, and why, but Tracey would talk about anything, but her
purpose.

   We pulled up in front of a motel, and stopped, engine still running. 
Tracey went in, after telling me to stay put, and returned a few minutes
later.  She pulled around the corner, and stopped in front of Unit 13.

   "Let's go" she said, and went to the door.  Wondering I followed,
thinking we were about to have a hot illicit afternoon of sex.  Little did
I know.

   After going into the room, I reached for her, but she slipped away,
moving quickly to the other side of the room.  Putting her hands on her
hips, she looked at me as if I was the scum of the earth, and snarled
"STRIP"!

   It became clear to me the reason for the room, and the trip downtown. 
We were going to have a scene, and I was "IT".  That suited me just fine,
stress and tension had been building in me for weeks, and I felt I needed
the release the afternoon would bring.

   "Well?" she said, staring at me.  I took the hint, and began stripping
off.  She turned, walked across the room and out the door.

   Minutes later she was back, with a small suitcase.  She must have put it
in the car sometime in the morning, because I certainly hadn't seen her
carry it out of the house.  I was standing there at half mast, naked, when
she opened the case.  I saw our collection of bondage gear, the cuffs,
bracelets, and ropes.  I knew I was about to be trussed up like a turkey,
and looked forward to it.  Tracey has always had an inventive mind.

   She took off her coat, and I saw her outfit.  It was stunning, her long
legs were encased in black stockings, going up to a bustier, moulding her
proud firm breasts into twin mountains of pleasure.  Circling her slim
waist was a gold chain, with a set of handcuffs casually draped over the
chain.  She wore no panties, her red pubic hair was trimmed and framed by
the black of her stockings and bustier.  She had changed her shoes from the
sensible shoes she had worn while driving down here, and now was wearing a
pair of red heels, at least 5 inches.  She was stunning, and every inch the
Dominatrix she was.  Even though I knew it was all in fun, the hair on my
body still rose with a touch of fear, anticipation, I don't know what to
call it, but it was there.  She had never before taken on this kind of
look. I knew it was going to be an afternoon to remember.

   Walking toward me, slinking really, I could only watch.  My manhood was
stirring, unbidden.  Her eyes riveted on my growing member, and a look of
scorn crossed her lips.

   A searing pain hit me, from somewhere a riding crop had appeared, and
she had just flicked it across my member.

   "On your knees" she said, softly, and all the more menacing because of
that tone.  I found myself kneeling before my Mistress.

   She stood in front of me, her pussy inches from my lips, and I wanted to
be commanded to worship her, but she raised my head with her crop instead,
so that I was looking into her eyes.

   "You will obey me, won't you?' she said.  "You're mine to do with as I
please, aren't you?"

   "Yes" I muttered.

   The crop stung my cheek, I didn't know she could move so quickly.  "WHAT
WAS THAT?" she asked.

   I realized the error of my ways and replied, "Yes, Mistress".

   A smile played over those lips, both cruel and satisfied.  "Better" was
her response.  She reached to the chain at her side and removed the cuffs.
Without being asked, I raised my arms to receive them.  They snapped into
place, and I knew we had really started.  She followed the cuffs with a set
for my ankles, and joined them together with a short length of chain.  I
was immobilized.

   She walked, or rather floated over to her suitcase, and removed several
items from it.  I watched, wondering what she had in mind.  Coming behind
me, she blindfolded me.  I felt something against my lips, something round.
I opened my mouth, and was promptly gagged.  I was helpless, chained, blind
and gagged.  My pulse rate was elevated, and I was really getting into this
scene of hers.  We'd already gone beyond anything we'd ever done
previously. It's strange, when a particular sense is removed, how the
others rise to the occasion, I found my hearing had become more acute, and
my sense of smell had improved.  I was conscious of her moving around the
room, her perfume filling the air.

   I wondered what was next, and was trying to interpret the sounds I was
hearing.  I felt a cool breeze around my body, and heard what I thought was
the door opening and closing.  That sound was frightening.  Here I was,
stark naked, bound and gagged, had someone else come into the room and seen
me like this?

   I strained to hear, but nothing, no sound of breathing, no footsteps,
just the sounds of the room, and outside, the buzz of traffic.  Time stood
still, my muscles started to cramp, and still nothing.  I heard footsteps
outside the room, my heart raced, and they went on past the door, I hoped
it was Tracey, but no.

   Over the next while, and I really had no idea how long it was, several
people went by, each time my heart raced, and then, I heard a key in the
lock.  The breath of cool air flowed over my body, and I knew she had
returned, my muscles begged for relief, and I prayed she would let me stand
and move around.  I felt her hand at my ankles, releasing the chain that
had held me bent over, my arms pulled between my legs.  She jerked on the
chain, dragging me to my feet.  Every muscle and joint I had yelled in
protest, but I was up, and moving.

   My hands were raised above my head, I felt a different texture under my
feet.  She moved away, and I tried to lower my hands, I couldn't.  They
were attached to something above me.  The scent of her perfume lingered in
the air, but, it was different.  Not the same perfume she had worn earlier.
My mind took this in, and was pondering it, when a different odour
permeated the room.

   I heard the hiss of an aerosol, and felt something cold on my left leg,
moving up my leg, and over my groin.  The liquid, or something was applied
to my entire body, and I shivered.  It was cold, and my skin started to
tingle.  I waited, and stood there, Tracey made no sound, said nothing to
me.  I tried to ask her what she was doing, but the gag made my question a
mumble.  I heard water running, it sounded like a shower.  What was going
on?

   That question was answered by action.  My hands were released, and the
chain jerked, I was to follow her lead.  We went into the bathroom, that I
knew because the sound of the shower was more distinct, and I could feel
the coldness of the tiles under my bare feet.

   Stepping into the tub was hard, but there was just enough slack in the
chain between my ankles to allow me to do so.  She had the water on full
cold, and made sure that every inch of my body was exposed to the spray.

   Mercifully, my rinsing was brief, and the room air felt delightfully
warm.  My body felt more exposed and more invigorated than it ever had
before.  I was dried off, and the texture of the towel was incredible.  It
must have been super thick and fluffy, or maybe it was just that someone
else was doing it to me, but it felt different and exciting.

   My hands were again secured above my head, stretching my body to it's
full extension.  I have to admit I'm not all that big, actually rather
small and fineboned really, but I keep myself in shape, so I could imagine
what Tracey saw before her.

   I knew she liked what she saw, and I was anxiously waiting for her next
move.  What happened was not what I had expected.  I felt something being
applied to my chest, something that had a distinct odour to it.  It seemed
she was drawing an outline on my ribcage, on both sides.  She waited a
moment or two, and then pressed something to my chest, on the left side. 
Her fingers smoothed the edges of it, and I felt the weight of it as she
removed her hand.  My skin was supersensitive it seemed, and I could really
feel the movement of the air in the room as she moved around me.  The
weight on the left side of my chest was joined by a matching weight on the
other side of my chest as she glued, or so it seemed, it to me.

   A million thoughts raced through my mind as she was doing this to me,
and I came to one conclusion.  We had talked of this before, but I never
thought she'd remember it.  I'd told her of a costume party I'd gone to
years before, a reversal party, when the guys went as girls and the girls
as guys.  I'd enjoyed it, the primping, and the feeling of the clothes, but
it was just a memory, not something I'd want to do again, or regularly.

   I knew what she was doing ..  she was dressing me, the stuff she had
sprayed on me was a hair remover, that was why my skin seemed super
sensitive, and the weight on my chest ..  breasts..  it just had to be.

   "Hey", I thought, "let's just go with it".  Grinning to myself, I
realized that in the position I was in, there wasn't a great deal I could
do about it anyway.

   She reached around me, and I felt something embrace my body.  It felt
slinky and satiny, and covered my torso.  I felt her fumbling at my
shoulders and realized that she was attaching the straps to the garment. 
"Of course" I thought, "With my arms tied over my head like this, she can't
just slip it on me".

   She started doing up the hooks starting between my breasts, and I felt
it getting snugger, supporting my new breasts, encasing my stomach.  It
felt sexy.  She adjusted the shoulder straps so that the corset, for that
was what it must be, fit properly.  I felt the garters brushing against my
naked thighs, and anxiously waited for the feel of stockings against my
shaven lags.  I sensed that she moved behind me again, and I felt her
fingers on my back.  Incredibly, the corset got tighter, the thing had
hooks in the front, and laces in the back.  Tighter and tighter until I
felt I could hardly breathe, my waist seemed compressed.  Mercifully, she
stopped.

   Through all of this, Tracey had not spoken a word, and my questions, my
comments were effectively stopped by the gag I still wore.  I felt a hand
at my ankle, taking off the cuffs that had joined my legs.  I raised the
leg, no mean feat when your hands are tied off above your head.  The feel
of that nylon sliding up my leg was incredible, and the natural result was
a stirring in my groin.  The cold shower had worn off.  A repeat of my
earlier experience brought things back under control, and I hoped that I
had learned my lesson.

   The other nylon brought no reaction, for which I was grateful, but the
feeling was indescribable.  She fastened the stockings to the garters, and
I felt the tension and the smoothness.  I rubbed my legs together, and the
sound of the nylons brushing against the other, the feel, the sheer
sensuousness was almost more than a guy could take.

   Again the hand at my ankle, and the feel of a shoe being put on my foot,
and my ankle released.  I felt as if I was on tip-toe, my heel seemed to be
raised in the air, but supported.  The muscles in my leg seemed strangely
tight, accommodating a new height.  The other shoe was put beside my foot
and I struggled to put my foot in it.  Succeeding at last, I stood, proud
and defiant, dressed in heels, hose, and a corset, bound, gagged and
blindfolded.

   Again, the hand on my ankle, raising my foot, I felt something being
drawn over my foot, and stopping at my calf.  The hand moved to the other
leg, and again, I raised that leg.  The panties, for that was what they
were, were slowly drawn up over my legs, my hips, and pulled tight.

   The front of the panties were pulled away from my tummy, and Tracey's
hands reached in, re-arranging my manhood.  I began to understand why women
took off their heels at every opportunity, I'd been standing in them for a
few minutes, and my feet and calf muscles were already starting to hurt.  I
was relieved when Tracey reached over my head, and released my hands from
their overhead position.

   She jerked on the chain and I stumbled forward, following her lead.  I
felt the chair behind my knees, and sat down with a sigh of relief.  My
hands were put on the arms of the chair, and secured.  The cuffs themselves
were removed, but the new restraints held my hands firmly.

   Even though I had only walked a few steps, from the bathroom to the main
part of the room, I had been conscious of my new breasts, moving as I did,
a strange new weight on my chest, the posture forced on my walk but the
heels I was wearing.  This scene was wild!!

   Tracey moved behind me, and released the ball gag I'd been wearing.  My
jaw was sore, and I moved it around a bit to relieve some of the pain.  My
mouth was dry, and I found it difficult to talk.

   "Tracey, I'm enjoying this, but isn't it a bit elaborate for an
afternoon?"

   The only answer I got was an "Ummmmm".

   She removed the blindfold then, for all the good it did me, I was
looking into a bright light, aimed directly at my face.  I couldn't see a
thing.

   A hand appeared out of the light, and her fingers brushed my face.  It
seemed that I was going to get the full treatment, makeup and all.  I have
no idea what she did, or what she used, it did feel nice tho'.  This female
pampering was alright, sure beats a quick shave in the morning.

   Eventually she was satisfied, because I heard rather than saw her close
the case she had been working from.  At some point I know she had applied
some glue to my nails, and the final step was to put long artificial nails
on all of my fingers.  My hands took on a new look, feminine somehow.

   She moved beside me, and took an earlobe in her fingers, I felt
something cold against it, and heard and felt a click.  My earlobe felt as
if it was on fire!  And then ..  she went to the other one, and did the
same thing!  It seemed as if I now had pierced ears, like it or not.  I
felt her fumbling with my ears and then I felt something long and dangling
brush my shoulder, it was an earring, and then a pair.

   A wig came next, long and blonde, she secured it in place, and then
brushed it out.  The long tress against my shoulders felt incredibly sexy.
I wondered what I would look like, dressed as a girl, or more exactly, as a
woman.  The silent act was getting to me though, Tracey and I had always
talked, and I wanted to know what she was doing, and why.  A few times I'd
asked her, and had gotten either no answer, or just a "SHHHH".

   My hands were released from the chair, and the light that had been
burning in my eyes was turned off.  Slowly my eyes adjusted to normal room
light, and I looked around.  Tracey had left the room, and closed the door
of the bathroom.

   I saw a note on the bed, beside a blouse, a slip, and a skirt.  "Put
these on" the note read, "and knock on the door when you have".

   I noticed the mirror over the dresser was draped with a towel, so my
desire to see myself was, for the moment denied.  Shrugging, I put the
blouse on, and found it was a perfect fit over my new shape.  The slip and
skirt fit perfectly as well, coming just above my knee.  I looked down at
myself and was amazed at how good it looked, and how good I felt.

   I was amazed at Tracey's expertise, and found myself wondering how I'd
ever match this when it was my turn at being Dom.  I also realized that the
tension had long ago evaporated, and I felt like a new man, er ...  woman.

   As instructed, I walked over to the bathroom door, feeling my nylon clad
legs brushing together, the restriction in my stride caused by my skirt,
altogether, a new and strangely exciting feeling.  A knock, and the door
opened.

   IT WASN"T TRACEY!!!

   The woman who stood there, with a smile on her face wasn't Tracey.  I
was stunned.

   "Hello Denise" she said, "I'm Kim."

   My jaw hung open, my mind was racing ..  I didn't respond, couldn't
respond.

   " Tracey and I cooked this up between us," she went on, " to make you
into a sexy young woman, for the weekend.  I'm a good friend of Tracey's,
and also a Dom in my own right, specializing in transformations like yours.
I must admit you look great, no one will know you're not what you appear to
be."

   As she was talking, she moved to the mirror, and removed the towel.  I
couldn't believe what I saw, two women, standing there, talking, and one of
them was ME!  She handed me a purse, and said "Tracey's waiting for you,
over at the Sabre Club, the address is in your purse, as well as enough
money for the cab fare" .

   Grinning, she put on her coat, opened the door, and looked at me.  "If
you're thinking you'll just stay here, and wait for her to come and get you
..  well ..  think again.  And, your male clothes have been taken home, so
that's all you've got.  Enjoy."

   She was right, all that was left in the room was a coat, and the purse.
I checked the purse, and there was ten dollars in it, not enough to get
home, so, I had no choice.  It was off to the Sabre Club.

   My mind was reeling, both from the sensations my body was feeling, and
as the implications of what she had said sunk in.  The click of the door
closing snapped me out of my reverie, and I looked around, panic starting
to rise.

   Here I was, a guy, dressed in women's clothing, little money, and no
means of getting home, unless I went along with Tracey's scheme.

   I walked over to the mirror to take inventory, to see if there was a
chance that I could get away with this.  Looking back at me was a woman,
blonde, blue eyes, a nice figure, a little on the tall side, but not overly
so.  Maybe, just maybe ...

   My hair fell to my shoulders, soft and full, I swung my head from side
to side, and was amazed at how it looked, and how it felt, just brushing my
bare shoulders.  My complexion was flawless, Kim had done a marvellous job.

   My eyes were dramatic, my lashes were full and rich, and emphasized by a
delicate interplay of colors on my lids.  She had done them in greens to
match my eyes.  My eyes stood out, sultry, and sexy.

   My lips were a deep red, matching my nails.  They looked soft and
inviting, the kind of lips I'd want to kiss.  Without conciously realizing
it, I ran my tongue over my lips, pouting them, getting ready to kiss the
image in the mirror.  Instinctively I leaned forward, to meet the girl
facing me, and then remembered it was me.  A faint blush appeared in the
image, adding to the sense of femininity.

   Brushing my hair off to one side, I was able to look at the earrings I
was wearing.  Long and dangling, they too just brushed my shoulders, the
gold links of the delicate chain complimenting my hair.  As I moved my head
slightly, I could feel their weight and movement.  It was an indescribable
feeling, and worth the soreness I felt.  The initial pain of piercing had
passed, and had now subsided to a minor ache.

   Around my throat was a matching chain necklace, very feminine.  A small
drop pendant was attached to it, drawing the eye to my cleavage.  I stopped
short at that point, and thought about what I had just been thinking, I'd
thought "My cleavage".  This impersonation was possible, just maybe it was.

   The blouse I was wearing was a simple and sexy, a deep plunge neckline,
and loose.  The sort of blouse I'd always liked Tracey to wear, the kind
that a guy could look down and see a lot of boob.  I leaned into the
mirror, and yep, you could.  Made me kind of grin, Tracey was really
getting back at me on this one.

   It was red, with loose puffy mid-arm length sleeves, that concealed my
more masculine arms.  I wouldn't call it exactly see through, but it didn't
leave a whole lot to the imagination, you could see the lace trim on my
corset pretty damn clearly.

   I stepped back a bit from the mirror so I could see more of the new me.
My skirt fit like a second skin, black and shiny, the tabs of my garters
were clearly outlined.  The looseness of the blouse concealed my less than
feminine waist, and the skirt emphasized the fullness of my hips.  I turned
sideways and was surprised at the flatness of my tummy, and the fullness of
my bust, I looked like a fox.

   A sudden thought occured to me, and no, my rising manhood was under
control, at least visually it was.  The confines of my panties were tight
and getting tighter, but there were no outward signs of my increasing
discomfort.

   I glanced over my shoulder, into the full length mirror, and saw the
whole me, 4' heels, red of course, dark nylons, shapely legs, tight skirt,
full breasted, knock-em dead makeup, and that glorious head of blondeness.
" I'd follow me anywhere" I thought, "That's one total woman there".

   My hands carressed my new body, over my hips, across my stomach, feeling
the flatness, and then over my breasts, the weight and feel of them
matching any real woman's natural equipment.  I revelled in the look and
feel of the woman I now appeared to be.

   I picked up my purse, confident that I could face the world, and saw a
bit of white sticking out of one of the outside pockets.  I took the
envelope out and saw it was addressed to "Denise" Sitting down, I opened it
and found a note from Tracey.

   "My dearest Denise" it began, and I did have to think for just a second,
then realized that's what Kim had called me, and it was the feminine form
of my name, Dennis.  I read on, and this is what Tracey had to say ....

   "My dearest Denise,

   By now you will have undergone some changes, and are alone, probably
wondering if I'll relent and come to save you from your 'Fate worse than
death', but I won't.  As a matter of fact, the owners of the motel are
friends of mine, and that room is slated to be re-decorated this evening,
so you can't stay there, that is, unless you want to 'entertain' the work
gang!.  Entirely up to you.

   There are a few things that will make your 'passing' a bit easier, so
pay attention, and I'll give you a few secrets that will make your life a
little easier.

   First, don't try to talk like a girl, in a high voice.  You'll do much
better talking softly, and a little breathlessly, sort of a Marilyn Monroe
type of voice.

   The skirt you're wearing will help you take shorter steps, and the heels
will correct your posture.  If I were you, I'd spend the time you're
waiting for the taxi practicing walking.  When you're walking, keep your
feet straight, and in a line, that'll help you look more feminine, just
think of models walking down a runway, and you'll get the idea.

   Getting into and out of a car is tricky, unless you don't mind the world
seeing your assets, so keep your knees together, and swing your legs into
and out of the car.  Sit and swing, ok?  That skirt is purposely short, so
you'll be showing a lot of leg, just be sure to keep your legs closed. 
Your blouse is loose, as you've no doubt noticed, actually, I kind of think
you've already looked down your own blouse to see your own boobs, so be
aware that other men will be looking too.  I'm looking forward to seeing my
new 'girlfriend', so hurry over!"

   I realized now what Tracey had done.  She'd taken everything I'd ever
said about women, all my fetishes and hang-ups, and made them real for me.
I had told her I loved red heels, dark stockings, garters and corsets,
short tight skirts, and loose blouses, and she'd given them all to me, from
the side of the object of my fantasies.  I had never really thought about
wearing them, just did enjoy looking at them.

   And, I realized, I'd best be getting going, it was almost six, and I
really didn't want to entertain the crew, as Tracey had so gently phrased
it.  I reached for the phone book and got the number of a taxi company. 
Trying to dial the number was fun, I wasn't used at all to the length of my
nails, and had to make more then a few attempts to get the number dialled.
Eventually I did it, and a voice answered.

   "Yes, I'd like to get a cab, please", I said, in what I hoped was a
feminine sounding voice, remembering to keep my voice low and sort of
breathless.

   "Yes Ma'am, and what's the address?"

   He bought it!!!  It worked!!!  I told him, and was told the cab would be
along in 15 minutes.

   Hanging up, I was elated, I was going to get away with it.  I practiced,
as Tracey had suggested, walking around the room, carefully putting one
foot in front of the other.  Glancing into the mirror, I saw what she had
meant, walking like a model.  My hips swung, undulated almost, looking very
female.  I was aware of the sensations of nylon clad legs brushing against
each other, the weight of my breasts on my chest, the tightness of the
skirt, the total sensation of appearing to be female.  Incredible.  Outside
the door, I heard the sound of a car horn, and then a knock on the door. 
Taking a deep breath, as well as my coat, I walked to the door, ready to
face the world as Denise.

   I saw the driver, a big burly man, walking toward the rear door of the
cab.  Stepping out of the security of the room, I closed the door behind
me, my fate sealed, as I didn't have a key to get back in, nor was the room
going to be a safe haven in an hour, due to the redecorating.  I was
committed.

   I walked toward the cab.  The driver was waiting with the door open. 
Trying to remeber what suggesions Tracey had given me, I hoped my outward
appearance was calm, because, inside me, I had a whole squadron of
butterflies on the wing.

   "Sit and swing", that was it, so I did.  I know the driver saw a vast
expanse of leg because he gave a little grin, and his eyes were riveted on
my legs.  This getting into a car like a lady was going to take some
practice!

   The driver settled into his seat, turned and looked at me.  "Where to,
Lady?"

   "The Sabre Club" I replied, doing my best Monroe imitation.  It worked
as the driver turned and drove off.

   I sat back, and tried to relax, wondering at the same time what further
delights Tracey had in store for me.  The Sabre Club wasn't too bad, low
lighting, soft music, good food, and dancing.

   "My God" I thought, "Dancing, it's also become a singles bar of sorts,
nah ...  she won't ...  or would she?" I really didn't know, I'd never have
figgered for her to get me all dressed up as I was, and for sure, not by
somebody else.  I debated with myself during the ten minute drive to the
club, and lost, not sure exactly what she had in mind for the rest of the
night.

   I guess I was deep in thought when the voice of the cabbie broke through
my thoughts.

   "Lady, we're here ...  the fare's 8 bucks."

   Reaching into my purse, I took the ten dollar bill and handed it to him.
Not wanting a repeat of his looking up my skirt, I opened the door and got
out.  About to slam the door shut, I heard him say "Lady, you forgot your
coat."

   "Damn!" That meant I had to bend over, reach into the cab, and get it.
He was grinning when I bent over, reaching in.  I knew what he was seeing,
and hoped he wouldn't notice the blush that seemed to be starting at my
toes and racing upward.

   As I reached in, I heard a whistle behind me, and just bits of some
comments.

   "Whooeee ..  look at the legs on her," " ...  skirt any shorter, it'd be
a belt"

   I didn't realize they were directed at me until I turned away from the
cab and saw the three young guys on the sidewalk.

   My face felt like it looked like a traffic light, on full red.

   I hurried past them and into the club.

   Standing at the doorway, I looked over the room for Tracey.  Panic set
in when I didn't see her, and I prayed I had just not seen her, that she
was here, somewhere.  I'd been looking for a person at a table for two, and
hadn't really looked at the tables for four.  In my next scan of the room,
I looked at all the tables, and to my mixed relief, and fear, saw her.

   She was sitting with two other girls, one of them Kim, the makeover
artist.  Kim saw me at the door, and waved me over.  Tracey turned to look,
and looked right past me.  If she didn't recognize me, then, I must look
ok, and the reactions of the men I'd run into so far confirmed that.

   Kim leaned over to Tracey, and pointed.  I could see that Tracey didn't
quite believe her, then the light of recognition came over her.  The look
of amazement was almost worth the embarassment I was feeling.

   As I walked toward Tracey, winding my way through the tables, something
was bothering me, just couldn't quite get a handle on it.

   Tracey stood up as I came up, reached out and gave me a big hug, and a
long passionate kiss.  I was more than a little taken aback, considering
how I was dressed.  Then it struck me.  There were no men at all in the
club!  Just women.

   "Tracey" I whispered in her ear, "What kind of place is this?  Where are
the men?"

   "Glad you made it, Denise" Tracey said, "Kim I believe you know, and
this is Michelle."

   Michelle smiled, and extended her hand.  Still in a daze, I took it and
mumbled something about being pleased to meet her, and turned to Tracey
again.

   "What is going on?  I asked, over the music.

   Tracey leaned over to me and said softly "The Sabre Club is under new
management since we were here last.  It's now a lesbian D/s bar, so be
careful".  She grinned at me, and winked.

   My stomach sank right down to the tips of my high heel clad feet.

   "Kim" said Tracey, "You did a marvellous job on Denise.  I didn't
recognize her when she came in.  She's a real knockout, I'm going to have
to fight off the other girls here, if I hope to take Denise home with us."

   "You should have seen the look on his ..  er ..  I mean her face, when I
opened the door of the bathroom, and she saw it wasn't you that had been
working on her.  It was priceless!

   "I had a lot to work with, so it was a fairly easy makeover.  The way we
had to tie her up made it a little hard, but that was the only way we could
have done it, without his ..er ..  her co-operation."

   I was embarassed by this conversation, particularly by the references to
my true gender, particularly in front of another stanger, Michelle.

   I looked over at her to guage her reaction to all of this, knowing that
she had to have caught the slips.  She had a small smile playing around the
corners of her lips, and a knowing grin came over her face as she saw me
looking at her.

   She, like Tracey and Kim, was a really good looking woman.  Her hair,
shoulder length, was thick and full, softly curled, framed a finely shaped
face.  Her eyes were brown, as was her hair.  I had no way of judging her
height, or figure, as she was sitting across the table from me, but her
blouse was low cut, like mine, and she filled it beautifully.

   She, like myself, wore a fine gold chain around her throat, with a small
pendant.  Her nails and lips were a deep red color, her makeup was
immpeccable.

   Kim and Tracey were still talking, and I brought myself back into the
real world, and listened.  Kim was asking Tracey something about Michelle,
how she had reacted when she found Tracey there.

   Tracey looked over at me and nodded.

   "Denise, you and Michelle are more alike than you realize," she said.

   "Huunhh?" was my intelligent response.  I was totally confused.

   Looking at Michelle blushing, it sunk into my head, Michelle had
undergone the same sort of transformation I had.  The two of us were men,
dressed in women's clothes, in a lesbian bar.  Where was this going to go?

   I glanced at Tracey and Kim, both were grinning from ear to ear.

   "Yes, Denise," Kim said, "neither of you two 'girls' really are what you
both appear to be.  Tracey and I have been friends for years, and both of
us have been a little annoyed at you guys, for your attitudes and behaviour
over the last little while, so we got together and planned a little
surprise for both of you."

   Tracey broke in, saying, "We've had this planned for the last several
weeks, getting the clothes we needed, and making the other arrangements. 
The two of you have an interesting week ahead of you!"

   "WEEK!!" both Michelle and I said, looking at each other, and at the
girls.

   "We arranged for a week's holiday for each of you, starting on Monday.
By this time next Sunday, you'll have a much better appreciation of what
it's like to be a woman, and how to behave."

   I was prepared to accept this stunt of Tracey's for the night, possibly
for the weekend, but a week was going too damn far.  I stood up, glaring at
Tracey.

   "This is going too far," I told her, my voice low and angry.  "No way am
I going to put up with that kind of crap, fun is fun, but this, this is .."

   "Sit down and shut up," she hissed at me, "this instant."

   Taken aback, I sat.  She had never spoken to me in that tone of voice
before, I could tell she was dead serious about this.

   "Just how do you think you're going to do anything about it, in the
condition you're in?  You've got no money, no transportation, you can't
even get back into our house, because I've taken your keys.  Dressed like
that, where could you go?  Off to see one of your macho friends?  They'd
laugh themselves silly!!  Get real, Denise, you're mine for the week!"

   Her words hit me like a driving rain.  And she was right.  There was
nothing I could do.

   "We can do this the hard way, or my way," she continued, "if you want a
pleasant experience, relax and enjoy, otherwise, I stand up here and now,
and tell the real girls in here what you really are.  Your choice."

   The full impact of what Tracey had said hit me.  "OK, your way, I'm
sorry.  It was just such a surprise."

   Tracey took my hand in hers and gave me a gentle squeeze.

   "You'll have fun, I promise."

   While we had been having our discussion, Kim and Michelle had remained
silent.  I looked over at Michelle, and saw understanding in his eyes.

   "I said the same things, a few minutes before you arrived," Michelle
said, "I guess we might as well relax and enjoy."

   Kim raised her hand to attract the waitress, who came over.

   "Yes Ladies, ready to order?"

   "We'll have salads all round, and a caraffe of white wine."

   After my afternoon, and the prospect of the week ahead, I wanted more
than white wine, and a lot of it.  Scotch would do, and now!!  I guess I
was muttering under my breath, as sometimes I was prone to do, because
Tracey asked me what I had said.

   "I said a scotch would do better, not wimpy wine."

   "Don't be petulant and a whiner, Denise.  Ladies drink wine, and, my
dear, you look like a lady, and you're going to act like one.  Do I make
myself clear?"

   "Yes'm, you do."

   "Much better."

   The wine arrived, and was poured.  I reached for mine and took a healthy
swallow, something being better than nothing.  I should have expected it,
but I didn't, the voice of Tracey reminding me to sip, not guzzle.  I
realized that she was serious, I was going to be feminized, like it or not.

   A silence descended on our table, each of us with our own thoughts, as
we waited for our meal.  I looked around the room, still finding it strange
that there were no men at all in here, at least none other than myself and
Michelle, and neither of us would win any awards for being macho.

   I found myself looking at the women in a different light, looking at
their clothes, their makeup and their jewelry, not just at the body
underneath.  Experiencing the same kind of feel as they did, the tightness
of the corset, the sensousness of nylons, the smell and feel of the makeup,
I felt a growing appreciation of what being a woman meant.

   I noticed that several other women wore jewelry like mine, a small fine
chain around their throats, with a pendant, I thought it strange, and
looked closer at the three sitting nearest to our table.  All three were
very striking, attractive, well built, and seemed to be a little taller
than the others at their table.  I was going to mention it as a topic of
conversation, but the arrival of our salads focused my attention.  I hadn't
eaten since breakfast that morning, and I was ravenous.

   Keeping in mind the reprimand over the wine, I paced myself with Tracey
and Kim, not taking more than they did, nor more often.  By the time we had
finished, I was still hungry, and ready for our main course.

   "That was good" Michelle said, "what's the main course?"

   Both the girls laughed.

   "Welcome to womanhood, Michelle" said Kim.  "Since men like us trim and
slim, we don't eat all that much when we're out with the girls.  That was
dinner, all of it."

   The expression on Michelle's face mirrored my own, I'm sure.  I was
ready for a large rare steak, with all the trimmings, and it sure didn't
look as tho' I'd be getting it.

   The waitress came by, and took our plates, offering an after dinner
drink.  Tracey ordered tea for all of us.  The hum of conversation in the
room allowed us a measure of privacy, so the girls were able to let
Michelle and myself into some of the plans for the week ahead, and the
preparations that had gone into our transformations, as well as why we were
dressed the way we were.

   We, Michelle and I, found out that our respective girlfriends had known
each other from high school, and had drifted apart after college.  They had
run into one another several weeks ago, and had spent the afternoon
together, talking and catching up on each other's lives.

   One of them, and neither was sure which one it was, had mentioned that
her boyfriend, either Mike or myself, had really made her angry over
something.  Had made some comments about something being "just like a
woman".  That, it seemed, had opened the floodgates.  Both Kim and Tracey
decided that kind of comment was getting far too prevalent with their
respective boyfriends, and that they should do something to stop it.  The
question was how?

   "Just like a woman" it seems was the operative phrase.  They decided to
make us, as they said, just like a woman.  It seems that Mike and I had
similar tastes, or in their phrasing, hang-ups, about what we liked our
women to wear, so they decided, that since we liked certain things so much,
we should get the opportunity to try them first hand.  That explained my
corset, and as I later found out, Michelle's garter belt and lack of
panties.  In the course of acquiring our outfits, the girls had run into an
organization, a group of like minded women, who helped them in locating
clothing that would both fit and compliment our male bodies.

   Actually, the group ran a private boutique, open to the general public,
but that also had "special sizes".  This we found out later.  The group had
one stipulation, all the men dressed by the group, had to wear an
identifing symbol, so that real women, privy to the secret, could
immediately spot the imposters.  Neither girl would tell us what that was.

   As we talked, I became aware of an increasing pressure.  Drinking tea
didn't help my problem at all.  Tracey noticed my discomfort.

   "You and Michelle should go powder your noses, I think you'd feel more
comfortable".

   While it was something I desperatly needed, I wasn't too sure about the
mechanics of it, but Michelle stood, waiting for me.

   "We'll wait for you here," said Kim.  "Don't be long."

   I stood, immediately feeling the wine we'd had with dinner, I didn't
feel all that secure, perched as I was on 4" heels.  Taking a deep breath,
I started off, with Michelle.  I heard behind me "Denise".  I turned, and
saw Tracey holding my purse out to me.  Groaning, I walked back to get it.

   "A girl never, never goes to the ladies without her purse," said Tracey.

   "Yeah, right," I said, turning.

   "Denise!" I heard her say.  Turning, she beckoned me closer.  Bending
over, she said, "Remember too, Ladies sit."

   Then the realization of what she said hit me.  "The Ladies." Dressed as
we were, the men's room was out, if indeed the Sabre had a Mens's room.  My
knees, not too firm at that point anyway, turned to jelly.

   I balanced my need against my fear, and the pressures within decided the
issue, I had to go.  Pushing the door open, Michelle and I entered the
inner sanctum, hoping, I think, for some privacy.

   Instead, we were met with a line of women, waiting for an open cubicle.
Unlike the typical men's room, these women talked to one another, I was
floored.

   Several of the women had turned as we entered, and seeing us, had
smiled. The others remained looking straight ahead.

   "I haven't seen you before, is this your first visit to the Sabre Club,"
said one of the women.  I hoped Michelle would answer, but the woman was
looking directly at me.  "Yes, it is.  Our first visit."

   "My name is Gail, I'm pretty much of a regular here, and this is my
friend Susan.  What's your name?"

   "Hi Gail, Susan, I'm Dennis, er Denise, and this is Michelle," I
stammered, hoping my mistake would go unnoticed.

   Gail's eyes smiled, she had caught my mistake, and it seemed it didn't
matter.

   "You're both attractive young women," she said, "I hope you enjoy our
little club".

   It was then I noticed Susan wore a necklace similar to the ones Michelle
and I wore.

   She entered a stall then, and closed the door.  Susan turned then and
looked at us directly.  She looked uncomfortable, until she saw the
necklaces we wore.  An understanding look came over her face, and she
visibly relaxed.  The necklaces identified us as "sisters".

   Finally a stall came free, and I was able to get some privacy, without
being on display, and some time to think.  After instinctively trying to
undo my non-existant fly, I figured out what was required, and re-arranged
my clothing so I could relieve myself.

   I took the time to think through what was happening.  The number of
women, attractive though they were, wearing necklaces similar to mine, put
paid to the idea that this was a lesbian bar.  If I was right, the ratio
was about 50/50 men and women, real women that is.

   The girls had mentioned an organization, this must be an offshoot of
that organization, one devoted to, or interested in, the feminization of
men.

   The knowledge made me feel much easier, here I could learn the ground
rules without fear of exposure, because everyone knew what I was.  Minor
mistakes would be corrected, so that I could function better in the outside
world, and not give myself away.

   As I stood, rearranging my clothes, I realized I liked the feel of them,
liked the way I looked, and wanted to get on with the week, whatever Tracey
wanted to do.

   Michelle was waiting for me as I left the cubicle, so we were able to
leave the room together.  Smiling, we walked back to the table.

   The girls, Kim and Tracey, were getting ready to leave when Michelle and
I got back to our table.  They had paid the bill, and were chatting with
each other and laughing.  Their laughter died as we approached, and each of
them looked at her feminized boyfriend with a smile on her face.

   "Let's be off then," Tracey said, "and we'll see you and Michelle over
at Boxer's, Kim." Tracey and I left the club, followed by Kim and Michelle,
and went seperate ways when we reached the sidewalk.  I was feeling a
little, well, a lot better about my appearance now, at least better than
when I had first gotten out of the cab that had brought me to the club.  I
was reasonably sure that I looked the part of an attractive young woman,
even if I didn't really act like one.

   I felt a sharp elbow in my ribs as I watched Kim and Michelle walk away.
I was frankly turned on by their appearance, and was appreciating the view
as any red blooded male would.  That drew the ire of Tracey, whose elbow
brought me back to reality.

   "You're every bit as sexy as Michelle is, and I think you've got better
legs than her," said Tracey, "but that doesn't mean you can stare and leech
after her." She started off down the street, and I turned and followed.  My
improved confidence allowed me to be more aware of the sensations the
clothes made, on my walk, and on how it felt.  I was amazed at the sound of
my heels as I walked, at how much louder womens shoes were in comparision
to my own normal footwear.  I was aware too, of how that added height
altered my posture, I felt, or rather sensed, how my butt swayed, and my
new breasts jiggled.  I found it more than a little thrilling, and
strangely exciting.

   The mixed perfume that Tracey and I wore wafted into my nostrils,
providing an aura of feminity in the city.  I was concious too, of my
earrings swaying as I walked, brushing my neck.  Aware too, of my hair, or
rather wig, brushing my shoulders.  As we turned a corner, I became aware
of the wind, carressing my legs, and the feel of my nylon clad thighs
brushing against one another.  The feelings were almost indescribably
sensous.

   We had walked, Tracey and I, several blocks, when I asked her where we
were going.

   She replied "Oh ..  over to Boxer's.  It's just a few more blocks.  How
are your feet?  When she mentioned it, I realized that the marvellous
sensations I had been feeling had masked the abuse my feet had been taking.

   "Damn sore, it feels like I've been walking on tiptoes all night."

   The only response my complaint got was a grin.

   "Figgured" she said, "It's not far now."

   "What kind of place is this Boxer's?" I asked.

   "Just a club" Tracey replied, "A stage show, that kind of thing."

   Funny, I thought, never heard of it.

   "When we get there, you stick close to me, it's usually crowded and very
noisy.  I don't mind losing you, but I'm sure you don't want to lose me.
... for obvious reason's," and she grinned, looking me over from head to
foot.  "Behave as I do, and you'll be allright.  This is a straight place,
and they might not be as understanding as they were in the Sabre.  We'll be
meeting Kim and Mike, er Michelle here, so you won't be totally alone."

   "Relax," she said, "and enjoy it, you don't have much choice."

   She was right, and besides, I was kinda getting to like being dressed
like this.  It sure beat a suit and tie.  We got to Boxer's, and the signs
outside proclaimed it to be "Ladies Night".  The entrance was down a flight
of stairs and we were met by the doorman, who looked us over, and we
obviously met with approval as he opened the door and let us in.

   "Enjoy yourselves, Ladies," he said as we passed.

   Tracey paid the cover at the wicket, and we went down a dimly lit
hallway, following the sound of loud music.  We entered a large room,
dominated by a stage set in the center.  It was empty.  The room itself was
crowded, seemingly all women.  Tracey leaned close to me, and whispered,
well actually yelled, considering the music, "Can you see Kim?  They should
be here, probably down near the stage."

   I looked, and saw her, waving at us, and motioning us over.  Michelle, I
noticed was sitting very quietly beside her, and looking into her glass.

   "There," I said.

   Tracey looked and started off, forcing her way through the crowd. 
Remembering what she had said, I started off after her, determined not to
be left alone.

   When we got to the table, I sat gratefully in the chair, anxious to
remove some pressure from my now aching feet.  Walking a mile in heels was
more than I had bargained for.

   "Just in time," Kim said, "Johnny's due up next."

   Johnny, I wondered, a singer of some kind?

   The house lights dimmed, and a drum roll came out of the massive
speakers.  A spot light hit the stage, and figure appeared.

   The room exploded, as all the women began to scream,"Johnny!! 
Johnny!!", even Kim and Tracey were on their feet, their eyes rivetted on
the figure in the spotlight.

   I felt a kick, and saw Tracey impatiently gesturing at me to stand.  I
stood, as did Michelle.

   The figure, Johnny, strode to the center of the stage, the cape he wore
billowing behind him.  The girls around thge stage shrank back a bit, as to
allow him room to perform, and then sat, their eyes rivetted to him.

   He reached to his neck, and with a flourish, tossed the cape to the rear
of the stage.  He was an imposing man, well over six feet, strong and
muscular, like a cat.  His muscles rippled under his skintight shirt, his
thighs were massive.  Looking around at the audience, the girls were all
leaning forward, their chests heaving, their lips parted, their eyes
sparkling.

   The music started, slowly at first, and building to a rapid primeval
beat, he began to move, to dance, and the girls were enthralled.

   The sweat started building on his forehead, providing highlights under
the lights as he moved, flowed around the stage.  He turned his back to the
audience, and ripped off his shirt.  Turning, he tossed it into the
screaming horde of women, who clawed and fought for this sweat soaked
talisman of masculinity.

   He played the audience beautifully, teasing and tormenting the women,
who loved every sexy minute of his performance.  He allowed selected
members of the audience to help him remove his boots, to unzip the long
zippers on the legs of his pants, and each so chosen was ecstatic.  The
show continued, until Johnny was onstage wearing a G string.  He paraded
around the perimeter of the stage, coming close to the outstretched hands
reaching for him, to touch him, to feel his masculine power, the women were
like animals.

   It was hard not to be swept up in the animal lust present in the room,
and though I fought it, I felt the passion sweeping over me.  I found
myself reaching as well, hoping to touch this man on stage, along side me
Michelle, Kim and Tracey were reaching too.

   He stopped, looking down at the outstretched hands, and reached out,
grabbing my hand, pulling me on stage with him.

   I froze, wondering if I was to be unveiled, if I would expose myself as
the imposter I was.  The music rose in volume and the intensity of the beat
increased.  I looked out at the audience, screaming in frenzy, knowing the
act was reaching it's climax.

   He stood in front of me, moving sinously in time to the music, my body
matching his movements of it's own accord.  He reached to his waist, moving
around me, so that I stood between he and the audience.

   With a flourish he ripped off his g-string, and looped it around my
neck, drawing me close to him.  He kissed me, and was gone.

   I stood there, shocked and amazed, at the passion in the room, and in
me. The music died, and the house lights came up again.  The noise was
wild, screams, clapping, and shouting.

   I saw the steps off the stage, and walked to the table.  Hands reached
out to me as I passed by tables of strangers, their eyes glazed, envious,
that I had been chosen by their idol.

   Breathless, I took a swallow from the drink that somehow had arrived at
the table during the show.

   Tracey had a grin on her face, enjoying my reaction to the events of the
last few minutes.  It had gone farther than she had dared hope, I was
really getting into the role I was playing.

   The remainder of the evening was anticlimatic, after that experience,
being drawn up on the stage with the star of the revue, what could possibly
top it.  After watching several more sets, Tracey and I left, leaving Kim
and Michelle at the bar.

   The fresh air was a pleasant relief after the smoke and noise of the
bar, and the several hours off my feet had helped.  We walked back to our
car, and headed off, I thought, to home.  When we were moving Tracey turned
to me and asked "Well?"

   "Well what?"

   "Did you enjoyu the show?  It looked as though you did, particularly
when you were up on stage, looking like a bitch in heat."

   I had to think about that one.  I had enjoyed it, had gotten swept up in
the moment.  It was as if, being dressed as a woman, I had felt like one,
and had their desires.

   "Yeah, I did."

   "Damn," was the comment she made.

   "Hunh?"

   "I figured it would be a good object lesson for you, you've dragged me
to enough topless bars, and I really haven't really enjoyed the experience,
not at all.  I really thought you'd be a little embarassed at seeing a man
up there, showing all he's got."

   "Right, but then, you haven't been dressed up like I am.  This outfit
makes you think like a woman.  I can't help it.

   "Look at me," I said, "my skirt is so short and tight, I've got to watch
how and where I sit.  This outfit exudes sex, even I feel it, wearing it."
Grinning, I leaned over towards her, and sang in my sultriest voice,
"You've made me feel like a natural woman," that old torch song from the
70's.

   Laughing, Tracey reached out and put her hand on my leg, slowly stroking
my nylon clad thigh, getting higher with each stroke.  It felt incredibly
pleasant, soft, cool, sexy, and very arousing.  I reached out towards her
leg, and got my hand firmly removed for my trouble.

   "NO!" Tracey said, "Tonight, I'm in charge, I do the seducing, and don't
forget it."

   I leaned back in the seat, anticipating the rest of the night.