Sucker 10 After my night at the Lotus Club, Gabe was easy. Boy pussies are as resilient and stretchy as girls' vaginas, I guess, if they aren't torn by misuse. Mine felt fine by early evening the next day. Maybe it was a vaginal hormone cream Debbie spread on my pussy lips the next morning to soothe them, but even by noon I began to feel empty, to yearn to feel re-filled down there, a little. Maybe it was also a little something extra Debbie put into my milk shake, but all day long I felt sweet and pretty, just lovely, eager for another big adventure! I kept smiling and humming, I don't know why! Marcie came over in the late morning, and the three of us went shopping and had lunch. She herself selected the outfit I'd wear for her husband. A little retro, a draped satin blouse and short velvet skirt, rather flattering we all agreed, and very provocative. And of course black stockings and a garter belt -- men are such fetishists about that kind of gear. Black lace crotchless panties. I don't think we stopped giggling together the whole time about male sexuality and its demands and dreams! That strange species! And I enjoyed being the center of my two dear girlfriends' attentions! I told them both about a few of my boy friends from the previous evening, the pathetic grunting and the loud victory cries when finally they got off. We all three agreed it was far better to be a woman and have them service us than the other way around. When we parted Marcie couldn't get over how much I'd changed even from the woman she'd watched exercising only a week or so earlier. "You've really done wonders with him, Debbie!" she kept telling my wife. And "Samantha, you're so lucky to have Debbie -- so many men would eat their hearts out to be where she's put you! I'm so happy for you now!" To me privately she added in a low voice, "You were OK before, honey, but you're really great now!" I had to agree. Gabriel -- I sensed immediately that both of us preferred "Gabriel," not "Gabe" -- turned out to be compliant enough, and unlike any of the men the previous night ready to submit to anything I proposed. Marcie had him thoroughly tamed! A tiger in the office but a pussycat in bed, maybe as an escape from heavy responsibilities at work, maybe simply because Marcie wanted him that way, easier to deal with or deceive. A true sub! A very nice man, really! He arrived home from his office party slightly tizzled. Marcie wished him a happy birthday, introduced me as her dearest girlfriend, then said she was leaving the two of us alone for a few hours, she had to see Debbie about something. And she was gone. I looked at him, and he looked at me. I realized he had no idea who or what I was, and I wasn't sure he remembered why I was there. So I took charge. On impulse I said, "Why are you still in that chair? Shouldn't you be on your knees when I'm in the same room with you?" He leaped up at once and apologetically fell to his knees! Just drunk enough, and gentleman enough, and submissive enough! And that set the tone for the evening! From then on, everything we did together was at my expressed command, to service my desires. It was wonderful, ordering a grown man around for once! What a treat! I got him down to the buff, naked and cringing in embarrassment -- even though he didn't have a bad build at all -- and he was mine! I let him undo my satin blouse and my bra, and I dangled my breasts over his mouth enticingly before lowering them first one, then the other, to where he could close his lips over them like a baby. He sucked on one, then the other so gratefully and deliciously that I wondered if Marcie would hire him out to me by the hour! Who was the whore now? His lips on my tits were heavenly! He was a prize! I blew him as a reward for smooching my ass, because I'd promised Marcie I would, and then when he'd recovered his breath and his erection I got onto my knees and thrust my cute buttocks high in the air, and reached under and guided him into me, because I'd promised Marcie that's what I'd do. And because I wanted to reward him for being so nice! He was so excited he never noticed my genitals I'm sure. He mounted me like an eager puppy, and by the time he'd cum deep inside me he was practically my slave! I patted him on the head as I left their house, and told him to be grateful for everything Marcie allowed him to do for her. He nodded, eyes wide, imprinting my words on his mind. I told him to call her "Miss Marcie" whenever they were alone, to emphasize that he had no claims on her, that she could go do whatever she wanted at any time. He nodded. "With anyone," I added wickedly. He nodded slowly, more reluctantly I thought. "Even stay out with someone else all night," I added on impulse, because Marcie had done that with me during our week together but had worried about him the whole time, what he'd think. That brought such a pained, mournful expression to his face as he struggled to agree that I added, "If she needs to punish you for failing to please her." He nodded, grateful for the condition, obviously resolving never to give her cause. When I got back home, Marcie and Debbie were chatting in the kitchen. I smiled and told Marcie she would find him a changed man. She later phoned Debbie to say he was indeed changed, miraculously and wonderfully, a new man! That Debbie should be sure to thank me! When Debbie asked me what in the world I'd done with him, I told her teasingly that some girls know secrets about some men. Better for me if Debbie doesn't know them, I was thinking. Or did she? I felt wonderfully self-confident after my little session with Gabriel. Filled with pride in the power of my own femininity. Self-assured. Ready for Bruce. The next morning was Friday, the beginning of my long-awaited weekend. I was plenty ready to play girlie with Bruce while Debbie watched, if she chose. Now I was sure I could teach her a few things. Debbie went to her office to attend last minute matters, and all through the morning I laid out and packed my different outfits -- for travelling, for cocktails, for the pool, for the formal Saturday Night dance, and of course intimate wear for lounging in private. And for bed, the most gorgeous nightgowns any girl ever put on and then took off. Even for church on Sunday if I woke up in time and chose to go -- I had the most darling black suit, the jacket snug at the waist, flared at the hips and bursting at the bodice, where a modest froth lace dickey barely concealed the cleft between my breasts. It was divine! I'd heard that all sorts of re-couplings took place after chapel at the Avalon, when men and women alike could feel that all their sins were forgiven, their spirits refreshed, and physical communion with others especially desirable. I certainly didn't want to feel left out. The phone rang! It was Debbie calling from her office. "You about ready, Samantha honey? Excited?" "You know I am, Debbie! It'll be lovely! Will you be home soon?" "That's just it, baby! I'm a bit delayed here. I still have things to do, and I still have to get home to pick up a few things. Why don't you come down here now and I'll introduce you to Bruce. Then you two can go on ahead and I'll meet you at the Avalon in time for dinner, if I can get away by then." "All right!" I felt a momentary pang. Despite my self-confidence the idea was a bit daunting. None of Debbie's associates knew what had been happening with me, about my transformation. So far as I knew, anyhow. What would they think of me, a man who chose to be a woman? I did it well, I knew that now. But still! I suddenly realized, now I'd be one more of those man-women who came to the office to meet Bruce and then go out with him! How would I stack up against those other girls? Debbie had said that the girls in the office were usually envious of them. Would they envy me? I hoped so! There was no problem, as it turned out. I stopped off at Vita's on the way in for touching up, and Allison was awe struck at the improvement in my appearance. "You're really into this now, aren't you," she said. "I've started in on my boyfriend. Had him in here a few times. He might even turn out to be as cute as you! But he fights me every step! He knows the more I work him over, the less attractive he is to other girls. But when I kick him out I want him to be a real fairy princess! Any advice?" "Deck him out and set him up in a back room at the Lotus Club," I told her. "That's what Debbie did to help me accept it my new gender. Guaranteed to take the starch out of any man. After a session like that there's no way for a man to respect himself as a man. Or survive as a man. When he remembers what he's done, what men have done to him, how he felt when they did it, he'll have to go gay or accept that he's a girl. Or do both!" "Both would be beautiful," Allison commented. "If he turned out like you I might even keep him! Not as a boyfriend any more of course! Does your wife have boyfriends on the side now that you're no longer qualified?" Again, a thought that had never occurred to me! But this was not the weekend to worry about such a thing -- I was now committed to sleep with my own boyfriend, after all, with no time to worry whether Debbie was doing the same thing! Was she? Who? When, during my road trips? Someone better than me at making her happy? I'd never reached her sexually, until she started making me into a replica of herself, sort of. Was that what this was all about? Not likely! No, there was no time to think about it! Allison decided that for my big weekend I should have huge eyelashes to bat innocently at my man from between his legs, and she glued and interwove them with painstaking care. "Don't worry, Samantha," she said. "With what I'm doing, they won't come off until you want them to come off. And when you see them, you won't want them to come off ever." She held up a mirror. When I saw the effect, demure yet deeply seductive, I had to agree. I had heavy lashes. I saw the world as if from underneath a thick fringe that swept down with every blink. One more thing girls do to look attractive for guys! It was remarkable though how those lashes made me into a woman of mystery! The tricks we learn! When I arrived at Debbie's office I was perfect -- flawless makeup on top of the indelible colors I always wore, every curl fetching, one curl pulled down teasingly in front of each ear, a few "accidentally" but charmingly tumbling over and softening my brow, eyes intriguing. Debbie's secretary Maria looked up at me with her professionally welcoming face for a moment before she realized who I was, then broke into a radiant smile! "Samantha!" she said! "You're gorgeous! Debbie told us you've been coming along fabulously, but none of us dared dream you'd finish up looking this good! I'll tell her you're here!" Us? Debbie's whole office knew? Maria pressed a button on her intercom and still looking at me she said, "He's here, Debbie. And I must say, you've done a marvelous job with him! I'd never know if I didn't already know. He's perfect! Bruce will eat him up!" And I heard Debbie reply, "You have that backward, honey! But that's what we wanted, isn't it? Tell him I'll be right out!" Knowing I'd heard, she cocked one high plucked eyebrow at me, smiled, and said nothing. I cocked one of mine at her, and the two of us grinned. "If you should ever want to leave Debbie, honey," she said. "I want first dibs on you!" That was flattering, but what did it mean? That Maria was a lesbian? That she sensed I could be a dominant woman, as I'd been with Gabriel, and she liked that? That she'd like to tie up with a male she could manipulate? Could I possibly be dominant with a woman? I never had been. As a man I'd always been courteous and polite, considerate if not submissive. The way I now was as a woman. The way I'd become a woman. Or was I just being cooperative, doing whatever Debbie asked for this one weekend in exchange for a lifetime of blow jobs? Had I in fact given up my manhood altogether in exchange for that lifetime of blow jobs? Would there be anything there for Debbie to blow for much longer? Was there a contradiction there somewhere? Was Debbie's secretary straight but something of a trannie hag, she liked feminized men? Too many mysteries here. I gave up speculating. Debbie appeared. "I may not be able to get away until late," she told me, her eyes signifying admiration for the way I'd gotten dolled up -- Vita had been my own spur-of-the-moment idea -- but also regret that she'd miss out on early stages of my long-anticipated performance. "But you and Bruce will hit it off, I'm sure! Come, I'll introduce you." Down the hall to another door, a quick knock, a rich male voice calling "Come!" and we were inside his office. I stared, and he looked back at me with a faintly amused expression. Mocking, superior, thinking that here was one more straight guy gone crooked for the sake of a mere woman, a temptation to which he was of course immune? No, I realized, it was his usual expression, reflecting a certain detached self-confidence. It was in fact rather appealing. Here was the man who was what all this had been about! Satisfying him sexually. Satisfying Debbie by satisfying him sexually, so Debbie would be willing to satisfy me, strictly speaking, though that point was now just about lost among the preliminaries and contingencies. "Samantha," Debbie said, needlessly doing the formal honors. "This is Bruce. Bruce, Samantha. I suspect you two will get on splendidly. But I have work to do -- please excuse me!" I looked around, and she was gone! I looked at Bruce and he looked at me -- a cat checking out a canary? No, he was all solicitude! "We'd better get going," he said, coming around from behind his desk. "Want to use the Ladies' first, Samantha? It's a two hour drive, and we'll only just arrive in time for cocktails as is." He then paused, recalling his manners. "You're just lovely, Samantha! Everything Debbie promised you'd be!" "Thank you," I said. I felt pleased by the compliment, even though its meaning was obscure -- it was only a gay man's welcome to a recent convert, sort of. "You're rather handsome yourself!" He was, too, just as Debbie had described him. Dark, almost piercing eyes, and a lithe way of moving. Unaccountably I felt a bit nervous -- would he be satisfied with me after all? I was glad I'd thought to stop at Vita's for a last touch up and polish. I did want to look pretty for him! We drove to the Avalon in near silence,. He knew I think that I needed some time to get used to his physical presence after he'd been a figment of my imagination all these weeks, and he didn't force conversation. I kept glancing over at him as he drove. I liked what I saw -- some rough-hewn edges even alongside the polished. Now and then I caught him glancing at me too, and when our eyes met he always smiled at me reassuringly. By the time we arrived I felt comfortable. I found a way to be. Not compliant or he'd find me tiresome. Not dominant or he'd feel annoyed. Coquettish felt just about right! Teasing. "You've been here before, I see," I mused as he paused to pick up a key at the registration desk, then skillfully navigated through two parking lots and stopped the car alongside the "Honeymoon Villa" Debbie had reserved for us. "Have you taken many honeymoons before this one?" "Lots," he replied, with an appreciative grin. "With lots of brides." "Grooms too, I bet," I said. He looked puzzled. I decided not to press it. Lots of men have limited wit for small talk. He carried our luggage from the car into the villa. It was luxurious enough, with tapestries and draperies everywhere, both a tub and an enclosed shower, a patio with a jacuzzi, a well-furnished sitting room, and on an elevated platform in the middle of the largest room, a huge round bed. Then, in an adjoining alcove though in full view of that massive round bed, another smaller bed. "Look," I said, pointing at the extra bed. "If this is a Honeymoon suite, what's that for? A mother-in law?" Bruce was amused. "No, not in this case. Debbie asked for that bed. Maybe she doesn't trust her husband alone in bed with another man, and wants to see for herself that they don't begin fooling around? Maybe it's for whoever snores the loudest? Don't worry, baby, it'll be used! Now change into something romantic, and we'll try the restaurant after a little tete-a-tete at the bar. Do you dance?" "No," I said, trying to send him a smoldering look from underneath my heavy eyelashes. Then I wriggled my hips. "But if you whistle a few bars, I can fake it." He appreciated that one. "Good. I love dancing. You just follow my lead, all right?" "Yes, certainly, sir," I replied, maybe a little too flippantly. "Even when we aren't on the dance floor," he added, looking directly at me from under those dark brows. "Anywhere," I said, realizing that he was establishing our rules of engagement. "But especially on the dance floor." For our first night together I'd chosen a pale blue silk organza, the most romantic dress I owned. He was waiting for me in the sitting room when I emerged, and the way he looked at me made all the trouble I'd taken over all the previous weeks well worth while! "Thank you!" I said before he could speak, with a gracious lilt in my voice. "You don't have to say anything. Your face just said it all!" He took my hand. "Then let's just go in."