Pasties And G-Strings

I had been out clubbing again, the only thing that seemed to take my mind off my problems. The problems seemed to be piling up, from my lack of a job to the rent being past due, you name it, and it had gone wrong.

My name is Erin Waldrop, twenty-three years old, a college graduate and in all kinds of trouble. I shouldn’t be going out, since the few remaining dollars I do have vanish quickly at a club. The fact that I had given up hope allowed me to forget why I should save any remaining money I have.

At last count, that was a whopping fifty-seven dollars. Not enough to do anything with or change the predicament that I was in, but enough to allow me to forget about it. Since my stomach was growling, I instinctively knew that the going out would have to stop, I was down to my last TV dinner, and all the drinking would not fill my belly. In the last month alone I had lost twenty-six pounds, yes, most of it needed to go, but from now on any lost weight would start to show a few bones.

I have tried everything I could think of until a few days ago I decided just to give up. Resumes sent out by the hundreds, every job listed in want ads pursued, and all local businesses had received a copy of my resume. The cost of printing and mailing all those resumes a staggering two-hundred and thirty dollars. Yet nothing happened, not even a reply to any of my inquiries. I began thinking it was a conspiracy to break me down and make me insane. The break me down did occur, as I often shed tears of frustration, and the insane part seemed to be getting more of a foothold every day.

I lay awake that night until almost three A.M., but finally, the call of nature made me get up. I went to the bathroom, then made my way to the kitchen. As I passed the hall, I noticed a letter that had been slipped underneath the door. I knew what it was, just surprised that I had not received one sooner. I opened it and scanned the letter. I had until the thirty-first before I would be evicted. The landlord apologized in the letter for being so heartless, but her bills were also due, and she needed a steady income to be able to handle them. I understood, but that didn’t change the fact that in ten days I would be homeless.

Desperate I opened my laptop and scanned the local help wanted, our local paper being proud to embrace the electronic revolution, their help wanted ads all in digital format. One of the new ads stood out from the rest, an audition for a reality show that was being held at our local mall. No details were given, but you had to appear in person to find out any more information. What the hell, I need to get out anyway. I dressed as nice as I could, I really need to go to the laundromat soon since most of my clothes are looking worn and unkempt, the truth is dirty and stinky, but the worn and unkempt part sounds better.

The mall was a short bus ride from my apartment, and the line for the audition almost made me get back on the bus. All of this and it was only nine o’clock in the morning. Nothing ventured; nothing gained, so I decided to wait it out. It was three frustrating hours later when I actually talked to someone. Then they just looked me over, asked a couple of questions and sent me to another line. Like I said, the stars seem to be out to get me, or my karma is so bad that I am doomed to a slow and painful death. Either way things were not looking any better. I waited, then waited some more before I finally was able to get an interview.

The lady was very nice, polite and genuinely interested in me. She was a little older than me, well proportioned; you have to remember that I am male of the species and very interested in females. We talked for over an hour, a fact that I noticed no other person interviewed had accomplished. She made apologies for having to take the time to talk to the others but gave me an address to come to tomorrow for a more in-depth interview.

The appointment was for eight in the morning, and I was to dress casually. I was told it would be lengthy, and she would include lunch in the deal. I told her I would be there, knowing that I would have trouble just getting up that early, much less getting there on time. The next morning did arrive sunny and hot, not a good omen for the day. I made all my preparations, got dressed and took the bus to the address given. I had rummaged through all of my clothes finding a shirt and pants that almost looked clean and did not smell.

The address was in an office complex, a rather luxurious one and soon I found her office. These were single offices with a common receptionist for several of the office holders. I signed in, and soon Bethany made her appearance. She greeted me warmly and led me back to her office; it was quite fancy. Obviously, the company she worked for was well to do. I sat down, and she handed me a questionnaire to fill out. I was informed ahead of time that it is quite thorough and very personal at times.

“Your name will not appear on the questionnaire at any time, either now or in the future. Your true identity will only be known to myself.”

The candidate we are looking for will have certain characteristics and qualities; this questionnaire will help us find out if you fit these criteria. I will make the final decision if you qualify, and then any further dealings with my company will be handled with a fake name. At no time will your true identity and the new you will be linked.

I understood her in a way but wondered why the intrigue and different identities. It took me about an hour to fill out the questionnaire, with several moments of severe embarrassment at some of the topics. She got me a drink and then she went over the answers. There was never a giggle or even an eyebrow raised at my answers. She did make prolific notes as she reviewed my responses.

She took a couple of minutes to formulate her questions, then asked if I was hungry, she knew it was early, but there would be less of a crowd at the restaurant. I was a little hungry but more than that I needed a little time to settle down. My mind was racing about trying to figure out to handle my uneasiness. The questions had really hit home, and I wondered if I had made the right choices in my answers.

She told me to come on; there was a nice quiet restaurant down the block, and we can eat there. I checked my pocket for my wallet and found out that in my haste this morning I had forgotten it. She noticed and told me to relax she was treating. The sigh that escaped my mouth was noticeable, and she giggled a little.

We ordered salads with a side of quesadillas, with iced teas to drink. The service was fast and within five minutes we were served. We ate in silence, then as the dishes were cleared she took out her pad and began the questions. I kind of hoped we would go back to the office for any further discussions, but she thought otherwise. Over the next hour, she managed to ascertain my situation. She was a good interviewer, asking the right question and before I knew it, I had told her everything about my predicament.

I relaxed a little knowing there were no more secrets to divulge and waited for the next question. Two and a half hours later we returned to her office. Her seemingly quite happy with me dragging behind. I felt quite confident that since she knew everything about me that I had no chance to get any kind of job with them. Being realistic who would hire anybody with no experience and credit that was nonexistent. Then add in all of the other factors, about to be evicted, no money left, and very severe depression and any company would be insane to deal with me.

Back at the office, she told me a little about the show and my opportunity. It was a reality show, very intent on being authentic. The candidate would not know what would be imposed on them, a surprise after they were transformed. The reality was that the transformations were very authentic, and the situations were common day to day living. There would be no camera crews following me around, but select video would be captured from time to time with hidden cameras. There would be a network of helpers placed in my circle of friends, workers, or just acquaintances to keep an eye on me and help if I encountered problems or obstacles that I couldn’t handle.

At no time would they make themselves known to me, just help me out and then return to their activities. The year that the show required would be filmed and happen before any segment of it was aired. The transformations are kept secret, and you only find out about them after they are done. There is nothing exempted from the possible choices from a change in culture to life as a handicapped person. Again, nothing is exempted from a possible choice.

I was asked if I had ever seen the show, but I sheepishly had to admit that I had no TV. I blushed red at the humiliation that I was so poor that I didn’t have what most Americans considered a necessity. She sensed my embarrassment, telling me that she knew my situation, that I was unemployed, that I was days from being evicted and that all the money I had was at home in my wallet. I broke down in tears, embarrassed, humiliated and aware of the fact that I couldn’t do anything about it. She came around to hug me, just holding me as I sobbed in her arms.

She started talking, “Unfortunately, your situation makes you perfect for the show. We are looking for individuals so desperate to grab at straws that they will do anything to survive. I know you have told yourself that you have given up, but the desire to survive is strong, eager to get ahead somehow in this unfair and cruel world.

Now for the good part, you, of course, will be paid for your efforts, very handsomely I might add. But to keep the situation real and not a farce you will not know what your reward will be until you finish the year. If you have an attorney to handle the contracts and the accounts necessary to deposit your payments you can use them, if not we can help you find one. They will be aware of all that you make in wages and keep an eye out for your benefit on all matters that affect you.

You can live where you are now if you wish, or we can get you accommodations elsewhere, that is your choice. Your clothes, food, rent, and any other necessities will be furnished, but you will have no spending money for yourself. If you need clothes for a date they will be provided, if there is a health issue, it will be handled, if you need to get more clothes for work, a trip to the mall will be provided, but it will only cover items that are deemed necessary for your situation. In such situations, someone will go with you to provide advice and support.

You will be expected to live the life that you are given, no questions, no hesitation, and no gripes. I can assure you that the monetary benefit will be substantial, a couple of the earlier subjects have retired on what the program paid for their involvement. If we tell you what to expect, your decisions and actions will change, causing unreal responses. That is not what we are after.

“There is one caveat in the deal, if after your transformation you decide not to approach the situation with full vigor and enthusiasm, there is a clause in your contract that allows us to abandon you at this point with no further involvement or communication. In most of our dealings, this has not happened, but one individual disappointed us, and this clause was invoked, with a counter suit from us for all the expenses and damages for breach of contract. He was quite vocal, thus the reason for the suit. Incidentally, he lost to the tune of five million dollars.”

I gulped at that figure but decided if I did this I would be most cooperative. She wanted me to take several days to think this over, giving me her cell phone so that I could ask questions if they arose. She did answer one that I had thought of without having to ask. “At the time of my transformation, I would have no more contact with her. The show wanted realism at all costs, real emotions, not something for just the camera. It would be scary, the transformations usually quite far fetched, and the situations inescapable. You had to live the new life to survive, and to survive you had to embrace the changes to your persona.”

I did make it back to my apartment, passing the landlord in the hall, she greeted me but nothing more. I kept my head down, too embarrassed to look at her. If I didn’t take this opportunity I would be soon homeless, the cruel life having won this latest round.

The next few days were hard, real hard. The clock was ticking with only a few days remaining before I was evicted. No last minute deals, job offers, or lottery wins to save the day. I was depressed, one choice remaining, but could I do it, more accurately would I do it. Two days after our last meeting I called her on the phone. I told her that I decided to take the deal and sign the contract. She asked if I had an attorney and when I told her no she gave me the name of one to go see.

The attorney she had told me about knew of the show and the contracts, and if I liked her and felt like I could trust her to help me, then okay. If not, I would be given the name of another attorney. I made the call and was given an appointment in an hour. I dressed as nice as I could and took the bus to the attorney’s office. I only had to wait a short time until I was shown into her office, she greeted me and had me sit down. I gave her the basic facts and she pulled out one of their contracts.

She went over every facet of it, explaining anything I did not understand. She asked me if I felt comfortable with her representing me, and I nodded my accent. She told me that we needed to come up with a fake name to use for the contract. There would be one copy with my real name on it, with a copy available to me and to the show. All other agreements would have my fake name on them to preserve my identity. The one with my real name essentially only a document stating that I entered into this agreement willingly and in the name specified.

It seemed like a lot of work to protect my identity, but maybe it would be worth it. I signed all the proper papers in the names that I was supposed to, and then I had to make a short video stating the same thing I had just signed. The show was very thorough, and I could see that the contract would be ironclad and impossible to break later. I was asked if I had any preferences in banks since I had none, so she used a local one that had plenty of branches.

One account for me to use to live on, my job earnings would go in there, and one for my show earnings, inaccessible until the year is up. I would not be able to see what that balance was until the contract was fulfilled. Any earnings I made from a job or investments did have a spending restriction imposed, only to be used for clothing and expenses appropriate to the persona I would be living in. It sounded scary, but also seemed to be the only choice that was available to me. Therefore, I signed the last document, and all were notarized and copied, and one copy of each was furnished to me.

She advised me that a company limo would pick me up at eight A.M. tomorrow morning and take me to the place where my transformation would occur. Then one year from now I would be brought back here to her office, where I will sign releases, view the videos if I desired, and receive access to my other account. She wished me luck and thanked me for the business. I made it back home, nothing to do but wait for the morning. I slept very little that night, not really worried, but nervous about my future. A future I knew nothing about.

I was fully aware that I had few choices left open to me, this being the best, provided what they had planned for me was palatable. I awoke at six, not really rested but unable to get back to sleep. I got dressed tidied up the apartment a little since I had told them I preferred to live here if possible. They would take care of my landlord and revamp the apartment to correspond to my transformation. I was getting curious as to what my transformation would be, but in all the documents and conversations, nothing was hinted at. It would truly be a surprise when I discovered what had been done.

The limo was on time, the driver knocking on my door exactly at eight A.M. I was escorted to the limo, and he held the door for me. I slipped inside, and we were off, the trip lasting about thirty minutes as we headed to a ritzier side of town. As we neared our destination, he lowered the glass and handed me a hood to put on. The show insisted that I have no idea of what my transformation might consist of until after the process was complete. I slipped the hood on, darkness enveloping my face and attached the band around my neck. Now I was even more nervous about what was to happen.

A while later I felt no more movement, figuring that we were now at our destination. The butterflies in my stomach ready to take flight. Second thoughts about all of this were making another appearance, but in reality, nothing has changed, this is and was my only option. The driver opened the door and helped me out. My knees were weak, and I had to have support to keep from falling. I was led through a door, the cool air flowing past me as we entered the building. I heard talking and a faint smell filtered through my hood, a smell that I did not recognize.

I heard another door open, and we apparently entered and then I heard the door close. There was no sound in the room, nobody talking, nothing but an eerie silence. I thought about taking off the hood but decided if they wanted it off they would tell me. I heard someone come in, and then they undid the band around my neck and removed the hood. The sudden influx of light was blinding, but slowly my eyes were able to focus again. Before me was a goddess of femininity, she asked me if I was alright, then told me to take off all my clothes.

If I had replied in the negative, I might have been able to keep my clothes on, but that option was now not available. I removed everything except my boxers; then she gave me a stern look, and I slipped then down my legs. I was told to sit in a chair on one wall and look directly into her eyes. She had set opposite me in another chair, and we talked for quite some time. The conversation started with the show, then about me; and then the last I heard was you are now getting sleepy, you can’t keep your eyes open, close your eyes and sleep.

This all happened before nine A.M. on Wednesday, the next time I had any recollection of being awake or coherent thoughts was Friday around lunch. Everything about my body felt different, but I was not aware of anything that had been done. I looked in a mirror but couldn’t tell you what I saw. I moved freely around the salon, watching what was happening, just strolling around to kill some time. A little while later a young female came up to me, telling me that it was time to go.

I let her lead me out of the salon, and into a waiting limo. The driver held the door for us, then assumed his position as the driver and off we went. I don’t remember the trip, I don’t remember where we ended up at, but as we entered the hall of the apartments, it somehow seemed familiar. The female that was with me opened the door to one of the apartments, and we walked in and led me to the couch, told me to make myself comfortable, and she would be right back. She went to the kitchen and returned shortly with two drinks.

She sat next to me, handed me a drink and asked if the apartment looked familiar. I looked around, it seemed like I had been here before, but I was unsure. I was told to take a sip of my drink; she had something to tell me. She looked directly into my eyes and spoke the words, Erin Waldrop. My eyes blinked, and suddenly I was wide awake. I looked next to me and saw Kimberley from the salon sitting next to me.

I looked down at my body, and my mouth froze in the open position. I was a female, how in the hell did that happen. I moved my hands up to my breasts, the most prominent thing in my eyesight and gently touched them. I felt the touch through a blouse and apparently a bra, then closed my eyes and reopened them to try gain. When I felt the second touch, I presumed they were real. All of a sudden my mind thought about my penis, I moved both hands down there as rapidly as I could but to no avail, through my pants I felt nothing but a slit, a female slit that means I am no longer a male.

That did it; my mind shut down and I fainted. Kimberley was gently shaking me to get me to respond, I looked up at her, looked at my breasts, then back at her, and then broke into tears. She held me as I sobbed and sobbed, the shoulder that I was leaning on was getting wet from my tears. The tears finally eased up; I guess because the shock had worn off a little, or I had gotten used to the sudden change. She helped me up and led me to the bathroom. Using some tissues with a cleanser to remove my smeared makeup. Then she applied a new coat of lipstick, and she dragged me to a full-length mirror on the closet door.

The image that met my eyes was unreal. I was a woman, a female, and quite attractive. How would I be able to cope with a body like this, I no longer had a penis, my friend for many years. When things would get worse, I could always play with my friend and get a little pleasure. Now that is gone, replaced with a slit that some damn male is probably going to want to stick something up in it. That thought made me shiver, how can they do something like this to me.

I know it is in the contract, but I never thought of something this severe being done to me. I was a down and out male, having nothing going right, but this is just not fair. A blasted female with looks that is going to attract way too much attention.

The image in the mirror did not change, it was not a nightmare, this was my life for at least a year. I walked around a little. It was indeed my apartment, but cleaned up, anything masculine gone and in its place a feminine décor. It wasn’t real girly, but no male would live in an apartment that looked like this. I set at the window for a while, trying to come to terms with this situation, but nothing other than going ahead with this charade entered my mind.

Kimberley asked if I was calmer now, as she cuddled me on the sofa. When I stated that I was, she told me to listen carefully; she had some information that I needed to know. She took my hand and started, “When the show had asked the salon to do the transformation, it was with the understanding that all parties had advanced warning of what was to happen and approve the changes. That is the way that the salon operates and the only way it will perform the services.”

She continued, “It became apparent when we hypnotized you that you were not aware of the changes dictated by the show. The show was contacted, and some changes were made to the script to allow the transformations to take place. When you were unconscious, a little detective work was performed to make sure that doing the changes would not adversely affect your mental health. To appease Francine, the owner of Turnabout Gurl, you will have one of us with you throughout your year as a female.

There will be no interference in the scenarios of the show, but just somebody to make sure you are handling it well mentally. We will be able to assist you in dealing with matters that you feel are still confusing to you, but the burden of doing them will still be yours. We will have cameras to record memorable moments, but we are not out to embarrass you. I know this is a huge shock, one minute a male and the next a female with all of the necessary appendages. I also think if you relax a little, this next year can be a fun and an educational adventure in womanhood.”

I didn’t know what to say, so Kim suggested that we adjourn to the nearest restaurant and get a bite to eat. I was a little hungry, not really sure when I last had anything to munch on. First, though I was given the hint that I might want to repair my makeup. My question to her was, “How do I do that, I don’t even know what makeup I am wearing, much less how to fix it?” She suggested that I go the bathroom, find a mirror, and then see what I had to work with.

That shock when I looked in the mirror closely at my face was a memorable moment, and true to her word Kim had recorded the moment for the show. She briefly went over what I had on in makeup and suggested what might be needed to be freshened up or repaired. The tears had ruined my mascara, so I had to clean it off, and then repair the damage. All of this as Kim was instructing me in what to do. It was twice with the mascara before I looked like anything other than a panda. I learned that a mascara brush and an eye do have a mutual hatred of each other, and I had antagonized the eye several times before I managed to control the mascara brush.

The lips needed a reapplication of color, a deep burgundy color I was told. The effect of putting on lipstick for the first time was a real eye opener. I do like the taste of it, just wished it was on a real female and not on this imitation of one. The task was easier than the mascara, and then Kim pronounced us ready to get some food. As I stepped out the door, I suddenly felt vulnerable, a feeling that I never had as a male. Even though I was wearing pants, the breasts and no masculine equipment between my legs left me feeling like I was less than before.

The sensation kind of drifted over my body, and suddenly I was watching with intent as who was around me. Seeing Kim helped some, but in heels and with a purse it just made me feel like I was helpless to do anything to protect myself. I wonder if all females feel this way when they are out. I wondered back to when I had a date, if they felt the same way, maybe a male to help protect them was an underlining reason in some of their interactions.

We walked a couple of blocks, with Kim pointing out some behavior that resulted from us being out. The attention of males was the hardest to get used to. It was like they could read who I was, but yet it was pointed out to me that their interest was because of my looks. They saw an attractive female and wanted to ogle her. Still, it is really hard to get accustomed to, being stared at, because of my boobs and figure.

When we reached our destination, the door was held open for me by a gentleman leaving the restaurant. I thanked him and was astounded by the higher pitch of my voice. When I looked at Kim she giggled, “Yes, your voice is now that of a normal female.” We were seated in a booth right by the front window, and every guy that passed by was taking in the sights. Kim was quite attractive too, but when I looked up, their attention seemed to be on me, not her. I was told that it required getting used to, but eventually, that attention would become natural and just an everyday event. I’m not sure if I would ever get used to it.

The meal was eaten in silence; I was still trying to figure out all that had happened to me. I did ask Kim if she knew what I now did for a living. She smiled, “Just remain calm until I am through with the explanation before saying anything.” I swallowed hard and thought to myself that this new job must be a real doozy to go to this level of transformation. Calmly she explained that my new job was as an exotic dancer. I was calm right up to the point that started to sink into my brain; then I fainted.

Kim was holding a wet napkin to my face, with several other people looking over her shoulder to see if I was alright. She paid the bill, then helped me back to my apartment. During our walk, I was silent, more from fear of the unknown than the fact that I would have a job as an exotic dancer. Safely inside the apartment, she explained more. “The show is built on the shock factor, everything I have to experience is designed to shock the mind; causing responses that make a memorable reality TV show. The way to beat it is to take everything in stride. They want to shock you, a former male making his living as an exotic dancer.”

Kim continued trying to allay my fears, “Learn to be the best dancer out there, putting 120% effort into the task and you go to the next stage, although you are now richer, both financially and personally. Learn from your predicament; taking a little of everything you learn to add to your personality and you’ll be a better person because of it. When you were down and out, did you learn anything from it? I bet you did. If nothing else, never to allow yourself to get to that point again! Am I right?” I just nodded my head.

“Now you have the chance to further your education, although learning to be an exotic dancer maybe not the most educating course of study. Never the less, things can be learned, then figure out how to take advantage of this knowledge. Females from a young age learn how to interact with males, how to manipulate them into doing what the female desires. With most women, over the years of marriage, a relationship is built on the male supporting the female and his family, her having the kids, raising them and nowadays, helping in the financial aspects of keeping the family secure. There are exceptions, of course, such as females that don’t learn the controlling ways, or females that take it to a whole another level of play.

This is your life for the next year. An attractive female that has one of the sexiest jobs that a female can have. Your classes in becoming a dancer start tomorrow, three weeks’ worth culminating in your stage debut. They have you booked in one of the most prestigious strip clubs in the state, providing you are successful, you will spend the entire year working there. The lady teaching you how to dance is one of the best; she had seen you before we woke you up, and thinks you can be a headliner in no time.” That was a shock to learn that I’d be a headlining exotic dancer! My mind was racing a hundred miles an hour, but not going anywhere.

“What else should I do”, I asked? Kim looked at me, smiled and said, “I suggest that you take a few of our training classes to learn the art of emulating a female. Francine will make these available to you at no cost, and these are one on one classes, so they can be scheduled whenever you have some free time.” She also suggested that I remove all of my clothes since you are going to be an exotic dancer you need to familiarize yourself with your body and get used to it being on display. With that being said, I removed all of my clothes but my panties and walked over to the full-length mirror on the closet door.

I scanned my body from head to toe, with Kim filling me in on what had been done to me, transforming me from a male to a gorgeous female. My breasts were the first thing my eyes went to, Kim telling me that they were a DD cup size, a prime requirement for an exotic dancer. Without the bra, I soon felt their weight as I moved about. Kim suggested some exercises that would help strengthen my chest muscles, thus helping with the discomfort of them being not supported.

I was told in this state; a G-string is required, and a form of nipple cover is required. The cover can be makeup or pasties; either one meets the state requirements. She started the stereo, then suggested that I move around a little, dance if I felt like it. I swayed to the music and undulated my hips back and forth. I brought my hands to my breasts cupping them and played with my nipples. I had only been to one strip club in my life and the dancer I remember moved in this way. Kim smiled, telling me that I was a natural, all I needed was more practice. Then the fact that I was rubbing my nipples hit my brain, and I could feel my hands manipulate the nipple. I stared at Kim and asked if they are real, she giggled “They are very realistic, but not the real McCoy, just a very good imitation.”

I had slipped my heels off when she asked me to strip, so Kim brought them over so that I could slip them on again. That seemed to make my movements more erotic, and I was soon lost in my thoughts and dancing. I noticed that I now moved about on my toes, not flat footed, in fact, if I lowered my heel to the floor a pain shot up my calf. Dancing on my toes though was comfortable, not causing me any trouble at all. The heels stopped that pain, keeping my feet highly arched, with only my toes actually close to the floor.

Eventually, I succumbed to the extra exertion and stopped. I never did any kind of exercise or physical activity, maybe lifting a glass at the bar, but that was the extent of it. We settled on the couch with me trying to catch my breath. It had felt good, though, and for once in my life I had a happy moment. The conversation moved on to the rest of the changes that had been made to my body, requiring me always to wear heels, the extensions added to my hair and the numerous piercings that I now had over my body.

Then we discussed my new vagina, surprisingly I barely noticed that I no longer had a penis, I looked at where it had been, and stared at my new slit. All of my hair down there had been removed, leaving the slit smooth and quite obvious. A tear rolled down my cheek, what had been done to me was way too much to handle. I began to wonder why I hadn’t noticed something as obvious as no penis, but Kim was to the rescue again. She told me that a block had been added until I came to the realization myself, Francine’s handiwork again. She would not be a part of ruining someone’s life just for some TV stunt.

Kim asked me if she was needed tomorrow, I thought about it for a minute but decided I could handle what may come up and declined. She handed me my cell phone and showed me her number in the memory. Francine’s number was also there if something more urgent or disastrous happened. “Maybe you and I can have dinner tomorrow tonight, two female friends out for an evening of gossip”, Kim asked.

As she left, I received a big hug, then a cheek kiss. “Erin, you will make it through this, a much stronger and happier person to boot. I will check up on you all through the week, and if you feel lost or need help call me. I laid your clothes on the bed for tomorrow, also the directions to the appointment. You are to be there around eight in the morning, and will be finished about three in the afternoon. The studio is two blocks away, so you should have no problem getting there.”

I sat in the rocker near the window, staring out at the images before me. I was looking, but nothing was registering in my mind, two of the biggest reasons situated on my chest a few inches below my head. I was a well-built female, with a rack, a plump ass, and a pussy changing everything in my life. If I had been a cross-dresser, maybe even an effeminate male I might have been able to handle the change a little easier. Instead, I was a stereotypical male, loved sports, loved drinking, and loved to get myself in and out of impossible situations; now I was moving from almost homeless to a gorgeous stripper. What a change this world left me with.

I ended up falling asleep in the rocker, only the need to use the bathroom keeping me from missing my exotic dance instruction. I did remember what Kim had said about making the best of the situation that I was in; learn from it and then use that knowledge to get ahead. Using the bathroom as a female would require some getting used to, the wiping the hardest to get accustomed to. I moved my hand down there as I used to, but left it hovering there. What I used to do with regards to my penis is no longer possible. It left me at a disadvantage, but any excuse to touch my slit sent tingles through my body. Then I had to wipe, as they had instructed me at the salon. After Kim woke me up from the hypnosis I remembered a lot of things that they had told me at the salon, but to actually use those things we would have to see.

The body is certainly sensitive, my mind assaulted from the sensations from all parts of my body. Even air movement seemed to stimulate parts of my body. Then a sobering thought crossed my mind, what would me dancing in front of males do for my sensations? I shuddered and tried to forget that thought.

I have to ask Kim more about my transformation; she had explained partly what they had done, but to be truthful, I couldn’t see where they had managed to hide my male organ. I wasn’t used to the pussy enough to put anything in it; even that thought made me cringe a little. I was aware that attractive women stimulated male desire, and male desire often leads to them wanting to spear something with their tool.

I dressed in the outfit Kim left me and then checked my appearance. I added some mascara and lipstick, the only things I felt comfortable enough to use. I walked the two blocks to the studio where I would be taught to be a dancer. The hardest part to accept is the stares of any male as I walked by. I even received a couple of whistles. I smiled a little when they were given, but kept to my goal, to get to the studio as fast as I can and off the street. The feeling of being vulnerable was certainly present.

I knocked on the door, and a cute female welcomed me to her studio. Her name is Rusty, and she will be my teacher. We went up the stairs to a private studio, filled with light from all of the windows, but also curtained with thick lacy sheers. I was told to undress and then she started doing the same. She approached me with a G-string helping me get it up my hips and nestled between my ass cheeks. Then two pasties were added to my nipples with some adhesive. She was already decked out in the pasties and G-string, her figure quite striking. She pulled me over to a love seat, asking me to sit. Rusty started explaining, “All of your lessons will be done in pasties and G-string, a requirement for you to get comfortable with your new occupation. The first few lessons will be all about the movements that a stripper uses to make her body sensual and sexual to her audience. Then later we will put all of that to some music.”

I never worked so hard in my life. At times I was sweating, the way she had me twist my body and the gyrations that I had to perform, I doubted whether I would be able to walk home tonight. After seven hours we sat down again on the sofa, with her handing me a bottle of water. We had taken breaks during the day as needed, but my lesson is now over. She thought I did pretty well for my first lesson, my main problem is that I am so stiff. She drank some of her water then got down on the floor and showed me some exercises to loosen up my body.

“Try to do these for an hour or two every night and an hour in the morning before you come in for your lesson. It will take about a week, but you will feel so much better, your dancing will definitely show improvement if you loosen up.” I dressed again in the clothes I wore here, they now felt superfluous since I had been nearly naked for hours. As I got up to leave, she hugged me tightly kissing me on the cheek then escorted me to her door. I was turned around so that I was facing her. “I know this scares you, but if you give it your best effort you will come out on top, a happy young female looking forward to her life.” I just smiled at her and left.

I walked home, a lot slower than when I made the trip earlier. I thought about what she said, about what they had apparently planned for me, resolving to do my best no matter what is thrown at me. I didn’t trust them to just be content with my change to a female gender, I am sure there will be more surprises along the way, totally unexpected changes. With that thought still in my mind, I climbed the steps to my apartment and let myself in. I went to the bedroom, getting out of my leotard and tights. I relaxed in a warm shower, then toweled dry, all the time staring at the image in the mirror. With a few learned movements it would not be hard to see myself as an exotic dancer.

I was snapped out of my self-appraisal as the doorbell rang. I threw on a robe and made my way to the door, stopping in the hall to make sure I looked okay. Imagine, checking to make sure I looked pretty, before I let anyone see me. That is a frightening thought. It has only been a few days and already the female is showing herself in my behavior. In fact, where did I even learn to do that, it has not been taught to me. I opened the door, and slid into her arms trying to hug her and not let go. She had her arms around me too, but I had the advantage. “Seems that you are glad to see me, I wonder how your day went. Since you had your first dance lesson, can you give me a sneak preview of your routine after we have dinner tonight?” Kim is giggling, trying hard to not break into outright laughter.

I pouted, “No if you want to see me dance you have to pay the cover charge. No free dances for you.” I try to decline the dinner invite, but she will have nothing to do with it. I am dragged to my room, the robe is removed and she starts laying clothes on the bed for me to put on. I was spared a dress, after the bra and pantie a snug pair of jeans and a hoodie are my choices, I slip them on, she hands me my purse and I am literally dragged from my apartment.

The heels are lower than I have been wearing, while I try to get used to them, but still not that comfortable. She drove her car so I am spared another walk. We parked by a diner, several miles from my apartment and go in. We take a booth up front, the diner this time of day not very busy. We order, a couple of chicken sandwiches, didn’t sound very appetizing when I ordered it, but the first bite convinced me otherwise. Kim dragged out all the details of my day, just talking about the happenings made me feel better.

After finishing our meal she drove us to the mall, and we leisurely walked it, window shopping and chatting like girlfriends. It felt good to talk things over, a lot of my dread disappearing with the conversation. I never interacted with friends before, oh I would go to a bar with some fellow male employees, but you could hardly call them friends. Kim is a friend, so we talked and talked, every once in a while looking at the store windows. She even convinced me to try on a dress that I had admired more than once as we walked by.

It was a pleasant evening, once I got back to the apartment I relaxed and savored the details. Kim had dropped me off emphasizing calling her if I got panicky, otherwise learn all you can. I got undressed and into bed, the sheets feeling so soft and silky. Then I remembered my makeup and had to get back up, plodding to the bathroom to get it removed and my face moisturized. A fact of life for the foreseeable future. No dreams that night, I do remember getting up once and standing in front of the toilet, expecting the liquid to just mysteriously find its way into the bowl. When it dawned on me my current circumstances, I set down quick, my blush quite red, even though there is no one to see it.

My alarm is way too loud, my head rising too quick from the pillow giving me a mild case of whiplash. On to the bathroom, some things demanding to be taken care of. I did start to feel better, my awareness surfacing some and my body relaxing from the abrupt start of the day. Once that was subdued and I managed a few bites of fruit from the kitchen. I spent the next forty minutes stretching and limbering up, in preparation for my dance class. After getting my breath back, I did feel better and the walk to the class is quick and comfortable. I am so obviously out of shape, it might take longer than anybody figured for me to be ready for the dance floor.

Rusty was glad to see me, giving me the once over as I undressed to my G-string. She made me put on my own pasties, then had me do all the things I went through yesterday. Half way through she stopped me, handing me a bottle of water. “I must compliment you, you are doing so much better today, I can see you are doing your exercises. I am sure you can be ready before your scheduled deadline, I have no doubt you will be a star before long.” I shook my head at her implications, I will be lucky to be still breathing when the deadline gets here.

There was a delivery when I got home. It was a box of videos, of famous strippers including some of the best from Europe. Rusty had mentioned them, wanting me to watch and see the differences that each made in their own distinct way, although the basic dance is the same all over. Kim called that night instead of coming over, the videos would have to be my distraction that evening. I watched until ten then did my exercises till eleven. Yes, I now had a TV to play the videos on, courtesy of the apartment renovation. This time I did remember to remove my makeup before I got in bed, for some reason the moisturizer felt good tonight, like it is essential element for my face.

The next morning a repeat of yesterday, I did catch myself almost skipping to the dance lesson though. Rusty taught me a lot of different things that day, even the first part of a routine. It seemed easier now, even when she corrected me, I picked it right up, she not having to remind me again of the mistake. Saturday she wanted me to go with her to see a local stripper perform and maybe talk with her afterwards, if I felt the inclination. I agreed to meet her at the club at eight, the first strip show not until ten that night.

Kim came by, this time bringing some Chinese takeout to nibble on. She wanted a progress report, also what I was doing with my evenings. I leveled with her that the evenings were the worse, my mind wandering to my situation and all the possible scenarios that might develop from it. She decided that I need the classes they offered at the salon, staring tomorrow night, she understood about Saturday, but wanted me there all the rest of the time. Sundays would be our night to dine out, and catch up on the week.

I agreed not even knowing what the classes taught, just to be not alone the important thing to me. Kim said she would sign me up, all I had to do was show up at six each night. The classes would vary, but each would help me portray the female in my destiny more accurately.

My dance classes went well, the stretching and limbering up improving my performance significantly. Rusty had managed to teach me the whole routine, what would be my first exotic dance in the club. I was still a little unsure of some of the moves, but in the first run through without her help, I had only made two mistakes. Mistakes I immediately knew that I had made, but had not managed to convince my body to perform correctly.

The first class at the salon that evening was makeup. I was thankful for the limo ride that Francine had arranged for me any night I was to be at the salon. For three hours we were taught the things we should do to make ourselves more attractive. We would be shown how to do it, an individual part of the total makeup like the lips, then had to remove it and do it ourselves without help. By the end of the class I was applying my makeup like I had been doing it for years. My instructor knew of my job, all of her techniques and procedures were for the heavier stage makeup I would wear when performing. Then the limo ride back to the apartment. Since the salon was on the other side of town, it would have been one hell of a bus ride.

The next day at Rusty’s studio was surreal, she took one look at me and I was almost knocked off my feet. After escaping her death hug, she examined me closer, looking at my face in detail. She immediately wanted to know where I learned to do my makeup or who did it for me this morning. When I told her I did it myself, she squealed in excitement. I had to go through the previous evening in detail telling her all about learning to do my own makeup. Instead of dancing that day, she told me to clean my makeup off and do it again in front of her. I smiled, she had listened to my explanation, but still doubted my story some.

After cleaning my face off I started the process, using the makeup I had in my bag from last night’s class. Rusty watched me perform each step, and squealed again at my completion of the task. Her next request surprised me, as she wanted me to undress and put on my pasties. She worked on my hair a little putting some of it up on top of my head, with a few curled tendrils around my ears. She had me change my earrings to some dangle earrings, their length and brilliance catching any beam of light.

I stepped into my heels, and observed myself in the mirror. It was a short observation as the music started and she had me go through the whole routine. Half way through I noticed she was taping the dance, I caught myself before I made a mistake, but the fact that she was taping it surprised me quite a bit. After completing the routine she had me set next to her at her desk and played the tape of my routine on her laptop. I was amazed, I was actually good at it, a fact that I never thought would happen.

She brought up a message box, typed into it and then hit send. We talked about how I had done, if I was nervous, and if I had trouble remembering the routine. Our conversation was cut short as her computer beeped. She hit a couple of keys and the incoming message appeared on the screen. ‘If this is the new dancer I need to work her into the schedule, she is amazing. Make sure she is prepared to dance this Saturday, I can’t wait to meet her and see her perform.’

I took in an extra-large breath, my time in the shadows is apparently over, now for the stage and the audience. Rusty smiled, “You have made it to the stage. I am so proud of you. Considering the way that you were coerced into this, I see you turning the tables on all of them. They think you will be humiliated and shamed, but instead you will be the next big name in strippers.” I gave her a funny look. “Me a stripper that is famous, you have got to be kidding.”

Rusty sat me down at her small café table. “Yes, you. Before I retired from actively dancing I was making ten thousand a week, all of my expenses were paid, my costumes, everything was handled by the clubs I stripped for. That was four years ago, headliners make more than that now. You are just as good as I was, your looks are much more balanced and your breasts are fantastic. The only thing you are lacking is a little more confidence. In the next couple of days, we will see that you get that and more.”

Rusty got up, “Now let’s find a costume for tomorrow, and get you through the routine once. Then tomorrow evening you will be on stage on your way to the top. It is a local club, intimate, and a good place to break in your new act. I have connections to several clubs in the area, and between tomorrow and Saturday you can dance in each of them.”

My heart was pounding. I gave her a stern look, I couldn’t see that I was ready, my nerves were strung tighter than a guitar string, my stomach is doing somersaults, and I feel like bursting into tears right now. But surprisingly the fact that I was male under this exterior facade never entered my mind. I saw myself as a female now, one that was working hard to become an exotic dancer. Think back a few months or all the way back to when I graduated college. I never dreamed of dressing as a female, much less getting a job as one. Now one of the most feminine jobs a female can get, is apparently mine, I just had to get on stage and take off all of my clothes and make every man there want to seduce me. Sure no problem, definitely no pressure, right?

I practiced the rest of the afternoon, then I dressed in a dress that Rusty lent me and we went to one of the clubs she had connections with. We watched the three entertainers they had, each doing their routine flawlessly. Then when the MC announced amateur night I quickly looked at Rusty. Yep she had that Cheshire cat smile, plastered from ear to ear. She reached over and raised my hand for me, my hand shaking so hard I must have appeared as if I was waving to someone. The MC called three of us on to the stage, found out our names and then we were led backstage to get our pasties and G-strings.

In the dressing room I quickly changed into the required attire, one of the other ladies also changing quickly. The third lady was bewildered, apparently she had never done anything like this before, her girlfriends putting her up to this. Her name was Bunny, and asked about us. Cheryl was the other lady, she was trying to break in to the business, had danced at several strip clubs already, but had not landed a job yet. I told them I was learning to strip and my teacher suckered me into dancing tonight.

Cheryl danced first she was pretty good, and the audience was appreciative. Bunny was next, she tried her best but made quite a few mistakes. She did get into it a little at the end, her friends taking lots of pictures and applauding her. I could see she had some fun with it. I was next, my music started and I made my way to the stage.

I tried to act coyly, like what do I do know. I turned to the curtain several times to see if I could escape somehow but continued to slowly remove my clothes, I was a bright red in the face, the crowd seemed to be getting involved with what I was doing. All they saw was an extremely bashful girl on stage having to remove her clothes. It was the same routine that Rusty had taught me with a bashful girl added to it.

I haven’t the slightest idea what I decided to do the routine this way, a quick glance at Rusty saw her smiling so I presumed this was alright. When it got down to removing my bra and panties, I looked at the audience several times in quick succession hoping they would vanish. The crowd was roaring now, making all kinds of suggestions as to what to take off next. I removed the last items trying to hold my hands to cover my breasts and pussy. When the music stopped I quickly gathered my clothes and scrambled for the side of the stage. I had purposefully dropped my bra.

After getting backstage I peeked around the corner of the curtain and then made a dash for it having to grab at it twice to get a hold of it. Well that got everybody clapping and whooping it up.

I won the competition that night and got surprised again as the MC asked me to do another number for the audience. Rusty had taught me two numbers, so I did the second number. They had given me a school marm outfit to wear, and one of their regular dancers put my hair in a bun for the number. This time I acted professional, not bashful. I was looking at specific members of the audience seducing them with my eyes, and punctuating each bump and grind to the max. I watched as several heads reacted to each action of my hips, I gained more confidence as I watched the crowd, every eye locked to each of my movements.

I decided this was fun. Rusty let me get dressed again and then we left the club. I noticed while I was doing the second number she had a guest at her table. An older gentleman, quite well dressed and very handsome. Once we got back to her car she wanted to know where that first routine came from. I apologized, it was just something I thought up after I went up to the stage. I told her I am sorry for messing up the first routine, she leaned forward and put her finger to my lips. “Now be quiet and listen to me. You have already made the big time, the gentleman I was talking to owns this club and the one you will premiere at in a few days. He loves your act that first number sold him on you. He will work with their entertainment manager to schedule some time for you next week, then the following week you will start to headline at the club. That is no little feat, Erin you should be so proud.”

“Now for the bad news you have to have a least three numbers that you can perform every night. He wants the bashful girl routine, with you wearing a wig so that it can be kept separate from your other act. So back to the studio and lots of work before next week. He will come to my studio to bring a contract for you to sign, this is not part of the show premise at all. Maybe the first of the week, he has some other matters to work out before he can have you sign the contract.” My mind was reeling again and trying to digest what Rusty had just told me.

She dropped me back home and I changed into a nightie, did my nightly skin regiment and was soon asleep tucked under my covers. Next day I was learning two new routines, Rusty was working me hard, several times I had to use a wet towel to cool off some. I was almost used to being naked, it is funny in a way to have to put on some clothes so I could go home. Then the next day dress to return here, then undress, apply the pasties and the G-string and start working on my routines.

Talking about someone who is a slave driver, Rusty would win all competitions hands down. From the moment I entered the studio until I left at night she had me moving to the music, shaking my booty and breasts but not necessarily in that order. We practiced, then practiced some more. I had three of the routines down fairly well, still trying to learn the fourth one well enough to be able to perform it. While I was going through the routines she was gathering up my costumes. She added some changes to the very bashful girl one, more layers of clothes so that I would be continually removing something. It turns out she had all her old costumes, so she went through them taking a piece from one costume and adding it to another.

In the end I was dressed like a Las Vegas showgirl even one of the plume headdresses for one number. Her gentleman friend came by one day, set at the back of the studio and watched me go through my numbers. He was friendly, very observant and apparently a good close friend of Rusty. I expected to see some contracts but he just watched then gave Rusty a romantic kiss and left. I asked about why he came, she just shrugged it off. He wanted to see my progress, and talk to her for a while. He did talk to her for about thirty minutes, I was dancing so I didn’t hear any of the conversation.

In the evenings I wondered if the reality show was getting good clips to use. I was dancing as an exotic dancer, but my presentation was female all the time now, even at my apartment. I couldn’t see anything that would embarrass me or make for humiliating TV. That is humiliating for me.

Kim from the salon was still keeping tabs on me, we would eat out once a week usually Sunday, her usual day off from the salon. I had a weekly appointment to keep my presentation female, I now adored the pampering that I experienced every week. Rusty had told me as soon as I started dancing professionally I would get two appointments every week to make sure I was appropriately beautiful for the club. The club had a stylist on duty for before each number, to keep makeup and the hair style fresh and primped. Two days later I had mastered the fourth routine and Rusty had gathered all of my costumes. Her gentleman friend had not been by but that once and I had seen no contracts. Maybe he changed his mind.

I was wrapping up the day’s activities, had just went through each routine and was getting ready to dress to go home. Rusty told me to step into her shower and rinse off, then put my G-string and pasties back on. I suspected a rat, but I went along, she is more than a teacher to me. Kim and she are the only two that have stayed by me, watched over me and helped out when needed. I did as requested then re-entered the studio. There was a dress there, like what I would wear when I did my bashful girl routine.

The light came on upstairs I would be dancing again tonight, probably at one of his clubs. I slipped on the dress and then with garment bags over our shoulders we made our way out to her car. The drive was different this time, apparently we were not going to the first club I danced at. As she pulled into the parking lot, my mouth was wide open. The club was huge, the parking lot almost full already and it was early. We made our way to a side door and entered. Rusty was greeted by the bouncer, as she gave him a hug, then I was introduced and I received the same intense hug.

We went to a dressing room, hung up my costumes and then she had me strip off my makeup and put fresh on. I looked at her several times, a smile is all I received from her. I could hear the music out front, the first act was starting. Then some applause and a few minutes later some more music. I figured it was going to be another amateur night, so I touched up my nails to keep busy. Then their stylist came in, fussed over my hair and applied another coat of gloss to my lips.

Since I was already in my bashful girl costume, a camisole was added and a half slip plus garter belt and stockings. Lots of layers to be stripped off, keeping the customers occupied. The stage manager came back to tell me that I had ten minutes to show time. I stared a hole in Rusty, she just smiled. “Tonight my dear Erin you headline, break a leg.”

The stage manager led me to the side of the stage and I heard the M.C. introduce me. Now let’s welcome Priscilla, she is very shy so we will have to encourage her a little.” I peeked around the curtains as my music started and stepped on to the stage to thunderous applause. I ran back behind the curtain but was coaxed out by the stage manager. It was like this the whole routine, the crowd was really into it.

For the first time I was aware of what my dancing meant to the crowd. I felt stared at, like every set of male eyes was fixed on me, my breasts in particular. No matter where I looked I saw appreciative looks, wanting me for their very own. I felt good that I was appreciated, but also nervous for the obvious lustful looks. I did notice when I was dancing and going through the routine my nipples were hard most of the time, this obviously is a turn on for me also.

The number finished after I had sprinted out two or three times to get the remnants of my clothing. The M.C. announcing that they had a new star tonight, a gorgeous dancer that really knows how to gyrate those boobies. I was changing at the side of the stage, their stylist helping me. I asked her to leave the wig on, I wanted to go out that way then strip off the wig like I had forgot to take it off before entering the stage. She slipped off the wig brushed my hair loose then carefully slipped it back under the wig. When I removed the wig my hair would fall around my shoulders. I took a couple of deep breaths and then as the music started I strolled out on stage. I got the desired reaction, some laughing some surprise and some giggling. This number was heavy on the bump and grind, so once into the chorus I reached up discovered my wig jerked it off and let it fly off stage. The audience loved it, and from there on I had nothing but lust coming from the male customers.

I never did see Rusty in the crowd, I hoped I was doing her training justice. Like I had been taught I wandered the front tables, dragging an arm over a male’s head, or squeezing his muscles and then kissing him on the cheek. My clothes were strung everywhere, wherever they fell they stayed there until after the number. I did catch the face of a female in the audience, not an unusual occurrence, but still rare. I had to look twice it looked just like Bethany, the one that interviewed me for this mess to start with. I had a couple of males trying to dance with me, so I had to focus my attention on them. I lost track of her after that.

Two more numbers that night, a little rest in between each number. I kind of felt abandoned, Rusty not to be seen anywhere. The numbers went well, the crowd seemed very appreciative. Judging by my stuffed G-string after every dance, I apparently was a success at my new occupation. In fact, after every number the MC and stage manager walked the stage to pick up my tips that were not contained by my G-string. There was a glass container backstage for every dancer, mine at the end of the night overflowing with money.

The stage manager came up to me, suggested that I put on some clothes, there was a private table for me with several people in attendance waiting to see me. I did the necessities and made my way out to the club floor. One of the waitresses showed me to a table near the back of the club. As I approached I saw Rusty, her manager friend and Bethany, along with several other people I didn’t know.

I walked up to the table, Walter, her manager friend offering me a seat between him and Rusty. I sat down and I was introduced to the other people in the party. Bethany started the conversation. “Well Erin you have amazed everyone here tonight. What we thought would be a good twist to the reality show concept you have blown out of the water. There is no market in TV for someone who has beaten all the odds and come out on top. If you will sign here I have a check for you to end the relationship between you and the show.”

I signed the contract withdrawal, and one of their business associates notarized it. The three suits then got up and left the table. Bethany came over and hugged me tightly. “It could not happen to anyone more deserving than you, here is my number, please stay in touch.” I gave her a cheek kiss and whispered in her ear thanks for all you have done for me. I know I had a couple of tears in my eyes when she walked out. Rusty got up to take my hands, a brief hug and then back to my chair.

“Erin, you have exceeded all my expectations, you were awesome tonight. I have here a contract for a year to be the headliner at my clubs. It automatically renews unless you want out of it. All of your beauty services and clothes will be paid by the clubs, in exchange we would like you to dance five nights a week for us. You keep all your tips and a salary of fifteen thousand a week tax free. That means I will pay any and all taxes on the income. To make sure you know how well you did, give a guess on how much in tips you made tonight? As a comparison Rusty used to get a thousand maybe two on a packed night.”

I had no idea, there was a lot of bills there, but I never looked at them other than the fact they filled the glass jar. “A thousand maybe, I know they got a little forward with the way they were inserting them in my G-string.”

“Here is your tips for tonight, thirty-five hundred dollars. Now sign the contract so I can go count my money, I am sure I will be pleased. The boss’s job, somebody has to do it.” I signed the contract, a dream come true, not the dream I had ever visualized, but one that I certainly could live with. He went to the office, leaving me with Rusty.

“Well Erin what do you think? Do you think all the hard work was worth it? I am pleased it ended this way, you are so deserving. Now I would like to be your agent, a simple yes or no will be fine.”

“Yes, I want you in my life. You and the girls from the salon have been so good to me, helping me through this, the only things keeping me going.” Rusty explained that I would be allowed to dance on my nights off, she would arrange a couple of dates a month. Nothing regular but a way to earn a little extra money for later. An exotic dancer’s career is short, five maybe seven years then that is it. Some dance longer, but it is better to stop while at the top of your career. Then we have your calendars that includes your posters, the more popular you become the more demand for your pictures, a nice pin-up calendar will make you a bundle of money. The clubs you work at will sell your photos and calendars, even your once used pasties will be in demand.

I did dance for six years, before I had decided to do something else with my life. Rusty and I pooled our assets and bought five clubs ourselves, now besides running the clubs we teach new dancers so that we have lots of new talent for our clubs. We also partnered up in life, buying a nice house just outside the city. We each have our own love interests, but can fall back on the love and caring of our partner when things don’t go as planned. Kim is still very much in my life as our all the ladies at the salon. The three of us often paint the town, believe me it is never the same after we get through with it.

Then there is the times I just think back, remembering my dancing, my friends, and the place I came from. I vowed never to forget where I was when fate came to visit. I closed my eyes and thought of how lucky I had been. Miserable and hopeless as a male to a well-endowed female with a life filled with hope and friends. Quite a change for a down on my luck male, now nothing seems to be out of my reach. Happy you bet, now to find someone so that I can pass on my good fortune, help them as others have helped me.

© 2016 thru 2024 by Francesca