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The contest was for an all-expenses paid trip for two in New York.
 
Did life offer a better prize?

by StacyInLove

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Bob won a two-week all-expense paid trip to New York for two. He wasn't dating anyone at the time and picked me to tag along. We were roommates and best friends since grade school.

"What do you mean you don't have a room with two doubles?" he hounded the man behind the desk.

"I'm sorry, but there are two conventions in the area this week. All we have is a king."

"Do you have cots?" I said at Bob's shoulder.

"Why yes... we do."

"Sign us up," I said, anxious to throw our things down and relax for a minute.

Bob nodded and we soon each had a key to a luxurious mid-town hotel near Central Park.

After getting our stuff to the room, we headed out with a map from the concierge. We weren't interested in Broadway or fine dining. Museums and culture weren't our speed either. A Village Voice showed the clubs and music that were more our speed.

"Let's grab a bite Brian," he said near the corner of First Avenue and the Bowery. "Are you up for Chinese?"

We went into a small place where the waitresses were all knockouts in very revealing outfits. The tables were full. We had to wait.

"I'm moving to New York," Bob said practically drooling on himself.

"I think I heard about this place," I said looking around at the women in tight mini dresses and high heels. "I think the girls here are guys," I whispered.

"No way Brian!" he said dismissively. "They're too HOT."

"That's the point. I don't thing real girls would be dressed like this."

"You think?" he said doubting his own eyes.

"It's sure hard to tell though," I agreed.

"Well if they're girls... then I'm gay. Shit... they're ALL so freakin' sexy."

"Maybe I'm wrong," I admitted.

They really did look too good looking. But all doubts vanished when the "hostess" walked up to me in her high stilettos. She seemed to think I was someone else instead of a customer to be seated.

"I told you Stacy," she said to me. "If you want the job, you have to interview in dress."

"Excuse me?" I said flustered by the mistake.

"You're not Stacy?" she said looking me over head to toe. "I'm so sorry."

"Its OK," I said sheepishly while Bob tried not to laugh.

"Pity though," she added. "I'll bet you'd be as beautiful as any of the girls hear... even more so."

I was too stunned to reply. She stared at me for a moment before reaching behind her hostess station to fish out a card.

"Candy does amazing makeovers if you change your mind Sweetie. We're a little short right now and the pay is really good."

"How good?" Bob finally chimed in, which made our hostess notice him for the first time.

"Boyfriend?" she asked angling her sexy head in his direction.

"Just a friend," I said turning red while she looked Bob up and down.

"Too bad... He's a real hottie," she said smiling at him.

She looked at Bob and told him the going salary (and VERY generous tips), which was about five times the pay at our loser's jobs.

"Would you like to be seated?" she said without missing a beat.

"Thanks anyway," I said before Bob could answer for us.

The hostess only laughed as I led Bob out by the arm.

"That is something you'd NEVER see in our little corner of the world bro," he said in wide eyed amazement. "Ho-ly shit Brian!"

"That was weird," I agreed.

"And they thought you could look like one of them!" he laughed.

"No I couldn't!" I said a little too vehemently.

"Whoa! Don't get your panties in a knot Brian... I'm just saying..."

"What are you just saying?" I said glaring at him.

I didn't like the way he was looking at me... as if appraising me like that hostess had.

"You know... you are a skinny little guy," he teased. "She might be right."

"Shut up Bob."

"OK," he said with a last chuckle. "I'm sorry. It's just not every day that a guy's handed ammo like that to razz a friend."

Though people litter in the city all the time, I wasn't raised that way. Though crumpled... the card with Candy's phone number went in my pocket. We grabbed a bite somewhere else and saw an alternative band in the East Village.

By the time we rolled into the hotel, we were too tired to bother calling down to complain about the cot, which hadn't arrived. We crashed on top of the huge king sized bed. Not being under the covers together seemed to make things less weird.

I transferred the contents of my pockets to a fresh pair of jeans the next morning. I had been trying to hurry Bob along to grab some breakfast... maybe a New York bagel or something... as I went through my junk.

"Let's go," I pleaded for the twentieth time.

"Where?"

"Anywhere but here," I said coming across Candy's phone number in the junk >from my pocket.

He looked over my shoulder and recognized it.

"Aren't you a little curious Brian?"

"About what?"

"About seeing if she was right."

"No."

There was an awkward pause before he said, "Well I kinda am."

"Fine," I said. "Here's the card. Knock yourself out."

"She didn't say that I'd look good."

"What's up with you Bob? It's like you WANT me to dress up or something."

"I don't know. I think it might be a gas... like a one-man Halloween party. It'd be funny."

"Not to me."

"You used to wait tables Brian."

"You're outta your freakin' mind. You know that?"

"That money sounded good."

"I'm on vacation Bob. Shit. Are you going gay on me? Those girls were guys!"

"No. I... Damn they were hot Brian."

"You LIKED them?"

"It's not like I'd want to do anything with them... but come on... don't tell me that every one of them didn't look like a living wet- dream."

"...and you want to see me dress up like that too?!"

"Just for kicks," he said unable to look me in the eye.

"Jesus Bob. You're serious."

"Do you think you could do it?" he persisted uncomfortably.

"Would it get the stupid thought of me being able to look hot out of your head?"

He just looked at me before I continued.

"It's hard enough for me to hear that my best friend want to see me in a dress Bob. The way you're looking at me... it's like you're imagining me like one of those ‘living wet dreams'. So I figure I've got two choices. Either I punch you in the mouth and say goodbye to my best friend... or I show you how wrong she was... and how fucked up you were to believe her."

"You're serious? You'll actually do it?"

I hesitated. In spite of my little speech, my going through with it wouldn't be just to prove him wrong. If that was the only reason, the idea would have ended right there. But as much as I didn't want to admit it, I really WAS curious about the whole thing. I couldn't help think about an unplanned little "experiment" with my mother's dirty laundry a couple of years back too. I still wouldn't think of trying it on my own... but Bob's not-so-unwelcome pressuring (and the "excuse" it gave me) made the idea (even as wrong as it was) too hard to resist.

"You're paying for it though."

"Shit yeah!"

"Don't smile so much asshole. It's freakin' me out."

"Shit yeah," he repeated with a smile bigger than ever.

We found the address. We mentioned the restaurant. We were buzzed in. I turned to Bob as we climbed the narrow stairs.

"Not a word of this to anyone. Ever. OK?"

"OK"

"Promise."

"I promise Brian."

We reached the door at the top. A middle aged woman in jeans and a halter-top opened the door.

"Candy?" Bob said.

Instead of answering, she turned to me and asked, "Are you Stacy?"

"Not yet."

"Good answer. Is he your boyfriend?"

"No."

"Pity. He's a handsome one. He can't stay though."

"Why not?"

"Too many guys like watching the transformations... and I'm not running a peep show."

I nodded. Bob asked if I wanted to go too. I was scared out of my mind, but the curiosity was too overwhelming to back away at that point. Candy looked at me.

"You've got to do everything I ask," she said with a doubtful eye. "Or I won't do it at all."

"OK," I said nervously.

"Its two thousand bucks," she said. "Clothes included."

"Can you take travelers' checks?" Bob asked like a tourist.

Candy laughed but took them. It was a big chunk of the prize-money. After Bob asked if my cell phone was charged, he headed for the door with an almost guilty look on his face.

"It'll be about six hours," Candy called out.

"Six hours?" I said.

"Beauty isn't easy Stacy."

I didn't bother giving her my real name. The door closed with a click, followed by Candy bolting it further. I wasn't scared about the locks. >From what I thought I knew about New York, I actually expected half a dozen more of them actually. I was more scared by all the ultra- feminine things and woman-making accouterments packing her small space.

"First... a shower," she said.

She handed me various hair removal creams and told me how to apply them. The word "everywhere" was reinforced several times. She gave me something she called a gaff and told me how to pull my boy-bits back between my legs under it. She gave me a medieval looking undergarment with a heavily boned midsection with dozens of eye-hooks... and padding on the hips and ass.

"Are you ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be."

"Good. Off you go."

It couldn't believe that I was in a strange New York apartment with various hair removing chemicals slathered over my naked body in her bathroom. I couldn't believe my body hair was washing off me... or how feminizing smooth skin could be. I couldn't believe that I was getting turned on by it.

"Are you almost out?" Candy called as my hard-on kept swelling.

"In a minute," I said.

I couldn't get the gaff over my stiffening penis.

In a panic, I did the only thing I knew to relieve a hard on quickly. I jerked off. It didn't take long; and I was soon wiggling into that crushing undergarment and was straining to clasp the hooks over my compressed little torso.

My little boy bits were completely hidden. With my smooth skin and artificial curves below, I already looked more like a Stacy than a Brian. I could hardly breathe. I couldn't stay in the bathroom forever and finally forced myself to step out.

"Oh you're going to be a sexy little minx," Candy cooed when she saw me.

"I'll bet you say that to all the girls," I managed to joke in spite of my nervousness.

She laughed.

"That's the spirit Dearie! No need to be scared. Have fun with it!"

I smiled in spite of myself.

Candy sat me in a chair and started working harsh smelling chemicals into my hair, which seemed more deliciously terrifying than the smooth skin. It was to dye my hair to match the long blonde extensions she wanted to weave into my own. While timing the chemicals, she started clipping, filing, buffing, and polishing my toes a sexy bright red. With spacers between my toes as they dried, I was glad that my little boy-bits were hidden so well. It was definitely strange seeing smooth sexy women's legs and bright glossy toes on me.

She just rinsed out my hair before starting on my fingernails. After working on my cuticles, she applied three quarter inch nail tips and filler before buffing them smooth. She shaped a sexy oval tip and applied a strengthening silk wrap before again buffing them smooth. She finished with the same glossy bright red on my toes. My long red talons looked so feminine on my smooth dainty hands. There was no mistaking it. I had women's hands. Sexy hands.

As intended, my nails dried while Candy started the laborious process of weaving the long blonde extensions into my hair... and I suddenly understood why everything would take six hours.

"Can you do a good voice Stacy?"

"Like this?" I said in my best attempt to sound like a woman.

"Your slight frame and size get you to a good pitch... but there's a lot more to sounding like a woman. Would you like some tips?"

"Sure," I said in the same voice.

"Women use different words... feminine words. Don't be afraid to use words like scrumptious, or yummy, or lovely. We also take a much more passive position... asking questions instead of making more direct statements. So if I ask if you would like some tips, you might say, "Would you?" instead of saying, "Sure.""

I was a captive audience and it was something to pass the time as she worked. She told me about how men use mainly three pitches (high, middle, and low) for almost everything... and how women use eight or so to achieve a more "sing-song" way of speaking. Candy told me how women pronounce more of the letter sounds in a word too... like the H in "wHen" or making the "sssss" sound in "sure" rather than having it come out like "sh"ure.

I wasn't going to be an expert in one day, but the hours of intensive practice made a remarkable difference. I really could sound like a woman.

When the extensions were finally in, Candy trimmed, layered, and styled my new hair into a voluminous blonde mane that reached halfway down my back.

"Do you like it?"

"It's weird," I said staring at myself in disbelief.

"So you don't like it?"

"No. That's not it. You did an AMAZING job Candy! It looks like I stepped out of a Victoria's Secret catalog or something. It's just so weird seeing it on me is all."

"Just wait till we're done," she said with a mischievously contagious smile and bringing out tweezers.

"Will it hurt?" I asked stupidly as she drew closer.

"A little," she chuckled. "Now hold still."

It did hurt... but if women could bear it, so could I. As she continued to work, I started getting worried about how many of those painful little tugs there were. Pants and long-sleeved shirts could hide smooth skin. Hair could be cut and dyed back. Nails were easy too. But brows couldn't be hidden... and Candy kept plucking.

"Are there any left?" I asked nervously.

"Hush Stacy. I'm making you beautiful."

Even though that was the point of it all... I was still afraid of having to deal with feminine brows when everything was over. But in spite of that fear, the very taboo of having them shaped into women's brow was too exhilarating to stop her. I was thankful that my bald little wee-wee (in its tight Lycra prison) was unable to give away just HOW exhilarating.

"There," she finally said and moving from in front of me so I could see in the mirror.

"Oh my god," I said in a panicked whisper.

Candy beamed.

Any resemblance to me was gone. Even without makeup, the Pamela- Anderson-like brows utterly transformed me. With the centerfold hair and smooth skin, I looked disturbingly and fuckably hot... TOO hot.

"Are you ready for tits?"

I could only nod.

"OK then. Stand over here and hold out your arms like this."

"What's that for?" I asked as she came at me with medical tape.

"Cleavage," she said applying an end under my armpit. "Think of the tape as a push-up bra on speed."

Candy pushed, lifted, and cupped the flesh on one side of my chest before pulling the tape under and across to hold everything mashed into place. After she repeated the process on the other side, I had the upper and inner curves of actual breasts. The artificially mashed half- breasts look unfinished and unreal though... but there was nothing fake about the cleavage itself.

She had explained that the illusion of breasts would normally be completed with a bra with inserts underneath what she had pushed up with the tape. The effect would make them look real... because the part of my "breasts" that people could see above the bra WOULD be real.

"... but I have a dress in mind that will work even better than a bra. Now let me see... You would be about a size... Hmmmmmmm... where was... ahhhhhhhh. Here we go!"

Candy pulled out what she called a red leather "bustier" dress. The sleeveless back-laced bodice was heavily boned and retained a shape on its own... like the firm "cups" in front. Those back laces started low... where a zipper might have started on the inverted tulip-shaped skirting that looked erotically short.

"You want me to wear THAT?"

"It IS a little slutty," she laughed, "but the restaurant does have its standards."

The idea of what started the whole thing flooded back. I nodded numbly as Candy helped draw sexy black seamed pantyhose over my smooth legs and had me step into that red streetwalker dress. The bodice slowly pulled together as laces started snaking higher up my back. Candy filled the dress' cups with silicon inserts that made my flesh look like ponderous breasts about to spill out of them. The laces drew tighter.

"That's too tight!" I squealed in the woman's voice I had been using all day.

"Can you breathe Stacy?"

"Barely."

"Then it's not quite tight enough. OK. Exhale."

I did. While the breath was pushed out of my deflated lungs, Candy cinched things tighter... making it harder for my lungs to re-inflate completely.

"OK Stacy. Again."

I exhaled nearly a dozen times... each time finding my torso a little more narrow... and my breathing a little more shallow. It was like I was using only a tiny upper portion of my lung capacity... and my diaphragm had been crushed to the point of being useless. I was doing a "chest breathing" as Candy put it, which literally made my bosom "heave" with the slightest exertions.

"You'll have to be careful Stacy. Try to take things easy and try not to get exited."

"Why?"

"Remember those old movies where the Southern Belles would be fainting all over the place?"

"Yes."

"Well they really did faint back then... because their corsets prevented them >from taking full breaths of oxygen when they needed it."

"Oh," was all I could say to the little history lesson that now applied to me too.

It was difficult to bend in that dress... so Candy helped me buckle the tiny straps of the five-inch red patent stilettos onto my disturbingly shapely ankles. I could barely stand in them... but the look was undeniably hot.

The dress was tight and revealed curves that I shouldn't have had. The red leather alone had a fuck-me-now look that was only exasperated by the spilling breasts and bare skin above... and by the impossibly tapered waist and tight tulip-shaped bottom that only fell a few inched below my straining hidden crotch. The seamed sheer hose; skyscraper stilettos; long red talons; spilling mane of long blond hair; whore- brows; and expanses of smooth skin made me look like I should be turning tricks on the corner.

"Now watch how I do your makeup so you can do it yourself..."

I was barely able to walk back to the chair in those impossibly high heels, but Candy didn't seem to think I was having problems. The intentionally slow little strides couldn't help being feminine in those shoes... and from my tightly trussed body in that restrictive nothing of a dress. How I dealt with all that hair and my long polished nails (that I was still nursing as if they were wet) forced other distinctly feminine mannerisms and motions that I couldn't have helped if I tried.

Foundation and powder made my already young skin take on a "flawless" tone. Eyeliner, shadow, and thickly curled long lashes from the mascara gave my eyes an erotically captivating allure that was frighteningly easy to get lost in. The brow pencil gave my ultra-thin feminine arches a slutty definition; and my plumped bright red glossy lips completed the picture of sex on two legs.

The delicate dangles hanging from my newly pierced ears; the clink of all the bracelets and bangles on one hairless little wrist; the little pendant tucked into my cleavage; the perfume... all "finished" me. The contents of my pockets were transferred into a little red leather clutch purse with some spare makeup. The rest... along with my Brian- clothes (and some mystery clothes for me to wear another day) were stuffed in a plastic bag.

"Voila!" she eventually proclaimed.

"My god Candy. I can't believe it."

"Believe it. In fact... you might be my best work ever!"

"You're a magician," I said in an awed whisper as I watched my invitingly full lips move in the mirror.

"You've obviously not done this before," she said without argument, "but you do seem a natural Stacy."

"Thanks."

"It's still going to take a while to get used to it all... and before it really looks like you were born like that."

I must have frowned for some unknown reason.

"Not to worry though," she quickly added. "The trappings will take care of most of it. Just move as naturally as you can... without trying to look or move a certain way. A few tips before your boyfriend gets back might be helpful though."

"He's not my boyfriend."

"Not yet," she laughed.

I couldn't help laughing along with her before taking her up on her offer of tips. Soon, I was learning ways to sit; bend at the knees to pick things up; or even to just stand in a dress. Not having pockets meant I had to do something with my hands too... and the limp-wristed pose she showed me was a natural way of holding a purse as well. Posture helped keep long hair from flopping into my face (and sticking to lipstick) or from breasts from bouncing out of that dress... but there were many things that just started coming naturally without her tips. Tossing my hair out of my face, or even brushing it aside without gouging myself with those nails couldn't help being feminine.

Bob buzzed and Candy let him up. I suddenly forgot the surprising fun that I was having and remembered my fear as she unbolted the locks on her door.

He stood on the threshold, unable to speak or move. Bob simply stared with his mouth wide open.

"Hi Bobby," I said in my sexy little voice. "What do you think?"

"You've got tits," he said staring at my chest. "Holy shit Brian. How did..."

"Her name is Stacy," Candy gently corrected.

He looked at her, then back at me.

"Why don't you come in from the doorway Bobby?" I purred.

He just did as he was told and I felt a strange tingle of a kind power over him that I hadn't expected. Bob just stared at me, like a helpless puppy, before something else surprised me. It was my turn to stare... at Bob's crotch, which was rapidly tenting forward.

"It looks like you're happy to see her," Candy smiled. "I'll say goodbye now. You two look like you'll have a lot to talk about."

I let her usher us both toward the door. Her goodbye was warm but thankfully quick. I thought the best approach was to ignore Bob's hard- on as we stood at the top of the musty stairs.

"Can you help me down these Bobby? I'm still a little wobbly in these shoes."

"Sure Br...Stacy."

Holding onto the railing for dear life with one feminine hand and with Bob holding firmly onto my other bare arm, I let him lead me down the stairs. He stopped short of opening the building door at the bottom.

"What's wrong Bobby?"

"You know what's wrong," he admitted with a red face.

My eyes couldn't help flicker to his straining crotch.

He added, "I can't go out like this."

It was beyond weird to be talking about his erection like that... instead of dealing with the fact that he even HAD a hard-on over me. What made it even more strange was that (even though it couldn't be seen), my hidden little wee-wee was straining too. As far as I knew, neither of us was gay... but the sexual tension was undeniable... and overpowering.

"You DO like seeing me like this," I purred with a smile facing him... and tracing a long nail slowly down the front of his chest in spite of my screaming inner-Brian.

"Don't do that Stacy," he said unconvincingly. "You're only making it worse."

"But I like seeing you like this," I said biting my sexy lower lip seductively and glancing longingly at his hard-on.

I could feel my crushed little breaths making my ample chest heave.

"Holy shit B-Stacy. You're turned on too?!"

"Um hmmmm," said batting my feathery large lashes unintentionally.

Every fiber of my being knew that what I was doing was wrong... which only seemed to fuel the fires further. After six hours of being immersed in everything I found erotic, it was as if six hours of foreplay couldn't be denied. My brain might have been shrieking... but my sexy body liked being lusted over like that by Bobby.

I'd like to think that I forced myself to lean forward as a kind of experiment. I'd like to believe that I tested if I even COULD kiss my friend.

Our lips touched.

Instead of being disgusted with myself, I found my bosom heaving even further as the unexpected electricity of that kiss flowed through my entire being. My legs felt weak. Bob's tongue gently pressed into my mouth and a womanly little moan escaped from me on its own.

His lips and hot breath nibbled down my exposed neck and I trembled. Bob gently started kissing my breasts as I stood, trembling in my skyscraper heels, unable to move.

Bob's lips found mine again and we started feeding off each other's mouths with willful abandon. His hands on my tightly trussed waist may have been the only thing keeping me upright as one of them drifted to caress my smooth stockinged thigh.

It was too much. Bob's hard-on (that I had been trying desperately to resist) became too enthralling to ignore. I didn't just WANT to touch it. For reasons I may never understand, I NEEDED to feel that captivating erection in my hand.

But instead of tentatively palming the outside of Bob's pants, I actually fished my long-nailed fingers into his waistband. The fact that Bob wasn't stopping me... that he was letting me put my hand in his pants... was in itself disturbingly arousing. My sexy fingers snaked against his skin, encountering short wiry hairs, as I worked my feminine hand deeper into his shorts.

"Oh god Stacy..." he moaned into my mouth with our mingled breath.

I felt and encircled Bob's hard penis with my delicate fingers.

"Oh Bobbbbbbbbyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy," I said tugging on his lower lip with my teeth and giving his hot penis a tentative squeeze.

I couldn't believe that I was touching another guy's penis at all... no less loving it. The whole experience didn't seem real but the delicious wrongness only drove me to want more.

The little bit of room in his pants was frustratingly tight. I actually hated to let go, but I pulled my hand out.

"What are you doing?!" he whispered with his eyes going wide.

I started unzipping his pants right there at the lower landing of the stairs. My lips found Bob's again up as I reached into his fly. My feminine fingers somehow worked his straining penis free, which sprang out rampant from his pants.

My sexy long-nailed fingers looked so fucking hot wrapped around Bob's hard penis. Instinctively, I started stroking him as I fed on Bob's mouth. The bangles and bracelets clinked on my delicate smooth wrist as we tried to keep other noises low.

We were in a stairwell. There was no thought of dragging things out. I could easily feel Bob nearing an orgasm... when I suddenly thought of the mess.

"I'm going to cum," he said probably thinking the same thing.

I cupped my other pretty hand in front of him as I kept stroking with the other. In a sudden spurt, I watched outside of myself as wad after gooey wad of Bob's slick white cum spat into my waiting hand.

It was the sexiest thing I had ever seen in my life.

I nearly came right there with no other stimulation at all... but instead stayed on the edge of the sexual cliff that had led to be holding a handful of Bob's cum. I milked the last of it into my hand and watched his glorious penis rapidly deflate.

"Oh shit Stacy," he whispered with a nervous grin as he hurried to zip himself up. "What are you going to do with it?"

The plastic bag lay where I dropped it next to my little red handbag. I easily could have used any of my wadded boy-clothes to wipe his cum off of me.

I don't know why I did it. I don't know what drove me to do any of it actually... but I brought my cupped hand to my mouth and quickly slurped it down like a shucked oyster. In my near orgasmic state, I wasn't repulsed at all. On the contrary. I was surprised by how much I actually LIKED how it tasted. I smiled as I swallowed his sex down... and then licked my hand clean of him.

"How do I look?" I said as casually as I could manage as I reached to pull a compact out of my purse.

"Hot," he said with his eyes still wide.

"I meant my makeup Bobby. Is it smeared?"

"No."

It wasn't. Candy had told me that she used an "all day" lip color on me that wouldn't smudge. With a little powder around my mouth and a wand of gloss to refresh my lips, I looked like I had a moment earlier.

"Let's go then," I said snapping my purse shut.

After everything else, I shouldn't have been as nervous as I was to walk into the light of the real world. There was nothing else I could do about it for the moment though. Getting a taxi was surprisingly easy. Bob wanted to go back to the hotel, probably to continue what we had started in the stairwell, but I had a different idea of where it should go.

"But the restaurant?" he whined.

"We'll have all night for the hotel, clubbing, the works Bobby. Don't you want to see how I stack up against the other girls there?"

He didn't need to answer. It obviously wasn't as important as it suddenly was to me. I needed to see if I really could fit in with those other walking wet-dreams. I also needed an excuse to be out in the world dressed like I was. Any other setting (even in the cab) would make me feel like a whore on break.

The hostess looked at me with a happy smirk but really seemed to recognize me by being with Bob.

"Stacy?" she asked coyly.

"Yes," I said in my breathy little voice.

"And I see you brought your boyfriend back too."

Bob couldn't really be called my boyfriend, but with the taste of his cum still on my breath, I didn't bother correcting her.

"Is the job still available?"

"Have you ever waited tables before?"

"Yes."

"Then grab an order pad and pencil. You can have... that... that... and... that table. My name's Raquel by the way."

"Why are my tables so far apart?"

"To circulate the girls around the room Dearie. People sure as shit don't come here for the food."

"Are you sure about this Stacy?" Bob said with a worried look on his face.

"I'll be fine," I said... and pecked him on the lips. "Come pick me up around..."

I turned to Raquel, who completed my sentence.

"She'll be off around 10:00."

I don't know why, but just being called "she" gave me a little thrill. Bob seemed reluctant to leave, but eventually did. I grabbed an order pad and pencil (which was a new experience in itself with long nails) and made it to my first table.

"Hi. My name is Stacy. How may I help you?"

My evening was truly bizarre. But being dressed like a pin-up while performing the very mundane act of waiting tables wasn't the strangest part. Like Raquel warned, the people really didn't come for the food. They were there to admire "girls" like me. Being ogled, flirted with, and out-and-out hit on for dates was an experience I could never have been prepared for. As deliciously terrifying as it was though, I was more scared to realize just how much I liked it all.

A well dressed gentleman pulled up in a limo... and requested one of my tables. Raquel tried to put him off to another of the more experienced girls, but he was persistent.

"Hi. My name is Stacy. How may I help you?"

"Stacy... What a lovely name. You're new," he said smoothly with a smile.

"Would you believe it's my first day," I admitted. "May I take your order?"

"I don't know Stacy... Do you take orders well?"

I knew he wasn't talking about food orders and became a little uncomfortable. His obvious money, his subtle power, his calm control of the conversation scared me in the true sense of the term.

"The special stir fry is particularly..."

"Awful," he completed for me. "Let's cut to the chase Stacy. I'm attracted to you. I'd like to take you home with me."

"I can't sir."

He looked at me with a calculating calm that chilled me.

"Very well," he said suddenly as he stood. "It was a pleasure meeting you Stacy."

He took a money clip out of his pocket and pealed off a bill I never saw before... a thousand dollar bill, which he placed on the table.

"I can't take that," I said looking at it.

"It's your tip," he said with a tone of amused offense.

"But..."

He didn't give me a chance to argue. He simply turned and walked away, leaving the bill on the clean unused table. Raquel had walked over in her own skyscraper heels. I hadn't picked up the bill. I wasn't sure what to do.

"I think I want to go home," I said to her.

"It's OK Stacy," she said. "Your instincts were right with him."

"What about that?" I said looking at the thousand dollar bill. "Is it real?"

"Too real. It's yours though. There's no reason to let me or one of the other girls snatch it. Look. This place isn't right for you. Not now anyway. Maybe not ever. Don't come back here... OK?"

"OK," I said all too easily.

After calling Bob, I waited in the kitchen, where one of the cooks tried to talk me up until he came. Bob didn't say anything until we were in the cab.

"Are you OK Stacy? Did something happen?"

"I'll be fine," I said forcing a smile.

I suddenly felt silly. Being nervous about a rich guy hitting on me seemed too truly "girly" for me to even talk about.

"No. Seriously. Why'd you call before 10:00?"

I got the overwhelming feeling that Bob was going to say my "real" name... but he didn't slip with the cabbie able to hear us.

"My feet hurt," I lied. "These heels are killing me."

It was true enough.... but not enough of a reason to keep me off of them.

He nodded.

"Let's just go back to the hotel," I said.

I meant it as a way to for me to relax and slump into a couch as "me" again. Even if I didn't shed the clothes and start to try "undoing" everything right away; the image of me watching mindless TV (with my heels off and not having to keep up the Stacy-voice) suddenly seemed very appealing.

But no matter how much Bob tried not to show it... my wanting to go back to the hotel made his eyes shine with an eager anticipation. I was learning more about what women went through than I ever imagined... and suddenly realized that no matter what I felt like, there was just no way to "turn off" being an object of lust looking like I stepped out of a porn video. Whether I wanted Bob's attention or not, my stockinged legs were just as sexy; my spilling cleavage just as hot; my glistening full lips just as kissably inviting.

Even I couldn't blame Bob for taking my "Let's just go back to the hotel" as an invitation.

I smiled as I let him slide close to me in the cab. With the cabbies eyes occasionally flickering back to us, it would have seemed stranger if he didn't anyway. I hadn't realized that I was cold until one of Bob's warming arms held my bare shoulders. His other hand rested on my thigh, slowly gliding over my smooth sheer hosiery.

The idea of relaxing at the hotel quickly dissipated. Those wonderfully mistaken feelings of femininity flooded back in his masculine presence. Whatever resolve I had to be "me" again melted to his delightfully wrong touch. I turned to face him. Our lips again touched.

My body trembled as we kissed. I was terrified by how my body, my soul, my very being reacted to his lips, his breath, his touch, even his taste as our tongues probed each other's mouths. I was scared to know that the arousal we felt earlier in the stairwell was no "accident".

He pulled away and took his hand off my thigh.

"We'd better stop," he whispered into my ear.

My eyes flickered to Bob's crotch... and the straining hard-on in his pants. Thoughts of his glorious penis rushed back into my mind. Not being able to have it only made me crave it even more, which frightened me in itself.

What was happening to me?!

Lust will make you do strange things. At that moment, I really didn't care about what was happening to me. All I cared about was getting back to that hotel room.

Bob must have been embarrassed when we stepped out of the cab and walked through the lobby together... but I'm sure not many people paid any attention to his tented pants. Looking like a hooker being led up to a room, I was the one who felt countless eyes following me. I didn't care. If anything, I was enjoying the attention.

My bosom was heaving by the time Bob keyed us into our room. There was still no cot... but that was more than OK now. Our lips found each other before the door clicked shut behind us.

"Oh!" I squealed as Bob suddenly swept me off my feet and carried me to the bed.

He smiled as he kicked off his shoes; climbed onto the bed; and perched himself on his side and slightly over me.

"You have no idea how hot you are Stacy."

His hand almost idly caressed the length of my silky legs, sending shivers racing over my skin.

"I have a confession to make Bobby."

"What?" he asked with genuine curiosity.

"I never expected it... but you look hot to me too."

"Really?"

"Uh huh," I said biting my pouting lower lip seductively. "Your penis looked so beautiful to me... I've been thinking about it all day."

"You have?!"

His hard-on started swelling against me as he continued.

"I couldn't believe when you... you know... swallowed after. The way you licked your hand was the hottest thing I've ever seen in my life! It was like you actually liked it!"

I smiled a red-faced guilty smile with my big eyes looking up at him.

"Holy shit," he whispered, even as his penis actually twitched against me.

"I'd like to taste it again," I said simply.

He let me roll him gently on his back. I climbed to my knees, straddling his legs, as I started undoing his straining pants. My long nailed fingers were able to pull his underwear down enough to free his beautiful steely penis.

Bob didn't need coaxing. He raised his bottom off the mattress enough for me to pull his pants and underwear off of him. His socks were flung away as well.

"Oh god Bobby..." I purred while staring as his sex. "Why do I want you so badly?"

He didn't answer. He couldn't. Still dressed, with my buckled red pumps pointed to the bottom of the bed, I had lowered my head toward his irresistible penis. My clinking bangles and bracelets only kept my hair enough away from my mouth as it spilled around his naked lap. My glossy full lips touched the head of Bob's penis. The glistening drop of pre- cum I tasted was heavenly.

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn," he moaned.

I couldn't believe I had my mouth on Bob's, or anyone's, penis... but his moans and the taboo of it all only seemed to drive my own arousal further. If loving his sex made me gay or trans-anything... I didn't care.

I parted my lips and slowly slid them over his shaft, taking his penis into my hungry virgin mouth.

"Ohhhhhhhhh Stacy," he barely whispered. "That feels so...."

His warm hard flesh filled my mouth. I knew enough to watch my teeth and gently swirled my tongue underneath him.

I felt like I was about to cum myself, but ignored those feelings as I pulled off and took one long fat lick along the length of his penis... only to swallow him deeply again.

I could sense the state of his arousal and how close he was to cumming as I slowly licked and sucked and fucked his delicious organ with my hungry little mouth. My own arousal was at the brink, where I kept Bob. To prolong his agony, I'd pull away... or even gently blow on it to cool him down... only to ramp things up once again shortly later.

"Oh god Stacy! I can't take it anymore. Let me cum! Please! I'm begging you!"

I mentally smiled to hear Bob actually begging me to let cum. I slid my lips over his penis and pushed down as far as I could... and then further. Surprised that I wasn't choking on it, I pressed down so that Bob's penis started pushing past the back of my throat and into my gullet.

I was surprised, and scared, how his penis blocked off my breath inside me, but I didn't stop. I pulled away to catch a crushed shallow breath and plunged him back down inside me. Up and down, even the sound of the rhythmic catch of my breath at the back of my throat threatened to push both of us over the edge.

"oh god... oh god... oh god... oh god..."

Bob was close. I pushed all the way down on him, pressing my lips against his pube-covered pelvis, and popped his testicles into my mouth with my long-nailed fingers. Holding my tiny breath as I bobbed gently on him inside me, I suddenly felt him explode.

"Oh god... oh goaaaaaaaAAAAAAAARRRRRR..."

That far down my gullet, my throat couldn't help but swallow the spurts of Bob's semen ejaculating deep inside me. Holding myself on him, my own body convulsed. Without any direct stimulation, I felt a warm wetness spreading against my hidden bottom.

I finally pulled off of Bob like a drown victim gasping for air. My bosom was heaving mightily and I sensed a ring of shadow at the edge of my vision, but I didn't allow myself to faint. Though the bulk of Bob's orgasm occurred inside me, there was a drip flowing down his softening shaft. I had to put my head down and cleanse him with my tongue. Squeezing his penis with my red-nailed fingers... I milked him dry before finally drawing myself into an upright kneel over his legs with a very satisfied smile.

"That was the most incredible blowjob I've ever had in my life Stacy," he said in an awed whisper.

"Thank you," I purred... feeling inexplicably proud of myself.

There was some small talk... me still as Stacy... before Bob started putting on boxers and a t-shirt for bed. I unbuckled my heels and shimmied out of my pantyhose, but was reluctant to spoil the illusion by taking off the dress.

While Bob brushed his teeth, I couldn't help looking into the plastic bag that Candy had packed with my Brian-things; the rest of the makeup; and the "mystery clothes" for me to wear another day.

If she was there, I would have hugged her. There was an impossibly small nude corselet with laces in front and formed cups... which would easily replace the cups of that red leather dress. There was also mid- thigh red satin nightgown to match the polish on my fingers and toes. The corselet meant that I would have "breasts" but no bra to interfere with the look of the nightgown's sexy little red spaghetti straps.

I silently thanked Candy for the other clothes I could wear the next day too.

But I had a problem.

"Can you help me Bobby?" I said sheepishly when he came out of the bathroom. "I can't undo my dress."

He smiled as he saw my dilemma. The breath-crushing laces were knotted high between my shoulder blades. Even if I could easily reach them though, there was no way for me to undo them with my long nails.

I added, "I just need you to start it. I'll do the rest."

"You mean you're stuck in that dress without my help?"

"That or a strong pair of scissors. Please Bobby?"

"OK. OK," he chuckled.

I stood still... with my back to Bob as he worked at the laces behind me. Feeling his fingers undoing me sent fresh shivers of excitement cascading over my body.

"That's enough!" I said when his enthusiasm to undo me forced me to press the front of that dress to me. "Let me finish in private."

He was still laughing as I took my things with me into the bathroom. I heard the TV go on behind me.

Being freed from that medievally crushing dress was wonderful in some ways... sad in others. The crushing padded panygirdle and damp gaff were next. It was good to be able to breathe again... but I immediately missed the look (and feel) of the severe cinching.

I pulled my bits back under the lacy red thong that Candy had packed for me. The corselet, with the laces in front, wasn't as strong as the dress... but I was able to arrange the inserts into the cups and draw those laces fairly tight. I poured the red satin nightgown over my smooth arms and let that delicious fabric slide into place.

I didn't have the quite the same taper or rounded bottom... but the effect was close. I still looked disturbingly hot... and dressed for sex. I wasn't experienced enough to know that I should have removed my makeup yet. If I put my heels back on (which I didn't), I could have stepped right out of a Victoria's Secret catalogue.

"Hi Bobby," I purred when I stepped my pretty polished toes out of the bathroom.

Though I might have looked like a "walking wet dream" before, as he put it... Bob's jaw still hung open. The lacy thong held things hidden under my nightgown. His boxers rapidly started to rise in front.

"You are incredible," he said drinking me in with his eyes.

He was propped on top of the covers. I crawled onto the mattress next to him and tossed the remote after shutting the TV. A game had been on that I thought I wanted to see... but that I couldn't care less about all of a sudden.

Our lips touched again.

If anything, the fire of our lust was more intense than ever, which scared me. Each time we kissed, it felt less bizarre and more "normal"... and I was afraid of it feeling normal... of feeling so wonderful... of craving Bob's sex more strongly than "Brian" had ever craved a woman.

I was afraid of losing myself to this excitingly wrong insanity that seemed to grip me.

It was easy to reach into Bob's flimsy boxers and free my prize with my dainty hand. Bob's hands slid over the back of my smooth hairless less... under the satin of my nightgown... over my "breasts".

"They seem so real," he said in continued disbelief.

His fingers traced the line of the spaghetti straps over my mounded bare skin. His lips nibbled my tortured little earlobes with the dangles still handing from them.

It felt too good. I was quivering with impatience.

I rolled away onto my back. My hair was a messy blonde halo about me.

"Take me Bobby," I said trembling as I raised my legs, pulling them back toward me with my long feminine fingers behind my thighs.

In one deft motion, I rearranged myself so that my bits were pulled up and against the area below my tummy and aiming up at me under red lace and satin. With my legs bent so far back, Bob had an unobstructed view of my thong wedged between my cheeks.

There was no hesitation. Bob was suddenly between my legs. His boxers and t-shirt were nowhere to be seen.

There was no romance as he pulled my lacy thong to the side and touched his glorious penis to the knot of my virgin sphincter. I didn't want romance right then.

"I want you to fuck me Bobby. I want you inside me," I begged.

"Oh I'll fuck you alright... you hot little piece of ass."

He pressed his weight forward and I felt the head of his stiff penis push apart my tight little hole and slowly enter me. It hurt a little... but the pain was exquisite.

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh... More," I moaned. "Give me more of that wonderful cock Bobby. Ohhhhhhhhhhh.... yessssssssssssssssss......"

"You like that, my sexy little whore?"

"Oh god yes. Give it to me Bobby."

In spite of his talk, he had been pushing as gently as he possibly could into me. Still... being filled with his hot hard penis felt like he was going to tear me apart from the inside. My encouragements only made him press further into me.

"Oh shit Stacy," he said when he was finally buried completely within me. "This feels too good!"

It did.

"Don't move," I said... even as my own orgasm rushed to overtake me.

I had never felt an orgasm come upon me so suddenly. There was no build up to a sexual point of no return. If I ever doubted the existence of a "G-spot" on a woman... I believed in them now on me. It was if his penis pressed a button inside me to make me cum.

I felt a warm wetness dampening the front of my lacy thong as my bottom clenched rhythmically on Bob's penis. His own eyes went wide before his penis erupted inside me.

"I'm so sorr..."

"Shhhhhhhhhh," I said hushing him with my pretty nailed fingers gently over his mouth.

He smiled sheepishly as his penis started to deflate inside me. As uncomfortable as it had been... I was almost mourning the feeling of being so full of him. Bob finally slipped out of me with a little pop. My poor stretched little ass wasn't capable of holding his semen, which slowly leaked out of me.

"Now that that's out of the way," I added while ever-so-gently scratching a long nail down the center of his chest, "we can take our time..."

Which we did... several times.

I couldn't sleep and stared at the ceiling while Bob softly snored with an arm gently draped over me. With his semen still leaking out of my stretched raw little bottom, it was terrifying to acknowledge that I had just had the most erotic and satisfying sex I had ever had in my young life. It was frightening to reflect on just how wonderful our wrong little experiment was... and that I was even THINKING about wanting to dress up in the other clothes that Candy had packed for me.

I should have felt shame. I almost wanted to feel disgust. I knew that I should have been taking everything off; shaving my hair and brows; clipping nails; and showering madly to remove any evidence of it all.

But I liked feeling so warm under Bob's comforting arm as he slept. I liked feeling so disturbingly feminine with him sleeping next to me under the covers together. I even liked feeling his sex, his love, dripping out of my tortured little bottom.

The feelings didn't evaporate in the light of morning when I awoke to his gentle kiss. I trembled with nervous anticipation as I felt his stiff "morning wood" against my smooth hairless thigh. I found myself wanting it, wanting him, inside me. Bob flung the covers off of us and I rolled face down on the mattress and lifted my bottom toward him. His hands felt so wonderful sliding the red satin nightgown up behind me. It felt so horribly right when he unstuck my wedged thong to move it aside... stuck from his dried sex from the night before.

Later, alone in the shower, I cried... like a girl. Why did I like being "Stacy" so much? What was happening to me? What would life be like after "Brian" returned? Did I even WANT him to return? Why was I even thinking those thoughts?!

I toweled my smooth hairless body with polished long nails and looked at my matching red toes. My voluminous mane of hair, freed from the shower cap, cascaded about my smooth shoulders and the dangling earrings swayed against the sides of my slender neck. Even what I saw of my brows in the steamy mirror revealed a woman... in spite of my missing breasts and bald little wee-wee.

Looking at the items Candy had packed, I didn't know if I should laugh or cry. The tampons suddenly made sense as I felt Bobby's cum still leaking >from me. I inserted one inside my bottom to hold him in.

A clean gaff hid my incongruous boy-bits away as I managed (after several tries) to recreate the cleavage effect with new medical tape. The cruel panty-girdle began nipping my waist while giving my bottom feminine curves. After tightly lacing the corselet and stuffing the cups with the inserts, I again had breasts to complete my hourglass shape.

I didn't put on the pantyhose... and instead smoothed the baby oil that Candy provided for my slender smooth legs. The pleated little denim miniskirt looked so amazingly cute and sexy with my glistening legs, polished toes, and three-inch cork-wedged summer sandals. The simple white haltered top showed off my cleavage and the bare shoulders under my mane of blonde locks. Three-inch gold hoops replaced my dangling earrings and a lacy white choker around my throat worked with the same bangles and bracelets perfectly.

Bob knocked several times as I painstakingly tried to recreate what Candy had done with my makeup. With a sprits of perfume, I looked like a sexy college coed on a MTV filmed Spring-Break.

"It's about time..." Bob started to say as I exited the bathroom. "Holy shit! You look even hotter today!"

"Thank you Bobby," I blushed.

In a way, he was right. The red leather dress might have been appropriate for the restaurant or a costume party... but there was nothing "costumish" about what I was wearing now. If anything, I looked more like a woman only because I wasn't dressed like some caricature of one.

Bob moved close and put his hands on my tiny crushed waist. He kissed me... and I kissed him back.

"Wait," I said pulling back after a moment.

"What?"

I somehow needed to fight my own overwhelming desire.

"They'll be time enough for that later," I said seductively. "If we don't leave now... we'll never leave this room."

"And that would be bad because?"

"Oh Bobby," I said going to give him a playful little girl-hit.

Only the hit was more girly than I even intended. My long nails prevented me from being able close my hands into a fist... and a flash of understanding hit me about what it was like to be a woman.

Though I never thought about it before as "Brian", it seemed that a lot of what made a woman attractive seemed to be things that made them appear vulnerable. Nails might be able to scratch, but prevented a fist from being able to "fight back". Heels (the higher the sexier) prevented a woman from running. Long hair could be grabbed. Low cut tops and the very concept of skirts and dresses meant "easy access". Jewelry resembled chains. Even fishnets might have a subliminal message of "capture" too. Did the red polish on my nails or the color of my lips represent blood?

I pushed the thoughts aside as I started filling the last item that Candy had packed for me... a little denim purse Candy with a long thin strap for my shoulder.

The day was perfect on so many levels. New York is a wondrous playground and Bob and I made the most of it. But my being "Stacy" was the best part of it all... for both of us. I almost laughed when Bob first reached for my hand and entwined his fingers between mine... but it felt so "right" that I could only smile.

We sat on a shaded bench in central park having lunch. Bob had a "dirty water dog" from a cart, heaped with all the fixings, while I tried making a small yogurt last. Even I couldn't keep my eyes of my sexy crossed legs.

"What are we doing Bobby?"

"Having lunch."

I shot him a look before he revised his answer.

"I don't know," he started slowly, "but I like it... whatever it is we're doing. Don't you?"

"Um hmm," I said looking up through my long feathery lashes. "Too much actually."

"I know what you mean... but I don't really care... Stacy."

"I'm scared," I said honestly.

"Me too."

"You're not the one in a skirt and heels Bobby."

"Maybe not, but I'm the one whose fallen in love with you like that."

"Love?" I said almost afraid of the word.

"Yeah," he said simply while holding my gaze.

There was a long silence as we stared into each other. In one way, it was all so wrong and sudden... but in another, we had known each other our whole lives. In so many ways, there wasn't much of a stretch from "best friends" to the confusing feelings twisting both of us in the park.

"Shit," I finally whispered through my glistening red lips.

"What?"

"I think I love you too Bobby."

Our gazes remained locked through another long silence. Instead of more words though, Bobby put his hotdog on the bench and leaned into my lips. I was quivering. The kiss wasn't charged with sex... there was love in his kiss.

This time Bob pulled away.

Without his having to say it, I knew that he wanted to avoid having an arousal embarrass him in public. I smiled before we finished our lunch in silence.

"What now?" I said as we put our garbage into a bin.

"There's a zoo in here somewhere..." he started to say.

"No Bobby. About this. About us."

In the back of both our minds, we knew that the two-week expense-paid trip would have to end sometime.

"We ARE in New York," he said with a smile creeping onto his face. "I hear that women come here just for the shopping."

"Shopping?" I said not believing my ears.

"Is that your only other outfit?"

"Yes."

"Then it looks like you'll need some more clothes... Stacy."

Dressing up in Candy's things was one thing. Intentionally shopping for women's clothes of my own was another thing entirely.

"I guess I will," I smiled back.

I was actually shaking as I went into the first dressing room with an armful of skirts and tops. I almost came in my gaff stepping into various shoes in the first shoe store too. Bob eventually suggested that we bring the mounting number of bags he carried for me back to the hotel... where we again expressed our love.

One day turned into another and what we were doing felt increasingly right... even abnormally "normal". My inner-Brian realized how wrong it was to be turning into Bob's or anyone's "girlfriend"... but it was getting easier and easier to ignore that voice. No matter how much it frightened me, my outer-Stacy was becoming stronger with each passing moment.

As the two weeks drew closer to ending, neither of us wanted to talk about the "after". Though we had built a wardrobe for me to wear as Stacy, neither of us wanted to confront what might happen to us after rejoining the "real" world. With two days left, he gave me a different kind of kiss.

"I'm going to do a few things on my own today Stacy. Are you going to be able to find something to do on your own?"

"What's this about?" I asked nervously.

"Don't worry your pretty little head about it. I just have some things I need to do. OK?"

I must not have looked convinced.

He added, "Trust me Stacy."

"OK," I said reluctantly.

"I'll be back to take us to dinner around sixish. I love you Stacy."

After another kiss... a kiss of parting... I watched him leave me in the hotel room.

I was wearing a flippy yellow little sundress and the cork-wedged sandals that had become my "favorites". The hotel room seemed suddenly empty... claustrophobic. I halfheartedly did some more shopping but didn't enjoy it as much with Bob's mystery on my mind. I eventually settled back in the hotel and watched TV while waiting for him.

He returned at six on the dot.

After an excited kiss hello that almost made the time apart seem worth it, he said, "Are you ready to eat?"

"Yes."

"Great. Put on your shoes and let's go."

I almost laughed while touching up my makeup and hair in the bathroom. Though I really had thought I was "ready" when I said it... I fell into the trap of every woman I ever knew about the last minute touch ups.

Dinner was at a little Italian restaurant in mid-town that was much fancier than I ever expected him to think of. Instead of beer and a burger somewhere... there was a too-expensive bottle of wine, which happened to be great.

I was nursing a delicious little starter-salad while he tucked into a plate of roasted peppers, tomatoes, and smoked mozzarella.

"OK Bobby... What's going on?"

He stopped eating and took my dainty hands in his across the little table. I couldn't believe that I even noticed how the candlelight danced in his eyes.

"I got a job today," he said almost jumping out of his skin with enthusiasm.

"You what?!"

"And an apartment."

"A WHAT?!" I said incredulously.

"We're not going home Stacy."

I just stared at him as my world spun out of control around me. It didn't seem real. Bob's words... and all they meant... just couldn't BE.

"What are you saying Bobby?"

"I know it's sudden and there's a lot to do before... well..."

I just stared at him, barely able to register what he said about the job and the apartment. I couldn't make any sense of what he seemed to be babbling about after. Then he pulled something from under the table, which pushed my disbelief over a cliff.

It was a little box... a jewelry box, which he was slowly opening. There was a delicate diamond ring. He pulled it out of the velvety box and took up my delicate left hand.

"I don't ever want this to end. I don't ever want to lose you. I know this is a lot to think about and a lot to ask... but... Will you marry me Stacy?"

"Bobby," was all I could whisper in hushed disbelief as I stared at the ring that Bob was slowly sliding onto the pretty ring finger of my left hand.

He took his hands away, leaving me gaping at the beautiful diamond ring on my suddenly dainty hand.

I eventually pulled my eyes away and saw that Bob was still looking expectantly for me to answer him.

"Are you serious?" I said with a quivering voice. "I mean... I'm..."

"I've never been more serious in my life. I want to be your husband Stacy. I want you to be my wife. I... I love you Stacy... with all my being, I love you."

His eyes were misting. So were mine.

"Yes," I whispered as I trembled. "Yes, I will marry you Bobby."

I couldn't believe the words coming out of my own mouth, but they gained a power, a reality, of their own with each passing moment. I was terrified, but felt liberated at the same time.

That dazzling ring on my finger meant something far beyond just dressing up. Marrying Bob meant that I would have to actually become Stacy... and not just dress like her.

As scared as I was of the idea of changing more than just my body, of altering the very core of who I was, I knew that I loved Bob... truly loved him like I had never loved anyone else. The dread of the two miraculous weeks ending was suddenly lifted... as was the purposely repressed conflict of identity that I would have been forced to face. The life Bob had offered meant that I could embrace our miraculous love beyond two glorious weeks. It meant choosing to become Stacy rather than remain Brian... but that was suddenly OK.

CHAPTER 2

We checked out of the hotel the next morning. Bob looked so silly trying to carry the myriad of bags to the waiting taxi. I watched him being the boy while I stood in a little white tennis outfit, complete with ruffle-bottomed panties covering my padded curves... with pom- pommed little ankle-sox and new girly sneakers. We pressed close against each other in the back seat with the bags that couldn't fit in the trunk. My diamond looked so dazzling in the morning light.

The cabby dropped our bags and us on the curb outside a nice building on the East Side. I waited with everything while Bob ran everything up in several trips.

"Wait here," he said taking his last set of bags in.

When he returned, Bob swept me into his arms off the sidewalk.

"We're not married yet!" I squeaked as he carried me toward the building.

"I know... but we're still making a home together... and I want to start things right."

I smiled into his distractingly handsome face and contemplated the idea of "making a home together" with him. Though I was still coming to grips with the very idea of my being anyone's future bride, I couldn't help be aware that I was even allowing myself to find my Bobby "handsome" at all. I felt so safe (and deliciously feminine) being carried so effortlessly in his strong comforting arms.

He carried me into the building and to our apartment, where he fumbled briefly with the locks. He kicked the door open and I saw a cute little one-bedroom... completely empty except for the bags he had heaped against one wall.

"Welcome home my bride," he said carrying me across the threshold and putting me down with a lingering kiss.

"It's beautiful," I sighed.

"It will be... after you furnish and decorate it."

"Me?"

"I've got a job to start on Monday... and I don't have an eye for that stuff anyway."

The implication that I did have an eye, simply because I was the woman, was clear... but I didn't fight it. I understood that "being the woman" carried all kinds of perceptions and expectations that went with the role.

Just like a man would get blamed for an overgrown lawn, I was the one who people would look to if the apartment was a mess or the toilets needed to be scrubbed. It would fall on my frail little shoulders if coffee wasn't offered to guests or if someone didn't get a birthday card on time. People would blame me instead of Bob if his shirts weren't ironed.

"But we don't have any money," I said.

"I moved some into my account. It's the rest of the insurance money from my Dad. Here's my ATM card Stacy. The PIN is..."

I knew that Bob's dad left him almost eighty thousand dollars. I stared at the debit card nervously.

"I won't need that much Bobby."

"You'd better not," he laughed.

"Then why did you transfer so much?"

"For you."

"But I already said that I won't need that much," I said not understanding him.

"Not for the apartment," he said very seriously, "...for YOU Stacy. I'm guessing that doctors and stuff'll be expensive."

"Oh. Yeah," I mumbled.

"It's OK if you don't want to go through with it," he said falsely valiant.

"No," I said forcing a bright smile for him. "It's just that it's all moving so fast. It's all so wonderful... but a little scary too."

"Are you gonna be OK?"

"Of course I am Silly... as long as we love each other."

"Then you'll be OK forever," he said before giving me a tender kiss.

As much as we needed to do, it was hard not letting that kiss turn into more as we "christened" our new apartment right there on the floor. With a new tampon holding his "gift" inside me shortly after... I dragged poor Bob out with me to carry some serious shopping.

The mattress was ordered for same-day delivery, though it would have to stay on the floor for a few days (before the actual bed and the rest of the furniture could be delivered). It was odd even thinking to match sheets, rugs, curtains, and furniture, but with all the choices... I almost couldn't avoid it.

The bathroom was going to be done in a soft lavender pastel. The kitchen a buttery yellow. The living area was going to be an eggshell with color introduced more in the furniture and "window treatments"... and our bedroom was going to be in a subtle shade of peach.

In spite of all the items yet to be sent by delivery, we made several trips back and forth to the apartment, Bob typically laden with a roll of rug, a heavy lamp, or other heavy loads. Even I carried some things... though much lighter. Hours later, the curb was piled with boxes and packaging as we settled in as best we could without the biggest items.

While I had gone shopping for soap, toilet paper, and some groceries, Bob had opened a can of eggshell paint and painted a good portion of the walls in the living area. After packing away the groceries, I rinsed, dried, organized, and put away all the cookware, place settings, glassware, and silverware. The boxes for the microwave, toaster oven, and coffee maker were soon on the curb as well.

"Are you hungry?" I called out from the kitchen. "We can grab something out or I can make us something."

"Can you?" he said sounding a little exhausted. "I don't think we'll have the time to go out."

It was funny to hear him say "we" when he really meant that "he" wouldn't have the time to squeeze in around his painting. Though he was toiling too, the saying of "a woman's work is never done" played around in my head as I struggled to think of something to make for dinner.

Until recently, a home-cooked meal meant "nuking" a frozen dinner or boiling a couple of hot dogs. I wasn't used to making a "real" dinner, but wanted to make something nice for us. Pasta sounded easy... and we had jar sauces in the cabinets. Most of what I was eating centered on salads now anyway, which could make a part of our meal too. My eyes fell on the boneless chicken breasts in the refrigerator. I never did it before, but I had watched my mother bread chicken in an eggwash many times. Several were sizzling in one of my new pans shortly later. Water was boiling and a sauce was simmering in two of my new pots too.

"That smells so good," he said taking a brake with paint splatters all over himself.

He added, "I didn't know you could cook."

"Either did I," I smiled, stupidly blushing in spite of myself.

He sidled up behind me and put his hands on my tiny waist. His soft breath was hot on my neck.

"You know that you're sexy in front of a stove?"

"You're such a tease!" I said tossing my hair from the tickle of his nibble on my earlobe.

I knew that my little tennis outfit looked cute, and that my reaction was cliché, but I couldn't help "falling for" his little compliment, which made me all giggly inside. I couldn't help feeling a touch of pride in cooking for us... in cooking for him.

We didn't have a table yet and ate from our new dishes on the kitchen floor. There was a little wine and a candle. Bob had paint drops in his hair and on his arms. It was the most romantic thing in my life.

"I love you Stacy," he said as an impromptu toast.

"I love you Bobby," I answered with our gazes locked.

As proud as I was to have made it, the meal was thoroughly average. Bob lied gallantly about how delicious everything was... but I mentally decided on buying a cookbook and planning our next meal in advance.

I helped Bob paint the next day, Saturday, in my pleated denim miniskirt and a simple white V-necked t-shirt. I couldn't help doing it in such a prissy way (trying desperately not to let any of the paint ruin my clothes or my nails) that he laughingly asked me to stop. I instead made the meals and did my first load of laundry (which had piled up from the two-weeks before). He just smiled at me as I tried to figure out what settings on the iron went with what as I neatly ironed and folded our wash.

Sunday was strange. Bob left me to go to our old apartment for some of his things... but none of mine. He was going to end the lease and vacate the place. With the walls in our new home dry, I put up curtains; arranged the rugs in our new home; and started a roast.

Bob brought back the rest of his clothes, his TV, Stereo, computer and sundries. I never found out what happened to my "Brian's" old things. It didn't mater anymore... though it did feel strange not to be able to be "him" again. I felt delightfully "stuck" in a very real new life that was coming together with the apartment.

He unpacked and said, "I told my mother and everyone that I was moving into the city."

"Did anyone ask about me Bobby?"

"Well... everybody asked about Brian," he said with a grin.

"What did you say?"

"I said that we had a falling out and that the last I saw... "he" was going into an army recruiting station."

"You didn't!"

"I did. You might want to call you're parents."

"Are you teasing me?"

"I didn't know what else to say," he said seriously. "We never talked about what we would tell everyone. I figured that the army would at least explain you're being away for a while."

I nodded. The idea of what we were doing was still so new that we never talked about how to handle our "old" worlds. The army idea was as good as any, but unless "Brian" died... the truth would need to be told eventually. When would I be ready to tell my parents that their son was now a woman?

"I don't want to lose my family," I whispered after a long silence.

Bob just looked at me.

"Maybe I should tell them the truth."

He kept looking at me.

"Are you OK with me telling them Bobby?"

He stared in silence for a while before finally answering.

"It'll be uncomfortable... but you're making a bigger sacrifice than I am Stacy. I'll go along with whatever you want. Who knows? It might actually be best to get it out in the open. I don't really care about what people think of me. All I care about is you. All I know is that I love you... and that I really do want to marry you and spend the rest of our lives together."

I made Bob leave the apartment. I didn't want him to hear my "old" Brian voice as I called my parent's house. It sounded strange coming out of me after two weeks as Stacy.

"Mom?"

"Is that you Brian?"

I didn't answer.

She added, "I heard that you had joined the army. Is that true?"

"No Mom."

"Thank God! This world is so..."

She went on about the state of affairs in the word and how she would have worried herself sick over me. She finally looped back around and asked when I was coming home.

"I'm not Mom."

"You're moving into New York with Bob?"

"Yes. But it's more than that."

"What do you mean Brian? What are you talking about?"

I heard her talking to someone in the background with her hand over the phone. The extension picked up. Dad was on the other line.

"Hi son," he said amicably. "Your mother said you were moving to New York."

"I am, but listen to me. I have to tell you both something important."

"Is everything OK Sweetie?" my mother said with a worried voice.

"I'm fine. Please. Just listen."

There was silence waiting to be filled by me.

"Bob and I discovered some new things when we were..."

"Shit," my father interrupted. "You're not going to tell me you're gay are you?"

It took every ounce of will to continue my plan.

"No Daddy," I answered in my pretty little Stacy-voice.

I really didn't see myself as gay... or rather lesbian. Even in that ridiculously short two weeks, I really did feel like a woman... and saw my surprising desire for Bobby as "normal".

"What? Who's that?" he said.

"My name is Stacy now Daddy, and I'm going to marry him."

I heard his phone click.

"My God Brian," my mother started to say.

"It's Stacy," I corrected her as gently as I could.

"But what? How did? Why..."

I heard my father storm into the room where my mother was talking. I heard him say to her, "Hang up the phone Chris!" I heard her say, "But he's our son Frank."

The last words I caught before the dial tone were me father's telling her, "We don't have a son anymore."

I cried long and hard before Bob finally came home.

"Are you OK?" he said with genuine concern.

"Oh Bobby," I said crying anew into his encircling embrace.

I told him everything. I was certain that my parent's wouldn't tell a soul, especially my father. We agree that everyone else might as well go on believing the army story. To pull it off though, none of our friends could ever suspect who I really was.

"No one will recognize you Stacy," he said. "Are you sure about this?"

"I'm going to be doing more than color-contacts and a nose-job when I'm done."

He only nodded.

Monday was strange. I had gotten up to make Bob some coffee and breakfast before he left for his first day of work. Though I wouldn't see him for most of the day, I wanted to look nice for the doctor. I wore a simple black short skirt, nude pantyhose, black patent pumps, and a low-buttoned white blouse showing all of my cleavage... and a hint of my bra. Bob wore the clothes that I had sharply ironed for him the night before. His little goodbye peck felt so right that I almost couldn't doubt my decision.

I didn't have an appointment. I showed up at a gender-specialist before they officially opened.

"Can I help you... miss?"

"I hope so," I said to the two nurses who let me in as they unlocked the office.

The doctor was impressed by my look... and was particularly pleased that I was already "passing" in the real world. He was also happy that I was young enough not to have shaved my face yet.

"I can't correct your assigned gender overnight Stacy... but I'd like not to wait on the hormone therapy. We have such a wonderful opportunity with your biological puberty not yet entrenched."

There was a lot of talk about me, my family, Bob, and the long process of sexual "reassignment". He talked about certifications and lawyers and name changes. He talked about endocrinologists and surgeries. There were all kinds of pamphlets and leaflets. It was too much information to process... or to scare me. It was numbing actually.

He started getting a hypodermic ready as he talked. Though my "real" hormone therapy would be administered and monitored by an endocrinologist, he was going to give me my first doses to start the process.

"Hormone therapy doesn't just introduce female hormones Stacy," he explained. "We need to turn off your testosterone production too."

"Is the shot going to do that?" I asked simply.

"Oh no. This is a cocktail of woman's hormones. I can give you testosterone blockers, but I'd recommend surgery. It's a simple outpatient process really. I have a light schedule today. I can even do it now if you'd like."

It didn't seem real. I was there to begin a process that would eventually do much more than remove my poor testicles... but the idea came at me too fast to take it in.

I said, "OK," anyway... with more than a slight tremble in my voice.

I seemed to have passed some kind of test. The shot of female hormones was almost forgotten as I climbed onto an adjustable examination table with stirrups for my wide-spread feet. My panty-girdle and gaff were folded neatly on a chair. The bottom flap of that table folded down and the doctor came up between my legs.

Though my hair hadn't quite grown back from my first application of hair removing creams, he shaved my testicles quickly and thoroughly. A cold antiseptic was swabbed on me before he sprayed on a topical anesthesia.

"This might burn a little," he warned as he injected my most sensitive part of my body with a local.

I squirmed. It did burn... but I think I squirmed more from the idea of what he was about to do to me. The burning subsided and I felt a numb tightness "down there" as he administered more local injections through my bald little scrotum.

I closed my eyes as I felt things happening without actually feeling them. There were tugs, and cuts, and swabs, but I was numb to it all. There was a dull "thunk" into the medical waste bin nearby... and then another. He was suddenly drawing sutures together to sew me up.

He talked about healing and what I should do to take care of my "wounds". He mentioned something about using pantyliners in my gaff.

"...and afterwards, you'll need to change the dressing every other day. But don't you worry about remembering any of it. I have it all written out on a sheet for you Stacy."

I was helped to a waiting taxi by the nurses. My gaff and padded panty- girdle were in a little bag with all kinds of notes, instructions, and pain killers. With all the bandages and packing underneath my skirt, I felt like I was wearing a diaper.

"Holy shit Stacy. They're really gone?" Bob said as he waited on me after coming home.

"And a dose of hormones too. We're really doing this Bobby."

I was shaking, even after all that time.

He nodded before dropping close to my side. He held my hand in his and kissed my lips tenderly.

"Did I mention that I love you?" he said with a comforting smile.

"Never enough," I smiled back.

His attention, and the reason for it, made me feel more womanly than ever.

The healing was fairly quick, though I was pretty much home-bound for several days, which actually worked out well. I was home for furniture deliveries and service hookups. The doctor called to check in on me too.

Our apartment started looking like a home. I was able to shuffle around in those early days of healing to take care of it enough... and cook... but not much else. When I was able to venture out a little, I didn't waste time. My contact lens prescription was replaced with dazzling electric blue color contacts. There was no other way to say it. My eyes were stunning... captivating. If I wanted to see at all, it would have to be through those electrifyingly blue eyes. I also went to the endocrinologist, the lawyer, and a cosmetic surgeon who was expensive, but highly regarded.

"Your features aren't fully masculinized enough to require true facial feminization," he said moving my face under his appraising eye, "but we can certainly make it prettier."

I didn't care about his talk about pain and recovery time. I had been Stacy for only three weeks but I no longer had testicles... and female hormones were coursing through my body. But even if I was almost unnaturally determined to become the bride I knew I was meant to be... I didn't want time to think about it all. I just wanted to do it while my resolve was still strong.

"When might you be able to schedule it doctor?"

I expected a popular surgeon in New York to be booked for weeks... if not months.

"I actually have an unexpected cancellation tomorrow... but I'm sure that's too soon for..."

"I'm ready. Can we do it?

He looked at me for a moment before saying, "Certainly Stacy."

For some reason, I didn't tell Bob that things were moving so quickly. I said that I needed to take care of a few things and would be a few days. He looked at me curiously, but didn't press. I went to the hospital alone.

I shivered in my flimsy surgical gown, but not from the cold. The "relaxers" they gave didn't seem to be working at all, but I'm sure I was better off having them than not. I watched ceiling lights go by as I was wheeled on a gurney to the operating room. None of it seemed real... not even the hiss of gas through the lowered mask... or the increasingly distant instructions to count back from one hundred.

I awoke in a fog of painkillers and agony. My face and throat felt like they had been mangled in a horrible accident. The wrappings around my entire head face made me feel like a mummy.

The pain in those first days was the worst. Without Bob, I felt alone and scared too. But the pain slowly ebbed... and I became increasingly anxious to see the results.

"Don't be alarmed Stacy. There will be considerable bruising and swelling at this stage. You won't get a sense of what you will look like, but I'll have a better idea of the progress," the doctor warned when he was ready to take off my bandages for the first time to see.

"OK Doctor," I said though swollen lips that still felt like they had been attacked by a swarm of killer bees.

"Try not to talk. You didn't have much of an Adam's Apple to shave, but it's still healing."

I nodded and watched him unwrap my mummyish bandages.

The swelling and bruising was almost scary. But if I couldn't tell what I would look like through it all... I could at least see what I DID'NT look like. I didn't look like someone named Brian.

He had done exactly what I asked of him. I had told him that I didn't want any reminder of my "old" self... that I wanted to see a whole new person in the mirror... one that no one would ever recognize... especially me.

Various bandages were replaced... but not all of them. I called Bob at home.

"Are you OK Stacy? You sound a little strange."

"I'm OK Bobby," I barely whispered through swollen lips and trying to go easy on my throat. "I'm going to be a few more days. OK?"

There was a long pause before he said, "OK."

"I love you Bobby."

"I love you too Stacy. I miss you."

"Me too. Bye Sweetie."

It was the first time I had used a pet name for him like that... but it just came out of me. Even though it hurt to do it, I couldn't help smiling to think how girly I was really becoming.

There were still bandages, but not as big or as many, when they finally released me. I could cover some of the bruising with makeup, but the lingering swelling would just need more time.

The TV was blaring a game of some sort when I keyed the apartment door to come home. I seemed to have caught Bob off guard because there was a flicker of confusion in his eyes. It was if he recognized me more by my hair and outfit, a flowery high-waisted seventies-style minidress that I knew he loved... and simple black pumps.

"Oh my god Stacy! Are you OK?!" Bob said leaping up from his chair.

"I had a little work done," I whispered, trying to repress a still painful smile.

"Oh Stacy... you did this for us?" he said smiling warmly himself.

I nodded and pointed to the bandage on my throat before adding, "I'm not supposed to talk much."

Bob held me close and looked for a safe place to kiss me before he landed his gentle lips on the top of my head. He then led me to the little love-seat near the TV, which he turned off. It was strange. My eyes almost couldn't help focus on the bag of chips on his chair... and the crumbs on it and the floor around. I couldn't help notice the dust on the new furniture or the dingy floor. There were pots and dishes in the sink... and I could see the unmade bed with strewn laundry in the bedroom. There was a pizza box lying on top of a tied garbage bag that hadn't quite made it out of the apartment.

Bob must have seen my eyes drink in the squalor of his week alone.

With a guilty expression he said, "I guess I kind of let the place go a little. Sorry Stacy."

I just patted his leg affectionately to say that it was OK. But more than the fact that I noticed those things now... Bob's "sorry" was what made me feel even more feminine.

The healing progressed well and my new face started rapidly revealing itself. My eyes were wider, rounder, more doe-like. My nose was a dainty little girly nose. The shape of my chin was a little softer... my jaw just a little rounder. My lips were fuller, plumper, and had an invitingly kissable pout that was so sexy. Even my neck looked longer and more slender with my tiny Adam's Apple gone forever.

It was a woman's face... and incredibly beautiful woman's face... my face. Even if I wanted to be Brian again, I couldn't. There was simply no way that I could ever "pass"... as a man.

Amazingly, the cosmetic dentistry (essentially whitening and veneers), almost did more to make me look striking than anything else. My smile was a perfect, dazzling white. I had heard that the prettiest thing that a woman could wear was a smile... but I hadn't really believed it until then.

"Are you tired of hearing me telling you how beautiful you are Stacy?"

"You really think so Bobby?" I said blushing for the hundredth time.

His lips answered without words.

Other changes would simply take more time, but I was ready for Bob to stop putting off old friends who had been pestering him to visit... and for them to meet his new girlfriend... his fiancée... me.

"Maybe we should have a party," I suggested.

"That sounds great," he said enthusiastically. "We'll get a keg and some..."

My look must have stopped him.

"I'll take care of it Bobby," I said as if he was incapable.

As confident as I was that no one would read me, I was still almost shaking with nerves before the first of "Bobby's friends" arrived. I wore a cute hound's tooth off-the-shoulder dress that was very fitted... and very short. There were three oversized buttons in front and a dramatically wide belt around my tiny waist. It would have looked appropriate in the office, a wedding reception, or a night out on the town. Four inch spiked patent pumps and wearing my mane of blonde hair loosely about my shoulders definitely gave it a fun flirty partyish flare.

I kept smoothing my dress over my bottom and looking around to check the apartment. There were beers, wines, and mixers for cocktails. I had hors d'oeuvres, dips, and crudités. Instead of the driving loud music, there was a fun party mix playing on the stereo. The place was immaculate... but I couldn't help turning a serving dish or rearranging the napkins.

I kept thinking about our "story" too. We had made up a background for me... about my life... about where I came from... about how we met... about the whirlwind engagement. I was supposed to be between jobs but had been in advertising... as an assistant. I was actually supposed to be the reason for the fallout between Bob and "Brian", which drove him into the army. It was too late to worry if anyone might be angry with me over it.

"Relax Stacy," he said, not quite hiding his own nerves, "you'll be wonderful."

"You think so?"

"I know so."

"But there's so much that needs to be just right. It's not just how I look even. The other girls will be looking at how the apartment is decorated, the food. They'll be judging me on how clean the bathroom is Bobby."

"Don't be silly," he started to say before my look cut him off.

"Off course they will. It's what we do," I said.

I didn't intentionally say "we" to include me with other women... but the slip felt natural. Like it or not, I knew that I'd be noticing dust or an unscrubbed toilet in someone else' home. I'd be mentally looking to the woman if the curtains were drab or the food wasn't good.

"Don't worry," he said drawing me into him, "Everything's perfect Stacy."

I was melting into his reassuring arms when the buzzer went off. Bob pressed the intercom.

"Who is it?"

"Pam and Mike," came cackling through before Bob buzzed them up.

"I'm scared," I whispered in a panic as we waited for them to come up.

"It'll be OK," he assured nervously.

It was OK... even if it was supremely bizarre to be "introduced" to people I knew half my life. It was strange how Pam seemed to be checking me out more than Mike... as if she were seeing if I was "good enough" for their friend. I must have passed her scrutiny. After the first awkward moments, her smiles became warm and genuine. She gushed and cooed about my ring... as Mike and Bob started a separate conversation about a game that I didn't have time to even know about.

Neither of them suspected a thing. Other guests arrived and Pam's early kind of blessing seemed to carry through. No one suspected. I was simply Stacy... Bob's beautiful fiancé and perfect hostess.

Except for brief interactions, I realized that there were almost two parties going on at the same time. I never understood just how separate an experience the guys were having until I was drawn into the girl's version of the party. The "girl-talk" didn't just focus on outfits; places to shop in New York; how the apartment was decorated; or recipes. I got the girl's version of everyone's history through snippets about relationships and other gossips. I learned things about Bob, the others, and even "Brian" that were truly eye-opening... and I realized that I only knew a fraction about my "close" friends before.

"How's my beautiful bride?" Bob said coming up from behind me and giving a little nibble on my neck that made me giggle.

The other girls giggled with me.

"Fine silly. Have you checked to see if everyone has enough to drink?"

"How about you?" he said looking at my near-empty glass of white wine.

He didn't wait for me to answer. He simply plucked away my glass and headed toward the kitchen where the bottles were.

"He's SO cute," Rachel said to a circle of nodding heads.

"But he's the lucky one," Ally added. "You're really beautiful Stacy."

"You're just saying that," I blushed.

The party was too wonderful for words... but Bob and I were both exhausted when the last of our friends left.

"Everyone LOVED you Stacy."

"Really?"

"They couldn't stop raving about you. They guys kept wondering how I landed someone as "hot" as you. It was funny."

"What was funny? You don't think I'm hot?"

"No... That's not what I meant Stacy..."

"I slaved to make this party perfect. I worked so hard to look just right..."

"And you did look..."

"I've even changed my body for you Bobby... and you... you..."

I couldn't help it. I cried. I don't know if it was the exhaustion, or the wine, or the female hormones coursing through me... but I didn't care. I knew I was being irrational... but I knew what I felt.

"You don't understand," he said with a pleading tone. "I didn't..."

"Leave me alone!" I said through my tears before running into the bedroom and closing the door behind me to cry.

Thinking about the awaiting mess only reminded me of all the sacrifices I was making for him.

"Stacy..." he called through the door.

I just cried silently until falling asleep... cleaning be damned.

I woke up early and opened the door to pee. Bob was sleeping uncomfortably on the couch in his clothes. Even though I felt bad about getting upset with him, I didn't want to apologize. I still thought he should have been more sensitive with me.

After going to the bathroom to pee and brush my teeth, I just couldn't go back to the bedroom. As quietly as I could, I started pouring out beer bottles and classes and filling the trash.

"Stacy?"

"Yes Bobby."

He was groggy but getting up to come over. With a bit of scruff on his face, he looked too good to me right then. It was hard to stay angry like I wanted.

He said, "I'm sorry Honey. I don't know why I said what I said... but you know how beautiful you are to me... how hot. I'm sorry."

"I might have flown off the handle a little," I said sheepishly.

"Forgive me?"

He didn't give me a chance to answer. Bob stepped in close and took my hands in his... gazing into my electric blue eyes. His lips touched mine... but only briefly.

"You even taste nice," he said with a smile as he covered his own mouth. "Let me brush my teeth."

It was our first spat... but the "making up" afterwards almost made it worth it.

Our lives fell into new routines. I always planned to get a job, but was nervous about I.D.'s and background checks. I also wanted to spend some time learning how to be "me" first too. I could always sew a button, but that was about it. So aside from reading all I could about fashion, makeup, hair and other beauty secrets in the magazines, I took a cooking class, a sewing class, and even a flower arranging class.

Bob actually chuckled when I signed up for a secretarial class.

"You know how to type well enough."

"Don't laugh Bobby. I'm going to need a job sometime."

He nodded... clearly not wanting to get into another hormone-charged tiff.

"I'd like to take a dance class," I said one night.

"That sounds great," he answered automatically.

"Together," I added with a smile.

"But I don't..."

"Neither of us knows how to really dance Bobby. We don't have a date for the wedding yet, but it's going to happen sometime... and I don't want to be embarrassed."

I almost enjoyed the cornered look in his face before he agreed.

The lessons were surprisingly fun... for both of us. Waltz, Fox-Trot, Swing-Step. We were just learning the basic steps in the beginning, but feeling him lead me around the dance floor was a new kind of heaven that I never expected.

The weeks flew by. I was becoming a better cook, homemaker, and dancer. We were into our second dance class, which built of the first steps while introducing the Tango, Salsa, and Marenge. My body was changing too. My nipples were becoming increasingly sensitive and it felt like knots were forming under them. They had become bigger, and I had my first titty-hard-on... something that Bob was excited about, though they were still way too tender for him yet.

My doctor's were very impressed by my progress too. They were happy to see me living in my gender-appropriate role full time... and that I had already undergone the facial feminizations with such a healthy mental and emotional result. I was certain that they all noted the engagement ring on my finger too. By the fourth month, I had small girly breasts; slightly wider hips; a rounder little bottom... and a new I.D.

But the I.D. wasn't just a new picture on my license. School, bank, and medical records were changed. My dusty credit cards, birth certificate, Social Security card, and passport were changed... with a host of other things that was almost scary. Legally, I had become a woman named Stacy. Even if I had long been used to using women's rest rooms... there was a silent weight to being not allowed back in a men's room.

I wore a crisp Ann Taylor fitted skirt-suit to my interview. The pin- striped miniskirt and sharply tailored jacket looked sexy and powerful at the same time. Four-inch patent pumps; sheer black stay-up stockings; a cream colored camisole; my hair pinned up; and lots of cleavage created a "secretary in heat" kind of look that made Bob want to make me miss the interview entirely.

The interviewer asked, "Do you have any experience in advertising?"

I was sitting perfectly straight, with my ankles crossed under my chair and my long French Tip nails twined together neatly in my lap.

"No, but I'm willing to learn and work my way up."

I knew Excel, Word, Outlook, Access, and Power Point. I could type about ninety-five words a minute (with nails) and was actually surprisingly very proficient at the lost art of taking dictation. I had been tested in most of it early in the interview.

"You have a very pleasant disposition and eager way about you Stacy."

"Thank you."

"We have other applicants to interview," she started before whispering past the back of her hand conspiratorially, "but you might expect a call tonight."

"Oh THANK you!" I gushed.

The call did come. I suddenly had a job. It might have been as a lowly assistant, but it was a start.

I was too used to being Stacy by then to have more than normal nerves on my first day. If anything, it felt exhilarating to have such a traditionally feminine job. There were other well dressed women in a New York advertising agency... but I was happy to still be able to turn some heads.

Bobby had sent a bouquet of roses. The other girls were happy for me (with a touch of jealousy). The men seemed to flirt a little less when they saw them... like Bob had staked a claim on me with those flowers.

I beat Bob home by only a few minutes.

"How was your first day?"

"The flowers were so beautiful! They were such a lovely surprise!"

"I'm glad you liked them... but how was the rest of it?"

"It was wonderful. Everyone was so nice to me."

"Great," he said nodding his head as if unsure what else to say.

Then he added, "What's for dinner?"

I couldn't believe him. We both worked. I was still in my work clothes even.

The "women's work" phrase came back into my mind again. It was clear that Bob expected me to work AND do all the things I had taken on while home. Cooking, cleaning, shopping, running to the dry cleaner. I even thought about having to get to Bob's mother's birthday card still in my purse.

I didn't say anything about it though. I thought back to my parents and realized that my mother did no less. Taking on all that we did was expected of us... of women... of me.

"I'll whip something up," I said while Bob slumped into the chair, flicking on the TV as if nothing was wrong in the world.

I changed out of my work clothes to protect them and zipped into a little denim skirt and cotton t-shirt with flowers on the front. I kept my hair up but had bare legs in white sneakers without sox.

"Why'd you get changed?" he said over his shoulder as I headed toward the kitchen.

"I'm not cooking in my work clothes. If you want me to stay in them... you'll have to take me out."

He seemed to get the message... but also seemed more interested in going back to whatever he was watching just then.

Somehow, I did manage a quick meal. Veal cutlets, pan fried potato wedges, cheese drizzled broccoli, and a tomato based salad. As proud as I was to have put it together though, Bob just ate it happily without a mention.

"I'll bet all the guys hit on you today," he said with a mouth full of greens.

"Not with those roses on my desk," I laughed in spite of myself.

He laughed too and my little nagging frustrations seemed to melt.

I added, "I missed you today Bobby."

He finished chewing his food and leaned over to kiss me. He had a different kind of hunger in his eyes... and stood up from the table. I felt goose bumps as he came behind my chair and took my fork to put on the table. Bob started pulling my top up over my arms... leaving me in my heavily padded bra.

Bob started unhooking it behind me.

"What are you doing?!" I said suddenly holding my bra to me.

Neither of us ever wanted to break the illusion of my having breasts... or that my cleavage was anything but real. Except for what was visible above a bra-cup, they were normally off limits to him.

"No stuffing today Stacy. No padding. No magic."

He slowly slid my bra straps off of me. Though the bra had heavy push- up padding built into it, there were no inserts to flop into my lap anymore... just my little breasts with hard jutting nipples.

Still behind me, I let him slide the bra away as he caressed my bare slender arms. Bob's fingertips played gently over my skin, sending little shivers racing over my body. His fingers reached my nipples and I heard a moan escape my full pouting lips breathlessly.

Bob's head was bent in front of me as he kissed me. The little fluttery thing he was doing to my nipples was new and more erotic than anything I could ever have imagined.

"Oh god Bobby..." I whispered.

He didn't need more of an invitation. Bob easily lifted my small diet- starved little body from my chair and into the bedroom. I didn't even care if our dinner was getting cold.

Chapter 3

The organ swelled as I stood at the back of the church. I looked down at my wedding gown in nervous wonder. The heavily beaded bustier-like bodice left my very real breasts pushed up dramatically. The sweeping satiny fabric falling about and behind me was just too beautiful for words. My slender arms looked so lovely encased in elbow-length gloves... and holding a bouquet. My hair was up and I looked through a veil with my dazzling blue eyes.

Though this is what we had wanted all along. It didn't seem real. I was actually in a wedding dress. I was actually getting married. I was somebody's bride.

The doors were opened for me.

As wonderful as everything was, I couldn't help feeling a little sad as well. Though my eyes were on Bob, who waited so handsomely in his tuxedo at the front of the church, I could still see his parents and all our old friends on the groom's side of the church. The bride's side, my side, had all the people I had become friends with at work and the various people Bob and I had gotten to know in New York... but none of my family. I took my deliberate stutter-step down the isle alone... with no one to give me away.

If anything, it made me feel that much more wonderful standing suddenly at Bob's side.

Most of the ceremony was a delightfully frightening blur. The people behind us; the ushers behind Bob; and the bride's maids behind me... were all but invisible.

"Do you, Robert Jones, take Stacy to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold? To love, honor, and cherish? In sickness or in health? Until death do you part?"

"I do," he said staring through my veil and into my soul.

"And do you, Stacy Smith, take Robert to be your lawfully wedded husband? To love, honor, and obey? In sickness or in health? For richer or for poorer? Until death do you part?"

"I do," I said longingly into his eyes.

A ring was suddenly in my hand and my Maid of Honor held my empty left- hand glove. I took Bob's finger and repeated the celebrant's words.

"With this ring, I thee wed."

Bob took my trembling gloveless hand in his and slid a slender matching ring over my French tipped finger.

"With this ring, I thee wed," he said still gazing into me.

I don't even remember how my glove returned to my arm. All I remember was looking up into Bob's eyes as we heard words that ended with "... I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."

Bobby lifted my veil slowly and lowered his lips to mine. Of all the kisses before, this was the most electrifying. My knees went weak, but I didn't allow myself to fall. It had really happened. We were married. As unbelievable as it seemed, I was actually Bobby's wife... and he was my husband.

There was a receiving line; thrown rice; a tossed bouquet; a limo; champagne; endless photos; and a beautiful reception. There was a cutting of the cake; knife-clinked glasses; and toasts. Bob looked so wonderful dancing with his mother. His father was so generous to have a special dance with me. Everyone actually "oohed and ahhhed" when Bob led me in our first dance as husband and wife... and gave me a little twirl.

Bob and I were exhausted when it all over and the limo took us back to our apartment. In spite of it though, he carried me into the building and across our threshold. I didn't try stopping him. Our shoes almost fell >from us inside.

Deposited onto our inviting bed, a part of me almost wanted to sleep... but just a small part. Bob's lips made me tingle with fresh anticipation.

We ended up kneeling on the mattress, facing one another, sharing breaths as our mouths hungrily fed on each other. His hands were behind me... sending shivers over my body as he slowly undid the scores of tiny buttons down my back. My bodice fell away, exposing my ample full breasts.

Bob laid me back and drew the cloud of satin and crinoline off of my bottom. All I wore were tiny lace panties, my elbow-length gloves, and pretty white stay-up stockings. He smiled as he slid the panties over my legs, seeing what the doctors had done for the first time.

The pain of the breast enhancements was nothing in comparison to the final surgery between my legs. But all the pain (and the months of discomfort as I healed) was worth that smile. Bob was suddenly naked above me, his gloriously hard penis straining towards me.

His hand found the folds of my slick virgin sex even as his lips playfully tugged on one of my jutting nipples. I was told by the doctors (and discovered with a long-nailed finger) that my pretty little vagina would look and function normally. I would be able to orgasm. I was suddenly fighting one.

"Wait," I said moving his hand. "I want it to last."

"It will," he said with a smile.

"I'm too close Bobby."

"To your first one maybe..."

I never thought about multiple orgasms before... and, unlike my husband, I no longer had to worry about how long things might take to "recover". My new plumbing didn't require it.

His hard penis was suddenly touching my slick virgin sex. I felt his weight press into me ever so slightly... but relentlessly. It was more incredible than I ever could have imagined. Bob was so gentle... backing away slightly before pushing just a little further into me. Little by little, his penis penetrated me deeper... until I suddenly felt his pelvis against mine. He slowly withdrew... only to press back into me.

"Ohhhhhhhh Bobby......." I moaned.

It felt so wondrous when he was filling me... completing me. The aching void when he pulled back was almost painful. As Bob slowly rose and fell above me, I found myself thrusting against his motions to take as much of his wonderful penis into me as possible.

Our motion slowly quickened. His was twisting and tugging my poor nipples in ways that sent waves of pleasure over me. It was too much.

"Oh god! I'm going to..."

I convulsed in an orgasm that began in the depths of my being... gripping my entire body, which arched under Bob's thrusts.

He suddenly stiffened too... almost holding his breath as he pressed and held himself inside me. I could feel his penis throbbing within me... depositing his semen in spurts.

I started crying as he lay on top of me. He pulled away suddenly... too soon.

"Are you OK Stacy? Did I hurt you?"

"No you silly man," I said through my tears. "Can't you tell when your wife is happy?"

He collapsed on top of me, holding the bulk of his weight back but comforting me in his masculine embrace.

I continued to cry my tears of joy as I held onto Bob. We had consummated our love for each other the way only a husband and wife could do... and I felt whole... I felt "complete".

In the arms of my husband, I was the happiest woman on Earth... Mrs. Stacy Jones.
 
 
 

 
 
Life's Contest © 2007 by StacyInLove

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