Kitten Club

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Kitten ClubMy name is Frank and my girlfriend is Joanne. I’d never even heard ofthe place, but it was her birthday, so her choice. When I found outwhat went on there, I wouldn’t have gone anywhere near it for a verygood reason I’ll tell you about in a minute.You wouldn’t have even known the club was there. It was down this darkalley, lit by a weak streetlight, and just a green door with “TheKitten Club” above in a faulty old neon light. A couple of bouncerslooked twice at us but let us in.Once we were through that door, we were into a different worldaltogether. It was like nowhere I had ever been. There was music, butnot the din you get in most clubs, so loud you can’t even hear yourselfspeak. Just a pleasant volume so you could talk if you wanted to orkeep quiet and look if that was your desire.There was a wonderful buzz about the place. A kitten showed you to atable and took your order for drinks. When the club had first opened,apparently the kittens had been dressed as you might imagine, in sexylittle basques with kitten ears and a tail. Stockings, high heels. Butthese days they wore different costumes every night. One night thekittens might be in sexy schoolgirl outfits, with just the right amountof bare, pale flesh between their stocking tops and their short skirts.Another time it might be Magic Night, with the kittens dressed asmagician’s assistants or fairies, complete with wand. French maids,Roman slave girls; it was always something different and the customersloved it.You sat down and watched as the kittens flounced around, mincing intheir high heels and flirting with the many male customers. The kittenswould go up to the bar, behind which stood a young guy. He would pourthe drinks, which they would take to the tables, knowing as they stoodat the bar that the customers were eyeing their pantied bums. After awhile, the cabaret would start, a sort of burlesque with dancing andcomedy.The question is, of course, why would Joanne want to go to a place likethat? Does she want me looking at other women? Actually, her eyes litup at the very thought of the Kitten Club and when we got in there, sheloved it, and she loved the uneasy look on my face.I was uneasy for one reason, which I’m sure you’ve guessed.All the kittens were men.I say men, but there wasn’t anything masculine about them. Once upon atime they may have been boys, but that was a long time ago. They’dquite clearly all lost their masculinity. I didn’t like to think aboutexactly how they had lost their manhoods. And not only that. Judging bythe cleavage, and the lack of any sort of bumps in their groins (yes, Ilooked) they were obviously on hormones or something. I dreaded tothink but I guessed some of them had even had their manhood choppedoff. What a thought.I want to say here and now that I have absolutely nothing againstanyone of any sexual persuasion at all. Gay, lesbian, bisexual, tri-sexual, it’s all fine with me. Transgender, transsexual, transvestite,whatever turns you on. No problem at all. Only to say that it’s notfor me. I’m straight, always have been and always will be. And eventhough I have nothing against people who are different in that way orany other, I don’t particularly want to spend time among them.The thought of it makes my stomach turn. Think about it. Being a man isa wonderful thing. He’s strong, he’s tough, he’s male. He smells like aman. It’s nothing to be ashamed off. I’m one. And if that sounds gay,it isn’t. I don’t want to get intimate with men, I want to be withgirls. We’re very different, men and women, and that’s what makes lifeso great.But there they were; these males who had thrown all that away just sothey could mince around in high heels and panties. And the thought ofwhat they got up to with the customers really made my stomach turn.But as I say, live and let live. What goes on behind closed doors istheir business. If it works for them, go for it. Just don’t include me.But it was Joanne’s birthday and if she wanted to go there, that waswhat we were going to do. Just don’t complain when I take you to thefootball on my birthday, I said.Joanne could see me squirming as we sat at our table. She could clearlyread my thoughts and that made her laugh. She was loving my discomfort.”What’s the matter, Frank?” she giggled. “Seen anyone you fancy yet?”I didn’t see the joke.”Or perhaps you’d like to go a bit further. Is that it? I think you’dlook positively cute in that little outfit.”She pointed at one of the kittens. If I hadn’t known, there was no wayI’d have known that kitten had ever been a male. He was dressed in theshortest of white mini-skirts, so short it barely covered the whiteknickers I could see he was wearing. White stockings and knee-highwhite high-heeled boots. On top he wore just a white bra and he hadmore in that bra than just padding. There was a definite shape to him.You wouldn’t say he had breasts like a woman but then again, youwouldn’t exactly say he had a chest like a man’s. His waist was thinand his hips were wider than the average male. He had slim shouldersand very little musculature. Not exactly an hourglass figure, butcertainly not the straight up and down of a masculine outline. Musthave been the hormones. He was sort of half and half. Very definitelyunmale. His hair was dark and long and his make-up had been expertlyapplied.I wasn’t going to keep quiet about this all night and I did feel theneed to make my position clear to Joanne.”What sort of man would do that to himself?” I said. “Being a man is…a wonderful thing. You don’t just give it up. You’re strong, physicallyand mentally. I’m all for equality between the sexes but it’s not fornothing that men have always ruled the world.”She looked shocked.”Yes. It’s true. Anything positive that’s been done in this world hasbeen done my males. A lot of negative as well, I give you, but it’salways men who control things. Don’t look at me like that. You know Ithink women are equal. They are. But the fact is, it’s a man’s world.Who’d want to give all that up? To turn yourself into a female? Who’dwant to have their cock chopped off? It’s unnatural.”Joanne snorted at that. I knew why she was laughing; she didn’t haveto say. She was thinking about our sex life. I’m big enough to admitthis: I like the woman in charge. I like the woman to go on top and bethe sexually aggressive one. And while Joanne was always called Joannein normal day-to-day life, when we were in bed, it was occasionally”Jo”. I wondered if she heard it as “Joe”.She was thinking about all that and that’s why she laughed. And there’sanother thing. I don’t particularly like to talk about this, but Isuppose I have to. I’m not the biggest boy in the world. It doesn’tbother me and Joanne has always said it doesn’t bother her. It’s nothow big it is, it’s what you do with it. That’s what she’s always said.One of these kittens bought us our drinks. His name was Colette, andmade sure he wiggled his bum in that mini-skirt as he walked throughthe club. There were plenty of men looking at him lustily, something hehad no problem with. I heard someone call him a “complete doll” asthey stuck their hand up his skirt and fondled his upper leg, somethinghe didn’t stop them from doing.Even though I was talking to Joanne, I couldn’t help but watcheverything that was going on around us.As I said earlier, there was this boy behind the bar. About sixteen ors*******n, probably too young to even be in a bar. I’m nineteen and Iwas too young to be in a place like this myself. I don’t think I’llever be old enough.This lad was different to the kittens. He certainly was not one ofthem. The kittens would mince up to him and the boy would get thedrinks, put them on a tray, and the kitten would sashay round the clubto the tables. He was dressed in white jeans and a tight white T-shirt.There were a couple of men at the bar, buying drinks straight from himand engaging him in conversation. Nothing unusual in all that. You’dcall him a “pretty boy”. I wondered if he was gay but I decided that hewas not. Women like pretty boys as much as some men do.I made up a story for him, like you do. I told myself that he was asstraight as me, and had taken this job because he needed the money. Hehad to parade around in this slightly androgynous way, titillating themale customers in a different way to the kittens, but doing it just thesame. He was probably appalled at having to do that. I imagined that hehad a girlfriend at home and was doing all this simply because it was ajob. I knew I might have been completely wrong, but that was the storyI invented for him.We watched the show, which I quite enjoyed, I have to say. And I admitI liked the atmosphere in the Kitten Club. It really was part of thecity’s hidden underside. You know all these things go on, but often youdon’t know where. Then you find out it’s right under your nose and youlove the thought that you are in on something a bit secret orexclusive. Almost like being in 1930s Berlin, I told myself. Anythinggoes. The straight people are in the suburbs, tending their garden, andwe’re here, in this neon-lit underworld where the wildest fantasies areplayed out. I was happy to watch and not be part of it. Everyone was sorelaxed and friendly probably because we were all in on a secret. And Iliked that. It was so different from the cold and impersonal world onthe outside. I really didn’t care what these kittens got up to. I don’tmind if they suck other men’s cocks, even allow themselves to be… youknow. If it made them happy, then go for it. Just don’t include me. I’dquite happily go back to my home in the suburbs. But being a spectator,seeing all these things go on, it did excite me, in a way. I have toadmit that. Disgust and horrify me as well, but it there was somethingfascinating about it. Perhaps because it was so forbidden and hidden.Colette came back to ask us if we wanted more drinks. I pointed outthat the barman seemed to have deserted his post, so we might have towait for our drinks.”Charlie?” said Colette. “She’s otherwise engaged for a few minutes,”he said, winking at Joanne, who found it very funny.”She?” I said. “Charlie looked the only bloke on the staff.”Cue more laughter from the pair of them.”Just about now,” said Colette, “he’s finding out he isn’t a “he” anymore. He’s finding out it’s much more fun as a “she”.”I had no idea what that meant.When Colette had wiggled off, Joanne explained to me. “Weren’t youwatching?” she said. “See that door over there, that red one? Charliewent in there with that man from the bar.””So?” I said.”Are you an idiot or something?”Obviously I was. But the penny did finally drop.I kept an eye on the door and it eventually opened. Charlie came out.He had this look on his face that I find it hard to describe. Slightlyembarrassed, as if people were watching him, which they were. He lookedconfused but happy. But more than anything, I noticed his eyes werealmost popping out of his head.”Post-coital,” whispered Joanne.”What?””She’s just been fucked. As a girl.””Don’t be ridiculous,” I said. “He, and he is a he, I don’t know whyyou are calling him anything different, may have had sex with thatbloke, I don’t deny that, but what do you mean, as a girl? He’s gay.That’s fine. I’m a bit disappointed in that, to tell the truth, butlive and let live. However, it was two blokes in there.””Not any more,” said Joanne. “Two guys may have gone in, but only onecame out. The other came out a female. You could tell from his…sorry… her face. She’s just had an orgasm. A female orgasm.””Rubbish,” I said.But there was something funny about Charlie. A few moments later, theman who had been in there with him came out with a very smug grin onhis face. He returned to his seat at the bar and high-fived the personnext to him.”I think that was actually her first time,” whispered Joanne.”Charlie’s just lost her cherry.”A couple of kittens went up to Charlie and spoke to him. He couldn’tstop a little smile from creeping across his face, which was the cuefor one of the kittens to hug him. The other one joined in. It wasn’tthe sort of embrace that men would do, say in a sports situation whereone of them has just scored a goal, or the hug of two old friends whohaven’t seen each other for years. It was a girly hug between the threeof them.One of the kittens produced some sort of garment. I couldn’t quite seewhat it was, except that it was white. The kitten smiled and handedwhatever it was to Charlie. He seemed to be expecting it. I could seewhat it was.Oh no.Charlie took off his t-shirt, tuzla escort and put the thing on.It was a bra.The kittens helped him adjust it until it was comfortable. They alsoplayed with his hair, trying to put it in place for him. It wasridiculous. Whatever had happened to Charlie in that room, he certainlyhadn’t come out with tits.The man, the one he had been in the room with, bought a drink off himand looked at Charlie as if he owned him. It was worse than that. Hedid possess Charlie. The man had “had” him. Charlie looked at him inthis slightly embarrassed, eyes down way that a woman looks at a manwhen they’ve just had illicit sex. He tucked his hair behind his ear,in just the way a woman does, and fingered his nipple through his bra.The man loved it.I felt Joanne put her hand on my leg. She worked it up to my groin.”Well, well well,” she said. “Our little friend here seems to likeCharlie, and what has just happened to her.”She had to work her fingers into my groin to find it. I wish she hadn’tsaid “little”.”I think you’d look cute in that bra,” she continued. “And,” she said,feeling my swelling penis, “I think our little friend would like to seeyou in a bra as well.””Dream on,” I said. She was just trying to wind me up.Despite my misgivings, we did have a great time at the Kitten Club.There wasn’t the normal hassle of nightclubs, and I have to admit I wasvery taken with what I’d call the decadence of it all. Most of all, wejust liked the atmosphere.Later in the evening, when it was a bit quieter, Colette did sit downand speak to us, making sure he crossed her legs high up at the thigh,in the female fashion. I couldn’t help but ask exactly what was goingon. I knew they were men, males at least, boys was perhaps a betterterm, but those breasts did look mighty real. What was it, hormones orsurgery?Colette laughed. “Which century are you from?” she laughed. Heexplained that in the past, they would have had to take femalehormones, male hormone blockers, pills, and have all sorts of surgery,both taking things away and adding other things. Joanne laughed when hesaid it like that. But these days, it was much simpler, safer and moreeffective. There was a d**g that had been developed in America thatwould “make some changes” as he put it, depending on the person who wastaking it. It wasn’t even really a d**g, he said.If you were totally one hundred per cent male, with no female in you atall, and there weren’t many of those, said Colette, the d**g would haveno effect. You could take as much of it as you wanted, and nothingwould happen. However, if there was a part of you that was female, thed**g would bring that out. Colette said he was a firm believer inreincarnation, and that he had been a woman in previous lives.Therefore, there was plenty of female in him. He had started taking thed**g just to find out, and within a few days the beginnings of a perkylittle pair of breasts had started to appear. Shaving had become lessand less necessary, and he had found himself losing weight. His “thing”as he put it, had got smaller but hadn’t disappeared completely. He wasnow at the point where he had to decide whether to hurry the processup. I knew what that meant.His, and he looked at Joanne as he said this, thing had been quite big,and it was hanging on for dear life. Now he was thinking of a trip tosomewhere like Thailand, from which he would come back “being able towear a thong without worrying about it.””Why don’t you try the pills?” Colette said to me.”Yes!” said Joanne. “Prove your manhood once and for all!””No way,” I said. “Absolutely, not a chance in hell.”They both giggled.”That’s because he’s scared,” said Joanne. “He doesn’t know what’sgoing to happen. He might be a girl after all.””Don’t you mean SHE’S scared,” said Colette, and the two of them fellabout the place laughing.”If you’re all man,” said Colette, “this will confirm it. Nothing willhappen.””I don’t need it confirmed,” I said. “I’m quite sure of my sexualitythank you very much. And I think it’s about time we were going, don’tyou?””Well, if you’re worried that you’ll change sex, you’d better not takeit. If you can’t deal with it, better off denying it, eh?” said Joanne.”Sometimes,” said Colette, “men, real men that is, they take the pilland it enhances their masculinity. Their thingies actually get bigger.True.””He could certainly use that,” said Joanne.Thanks very much, lover. No, I won’t be taking your tablets, I said.And it’s not because I’m scared of what might happen. I was quite happyin my sexuality and I didn’t have to prove anything to anyone. The pairof them carried on giggling in that way girls do when they thinkthey’ve got something over a man.Soon it was time to go home.Joanne was clearly quite turned on by the whole thing. We got a taxihome and she was ready for her birthday shag. We’d always had a prettyhealthy sex life. As I said, I don’t mind it when she takes the lead.The game was that we would have a bit of a struggle, I would let herwin the fight, and she’d end up on top, holding me down and fucking me.I could have pushed her off of course, but she did get off on that sortof thing. So did I, to tell the truth.But that night, she went much further. She wanted to “role play”.”So,” she said, pinching my bum as we walked into the flat. “You likedthat, didn’t you, Frankie?”Do you like being called that, Frankie? Or perhaps you’d ratherFrancesca, or Francine. Or are you one of those girls who like to leavetheir past behind, and take a completely different name? How aboutLouise? You look like a Louise. What would you like me to call you,lover?””Frank,” I said. Don’t get me wrong. I was up for the shag. I knew Ihad to play along for a while.”Oh, I don’t think that’s a very good name for my own personal kitten,”she said, unbuttoning my shirt. She fingered my nipple and tweaked it. I admit I did gasp a bit. In one sense it was quite painful, but inanother very nice. I’d never had my nipples tweaked before.”Mmm,” she said. “She likes that, doesn’t she?” She moved to my othernipple and got the same response.”I’m the man around here,” I said.”We’ll see about that,” she said. She pushed me onto the sofa and saton top of me. She undid my shirt and had a look at my nipples.”Hasn’t she got nice little boobies,” she said. All of a sudden she wason them. With her mouth. Licking. Nibbling. It’s hard to admit but Iloved it. I can imagine how women feel when they have their boobsteased and licked. If this feels so good to me, what must it feel likefor a person with a proper pair of boobs?We both undressed and when she got her bra off, she laid it across mychest.”There we are,” she said. “Doesn’t she look nice in her bra?”I was well away with it all. Typical man, the blood that makes my cockas stiff as a rod has clearly drained from my brain. I wasn’t aware ofanything, except I wanted Joanne to impale herself on it. Which shedid. Obviously, she had enjoyed all she had seen at the Kitten Club,and she gave me the humping of my life. I could tell what she wasthinking. Even though it was my cock buried inside her, she wasimagining that it was the other way round. She didn’t have to sayanything. I even started to imagine that myself. There I was,underneath, my partner fucking me, and it was easy to imagine the cockwas attached to her instead of me.One of the differences between the sexes is that men come down fromtheir sexual high with a bump. Immediately after I came, I felt veryguilty and almost dirty. Joanne’s bra was still more on me than it washer, so I threw it off. I lifted her off me, something I could havedone at any time before but didn’t choose to, and got myself ready forbed. Joanne knew that I was feeling a bit dirty so, to give her credit,she didn’t make a big thing of it. But I couldn’t help notice a cruellittle smile on her face. A smile that said something had changedbetween us. It was there as we got into bed, and it was still there inthe morning.”See you later, babe,” she said to me as she left for work. Not totallyout of order, a woman calling her man “babe”. But more usual for a manto call a woman that. And there was no doubt that this what Joanne hadintended. However, I wasn’t going to worry. If it brought a bit ofexcitement into our love life, something new, that was a good thing. Itmeant I could get my end away more than everI have to admit I did think rather a lot about the Kitten Club over thenext few weeks. It was all so different to everywhere else in the city.It was so exotic, so new. As you walked out of the cold and unfriendlystreet, through that door into the forbidden and hidden chamber, yougot a thrill. Joanne was working late quite a lot and one night Istopped off at the Kitten Club on the way home. Just for a relaxingdrink.It was “fairy night” and the kittens were dressed as a fairies,complete with diaphanous short skirt, frilly top, and magic wand. Andthey were certainly enjoying themselves.A whole range of emotions flooded through me when I saw Charlie, thebarman from the other night. Then, he had been dressed in thisandrogynous way, the sort of thing a gay man would find attractive, butnot totally gay in itself, until he had put that bra on.If I was hoping, and I was, that he had felt disgusted with himself andhad suddenly reasserted his masculinity, I was wrong. Charlie wasn’twearing a T-shirt tonight. He wasn’t even wearing his jeans. He waswearing the fairy outfit. He’d been turned into a kitten. And he hadwhat looked very much like the beginnings of cleavage.I know women have all sorts of tricks with bras to make it look as iftheir tits are bigger. Pushed together, pulled apart, pushed up. But Iwasn’t sure you could make it look like you had tits if you werecompletely flat-chested. But that was what Charlie appeared to havedone. Looking at him in this top, you’d swear that couldn’t all bedone with tape, or with a sock stuffed in each cup. Obviously, that’swhat it must have been, though. The other night he’d just been a boy,albeit a slightly effeminate one. All right, I’m not that naive. Iaccept we’d seen him lose his manhood. He’d clearly enjoyed it and hadprobably had sex with a string of other men since. I’m sure they wouldhave been queuing up to have their way with this girly-boy. But even ifCharlie had started taking these pills straight away, there was no wayhe would have breast development in those few days.He was also wearing make-up. Not over the top cosmetics that would makehim look like a drag queen, but just a touch of lipstick on hispouting, but still male lips. I know about as much about make-up as Ido about bras, but it was clear he had done his face, or had it donefor him. Foundation, blusher, eye-shadow and mascara, all done verytastefully.And didn’t the customers love it. They were getting in line to gettheir drinks from Charlie, and making sure he saw the big tip theypressed into his hand. What they were hoping for in return, I dreadedto think, but whatever it was Charlie looked as if he was happy toprovide itI noticed the man who had gone into the room with him the other night.His eyes were casting around the club.A couple of times I even caught him looking at me.With Charlie getting all the attention, it meant the other kittens hadmore time on their hands than they had the other night, and Colette,the one who had served us, had time to have a chat with me.”Pretty, isn’t she?” she said. I have to call Colette a “she”. I can’tthink of him as a man.”Who?” I replied.”Charlotte.””You mean Charlie?””He was called Charlie, that’s right,” said Colette as if she haddifficulty remembering. “She doesn’t like that any more. Now she’scalled Charlotte. She’s actually taken a job as a kitten now. Pretty,isn’t she?”I agreed. She… sorry… he was certainly pretty.Normally, I wouldn’t have asked about Charlie’s “cleavage”. But I didwant to know because it seemed so real. I don’t know if it was becauseI had had a couple of drinks, or the relaxed atmosphere of the KittenClub, but it just came out. I asked Colette about Charlie’s tits. Hadthey really grown that quickly?”Blossoming, isn’t she?” said Colette.I couldn’t help but ask what happened in the trouser department.”You seem to be very interested in it, lover,” she said. “Are you sureyou don’t want to give it a try? You might like it. It’s much more funthis way. Girls have much more than boys. Really. Do you want to trythe pills? There’s no risk. What happens depends on you. With you, itmight just disappear altogether. Give up the ghost. I wasn’t thatlucky.””You said you tuzla escort bayan were thinking of … you know,” I said, looking down ather groin.She laughed. She put her fingers together to make a pair of scissors.”Snip, snip!” she said. “You seem very interested it. A little toointerested if I may say so. I’m so glad I don’t have that awful malepride any more. Who’s got the biggest dick, all that. You’re muchbetter off without one. But as I say, there’s still a little bit of boyin me, or on me, sad to say. I think I will have to have the snip.”What a thing for a man to say. Let me stress, I have no problem withpeople behaving in whatever way they see fit, but a man wanting to havehis manhood chopped off? It’s unnatural.”I always knew with Charlotte, of course,” she said. ” When Charliestarted here, he said he was straight. Straight-ish, anyway. Even had agirlfriend. God knows what she made of Charlie. He said he was onlydoing it because he needed a job. But I knew. I asked him straightaway, if he wanted to screw one of the kittens. He said that he didn’t.I knew he was telling the truth. So I said there were only two reasonsanyone came into the Kitten Club. One was to screw a kitten.””And what’s the other reason?” I said.”Well, let me ask you. Did you come here to screw a kitten?””No,” I said.”I didn’t think so.””So what’s the second reason for coming here?” I asked.”Because you want to become one.”She looked straight at me, as if she could see into my soul. I couldfeel myself going red and getting a little hot.”It’s okay, you know,” Colette said. “It’s the most natural thing inthe world. You might not think so yourself, but I can tell. Look atme. I was working on a building site before I started here. Can youbelieve that?”She flexed her arm muscles, if you could call them that. The answer tohis question was no, I couldn’t see her working on a building site.With thin little arms like that, she simply wouldn’t be strong enough.”What happened? How did you end up like this?” I said.Colette couldn’t help but smile. “You want to know the truth?” I did.”I got a taste for cock.”She looked at me, daring me to disapprove or be offended. I wasn’t, soshe carried on.”I wouldn’t say I was ever gay, or anything like that, but I suppose Imust have been. I’d always had girlfriends, although I must say Ialways preferred it with the other person on top, if you know what Imean.”I coloured up again, thinking of what had happened with me and Joanne,but I don’t think she noticed.”I’ve always been the one who wants to be fucked and not do thefucking. And then we were in this house, clearing it out to berefurbished. A woman had left some clothes behind. I was just lookingat them. Underwear, bras, that kind of thing. There was this bloke onthe building site — he was an absolute brute, Frankie — and he said I’dlook pretty good in those knickers. It was a very strange feeling. Sointense. It was like there was some force, commanding me to put themon. I couldn’t stop myself. I did try but it was like I was hypnotised.To cut a long long story short, I did look good in the knickers. Hethought so anyway. Before we knew it, he was all over me. That brutetook my virginity, Frankie. Well, I gave it to him. Gave him my cherry.Someone saw us, and that was it for my career as a building sitelabourer. I could hardly carry on in that environment when I’d beenseen wearing a nightie sucking the foreman’s cock. I knew about thisplace, so here I am. All the girls here will have a similar story. Andlook at us. Be truthful, have you ever seen a happier bunch of people?”I hadn’t thought about it in that way but Colette was absolutely right.They all looked very satisfied in their new skins. Even Charlotte.Sorry, Charlie.”But don’t you think,” I said, pointing to Charlie, “that it’s sort ofsad? Being a man is a thing. I’m not talking about being a tough guy,or a smart arse, or whatever, just a regular normal guy. Men get a badpress. It’s a female world, more and more now. I know that. Peoplethink there’s something wrong in being a male, but there isn’t. Andthere’s someone who’s given it up.”Given it up he certainly had. Charlie was out collecting glasses fromthe tables and as he attended to one table, one of the customers cameup behind him. He pushed his groin right into Charlie’s bum and reachedround to pick him up with both arms. One hand found its way intoCharlie’s bra, and the other down the front. Charlie wriggled as if hewanted to get away. But by wiggling his bum like that, all it did wasmake the man’s erection even bigger and harder, a fact not lost onCharlie. The man was grinding himself in Charlie’s bum and Charlieseemed to be enjoying it.I was worried by the way Colette was speaking to me. Just her tone ofvoice, the way she was sitting. It was confidential, trusting. Whatworried me was that this was not the way the kittens behaved with thecustomers, the ones who wanted to fuck them. With those people, Coletteand the other kittens were flirty, sexy. With me, it was just like wewere having a girly chat.That wasn’t the only time I went to the Kitten Club. Joanne seemed tobe working late more and more often, so I’d often pop in there, if onlyfor a quick drink. As for the sex with Joanne, that had certainlyreceived a boost by our recent experiences.One night we were sitting watching the television and Joanne said tome: “What are you doing?” I wasn’t doing anything, and I told her so.”Look,” she said, pointing to my chest. I hadn’t even noticed it myselfbut I was fingering my nipple. “Bring them over here,” she ordered.”Bring what?” I said. “Bring them over here,” she repeated herself. Iknew perfectly well what she was talking about, so I went over to whereshe was sitting. I started to undo my shirt but she told me to stop.”It’s much more fun if I do it,” she said. She did so, and started tokiss and nibble on my nipples.”Hold on a minute,” she said, and she got something out of her bag. Shetried to push a pill into my mouth.”Joanne!” I said. “What the hell do you think you are doing?””What’s with the Joanne?” she said. “It’s Joe when we are like this.That’s Joe with an “E”. And that’s the matter? Afraid?”This was the first time she had actually spoken about the Jo or Joething. I knew I was right.”I’m not taking a pill that will turn me into a woman,” I said.”Aah, you admit it: it would turn you into the girl you are inside.You’re afraid. If you were a man, if you are a man, it won’t make anydifference.””I am a man.””Then prove it.”I’d had enough of this.”For fuck’s sake,” I said. I grabbed the pill and swallowed it.”There,” I said. “Look. I haven’t suddenly grown tits.”She smiled an evil smile. I knew what she was thinking. That we wouldsoon see. But I knew perfectly well why I had taken that pill. Just toshut her up. There was obviously no way anything was going to happen tome.Not a chance in hell.Before I knew it I was on my back on the living room floor with her ontop of me, insisting that I call her Joe as she called me Frankie. As Isay, whatever turns you on. It turned her on, that was for sure. Andlike any man, I wasn’t going to say no.There was one night at the Kitten Club where they were having what youmight call a roman toga party. Or at least the girls were. There we go.Did you see that? I called them girls. Well, that night all the kittenscertainly looked like girls. Anyway, the costume was a very short,lightweight white dress, off the shoulder, with a thin golden threadbelt and golden high heel open sandals.Charlotte looked as if she had been wearing such clothes her wholelife. One of the customers touched her chest. Charlotte giggled like aschoolgirl and pulled back but the man persisted in touchingCharlotte’s chest, which didn’t exactly displease her.Yes, I know. I’m calling Charlie by the name of Charlotte, and I’mreferring to him by the feminine pronoun. It seemed appropriate.Colette came over to speak to me.”Frankie,” she said, “Can you do me a favour. Do you mind?””Almost certainly not. I’ll do a favour for my friend. What is it?””Well, you see honey, it’s like this. As you can see, Charlotte hasactually outgrown her role as barman now. We only keep her behind thebar because we haven’t got anyone else to take over. We’ve got somebodycoming for the job tomorrow, but I wonder if you’d mind, I know it’s abig thing to ask, but I wonder if you’d mind being our barman tonight?It’s really easy. All you have to do is open bottles of beer for thecustomers. Take the money. Keep your tips. We’d pay you as well,obviously.””Watch my lips, Colette. I’m not a kitten. I never will be.””Oh of course honey. That goes without saying. I was just having a bitof fun with you the other night. But it would allow Charlotte to waiton tables all the time, and she really wants to do it. She should bedoing it by now, but we just haven’t been able to find a barman. If youcould do it tonight, you’ll be doing her a massive favour. And me. Youwouldn’t have to wear anything. Not if you didn’t want to. You can wearthe clothes you’ve got on, if you want. I mean, if you did want to wearsomething, we could find it.””I keep telling you. It’s ridiculous. Do I look like a kitten?””I won’t answer that. But you’re right. You’d just be a regular barman.Will you do it? It’s good fun. And you’ll get loads of money.”I shrugged. That was all it took. If I hadn’t been prepared to do it,all I had to do was say. And I didn’t. Ten minutes later I was behindthe bar. Needless to say, I turned down her offer to “find somethingfor me to wear”.I was wearing my normal clothes, although she did insist on putting aclip on the back of my T-shirt to make it tighter. She said it woulddouble my tips. I was just to ignore any comments from customers. Theydidn’t mean the things they said. Just to keep up appearances, everyonewould call me Frankie rather than Frank, but that didn’t mean anything.Plenty of red-blooded heterosexual males who’d been christened Franciscalled themselves Frankie. Colette gave me a stiff drink to settle mynerves and before I knew it I was behind the bar of the Kitten Club.Joanne didn’t need to know about this.It was ridiculously easy. Mostly the kittens would come up and orderthe drinks to take to the tables. Charlotte was loving her new job.She’d come back to the bar with her knickers stuffed full of money,where the customers had put her tips, while having a good feel andpinch at the same time. She came behind the bar and showed me and thekittens her panty-enclosed bum, which was all red. She didn’t seem tomind.The man who had fucked her that first night was there again. Whenever Iturned round, he was looking at me. He had asked me my name and I’dsaid, as per my instructions, that it was Frankie. He introducedhimself as Rod. No man had ever looked at me in the way Rod was lookingat me and it made me feel very nervous. It was as if I was just anobject for him to look at. When I turned around I could feel his eyeson my bum and when I faced him he looked me up and down as if all hehad to was jump over the bar and take possession of me.I tried to give him his change but he just held on to my hand, strokingit, and said I could keep it. When I pulled back, he laughed. It was astrange experience. One that women, and indeed the kittens, go throughevery day of their lives. I wanted to tell him that I was different tothe rest. I wasn’t a kitten, and unlike, say Charlotte, I hadabsolutely no intention of becoming one. I felt like saying that I hada girlfriend at home and we had a perfectly normal relationship. Veryhealthy sex life. But I couldn’t do that. It would have shattered theillusion of the Kitten Club. And even though I was only working therefor the one night, I didn’t want to do that. It wouldn’t have beenfair.I asked Colette about this Rod bloke. She explained that he was one ofthe club’s resident studs. He had taken this d**g himself, just to seewhat happened, and there had been no change him at all. If anything, hehad become more male.”I’m afraid we’re almost all notches on Rod’s belt, Frankie. All thegirls. He’s likes them fresh. He told me I was like a nice ripe cherryon the tree, and he was going to pluck me off and have me. Which hedid. Out of all the kittens we’ve ever had, I’d say he’s had aboutninety per cent of us. Many of those, he’s broken in himself. But whenhe’s had you, he moves on. He’s like that. He gets off on turning youout. What do you think? Do you fancy him?”I was really annoyed at that. Furious. I was doing this as a favour, Itold her, and I didn’t need escort tuzla her saying things like that. I walked backto my post behind the bar. Did I fancy a man? What a question to ask aman like me.I don’t know why it was, but I kept on looking at Rod, and he keptlooking at me. I found myself up his end of the bar much more thanperhaps I should have done. I didn’t talk to him, I didn’t want to.But I couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to be the latestnotch on Rod’s belt. I forced that thought from my mind. It wasdisgusting.Over the next few weeks working behind the bar of the Kitten Clubbecame a regular thing.I don’t quite know how it happened. Perhaps it was the fact that Joannehadn’t been at home much lately. Perhaps it was that I did like goingto the Kitten Club. Their new barman never did turn up, so I was theonly option. Perhaps it was the extra money I was generating in tips.Obviously, I didn’t get as much as the likes of Charlotte and Colette.All they had to do was look at a man and he would start sticking twentypound notes in their clothing. I wouldn’t want that.One thing you want to know about: these pills had absolutely no effecton me. There. Perhaps you were expecting the opposite. I know Joannewas, in a weird sort of way. What sort of girl would want her boyfriendto turn female? One thing I’ve learned is never to try and understandwhat women do. Let them get on with it. And yes, when I wrote, justabove, it was pills in the plural rather than the singular, it wasdeliberate. Joanne had make me take three or four. Nothing.As far as I was concerned, that proved it. I was man, all man, andnothing bad man. How disappointed they were.One night I arrived for work and Colette invited me into one of theback rooms, a sort of dressing room for the kittens. She asked my how Iliked it at the club, and I said I didn’t mind it at all, which was thetruth. Getting paid, and paid well, for standing in a bar was my ideaof a good job.”And you don’t mind the… attention?” she said.I said I could handle it.”How do you think the customers view you?”I knew what she was getting at. I started to explain that as a straightman, I was probably something of a fantasy for them. I’d also beencalled a pretty boy in the past. By girls. I wasn’t so stupid to thinkthat the men who came into the club accepted me as a heterosexual male,but I was playing a game, and it was a lucrative one as well. Eventhough there was not the slightest possibility that I’ve ever “do”anything with them, they would like to think that I would, and thatturned them on.She nodded but I could see she thought I was just blabbing. There wassomething on her mind. I asked what it was.”Don’t you think you look a bit…” She cast a disapproving look at myclothes. I was wearing the same stuff I always wore to the club now.Tight jeans and T-shirt. Trainers.”A bit what?” I said.”A bit… male?”I asked her what she meant and explained that I had this little theorythat if I dressed in that way, male, but every so slightly androgynous,it would work. I’d get tips. They’d think they had a chance with me,even if they didn’t. Colette wasn’t listening again.”Why don’t you try these?” she said. She held up a pair of cyclingshorts. Well, not proper black cycling shorts with a padded bum and allthat, but white lycra shorts that were tight, tight, tight in allplaces. As if happened, I’m quite a keen cyclist and wearing cyclingshorts is something that I’ve always done. So I was less reluctant thanI might have been. I put them on. Much to her disappointment, I didn’tcome over all girly. I was just wearing cycling shorts.I still had my white T-shirt on.”You have actually got the most perfect abs,” she said. Now that didplease me. I had worked long and hard on my abdomen muscles. Not that Ihad a six-pack. I didn’t work them in that way. The exercises I didstrengthened my inner core and gave me great shape around my tummy.Joanne loved it. I was about to tell Colette about all that but sheinterrupted me. “Let’s put them on show. Try this on.”She handed me another white garment.”It’s a bra,” I said.”It is not a bra,” she insisted. “It’s a sports top.””It’s a bra,” I said. “Okay, it’s a sports bra, but it” still a bra.Joanne wears them.””It’s just a top. It just shows off your abs. Just try it on. For me,”she said.”Look,” I said. “I know what you are doing. It’s fine, it really is. Iknow you don’t believe me, but I’m genuinely not gay. There is nothingwaiting to be woken up inside me. I’m straight. And I don’t want to bea kitten. And I’m not going to become one. I’ve taken the bloody pills,and I’m still a man. Always will be.””But you like it here,” she said.”I don’t mind it,” I replied. “But I’m not wearing a bra. For onething, I haven’t got boobs. Look.”I held up my T-shirt to show my nipples. I knew that was a mistake assoon as I’d done it. Joanne had… ahem… got a taste for my nipplesover the past few weeks and they were red and bit puffy. Not to sayitchy. I’d rubbed cream in them to ease the discomfort, but it wasplain for all to see that these weren’t the placid and ignored nipplesyou see on your average man.”My God, what have you been up to?” she said, inspecting my chest. Itried to explain but the argument was already lost. Within a couple ofminutes, I was pulling the thing over my head and putting it in place. I suppose I could have made out it was a crop top, although I don’tknow many men who wear them. It covered most of my chest and finishedat about my sternum, leaving my tummy bare, and my shoulders as well.It was just as well I was quite fit. It would have looked terrible witha flabby stomach sticking out, or saggy arm muscles.When I say I wore trainers to the club, I did, but they weren’t theusual dirty pair of trainers you’d wear to the gym. They were new(bought with my tips) and a very bright white. So there I was, in mynew outfit. White cycling shorts, a sports top and white trainers andsocks. The men in the club would love it, especially Rod, who seemed tospend most of his time staring at me. The white outfit would be pickedout by the club’s lights, just like all the kittens. Colette flicked myhair out of my face and even wanted to put a clip in it, but I drew theline at that. In fact, I was long overdue for a haircut and I promisedmyself I’d go the barber the next day.”Can I ask you a question?” I said to Colette. “Have you… youknow…””What?””Have you…””Spit it out, doll.””Have you had it chopped off?”She laughed.”You seem particularly fascinated with that, Frankie. You never talkabout anything else. Are you thinking you’d like to have that done?You should do. It’s the most wonderful thing in the world, Frankie. Toanswer your question: yes. I’ve had myself castrated.”I gasped.”Didn’t you notice? I was off for a week.”I said that they told me she’d had a cold. I realised how naive I’dbeen. Why Charlotte and the others had been smiling when they told meabout Colette’s “cold”.”It can be done so quickly?” I said. “You were only away a few days.””It’s a lot easier these days. A minor operation.””God!” I said. “What’s it like? I mean, how does it feel?”She thought about it before answering. “It’s so much more… free.When you’ve got something down there you don’t want and suddenly it’sgone, it’s like having a rotten tooth taken out. I just want to touchit all the time. Prove to myself that it’s gone.”And having sex as a woman is about… a hundred times better than as amale. The bloke has to do all the work. Imagine that? All you have todo is lie there and let things be done to you. If it’s no good, it’shis fault, he’s the one who’s got to perform. It’s his job to pleaseyou. And when you have an orgasm… my God! It’s not all quick, like itis when you are a bloke. It goes on for ages! You almost pass out withjoy. And then, if he’s good, he keeps going, and you have one afteranother. There’s no waiting to recharge the batteries, like withblokes. You haven’t lived until you’ve had a multiple orgasm, Frankie.You should try it.””Yeah well,” I said, “I don’t ever intend finding out.””Don’t knock it if you haven’t experienced it,” she said.Rod didn’t wait to show his appreciation of my new wardrobe when I wentout onto the floor. There was something about him that said all thiswas inevitable, and he had known about it all along.”I think I’m about to come,” he said as looked me up and down. Iignored him and got on with my work.A few minutes later, I saw Charlotte come out of the back room,followed by one of the customers. It was obvious what they had beendoing.”How about you and me go in there?” said Rod.”In your dreams,” I said. I was surprised I had used that phrase. Itwasn’t the sort of thing I would normally say to a man. I suppose itwas almost flirtatious. I didn’t want to flirt with a man. He took mycomment as a come-on.”Yes, in my dreams,” he said. “And before long, in my reality too. Andyours, Frankie.”I smiled in a way that a barman, well not a barman, but a barmaid,would smile at a customer who was getting a bit fresh. A little purseof the lips, a flash of the eye.”You know what I’m going to do to you, Frankie?” he said, carrying onbefore I had the chance to answer. “I’m going to teach you to come.””Is that right?””Indeed it is. I don’t mean come like a man comes. Like a boy comes.All cock. I’m going to teach to come like a woman comes. When I’mfucking you, Frankie, you’ll feel you’re going to explode withpleasure. You’ll probably pass out because it’s so good. I’ll take mytime. It’s better, they tell me, from the female side. Well, theywould, wouldn’t they? This lot in here, they start as little boys whoare not quite sure what they are, but once they’ve been with me, theyrealise they are not quite the man they thought they were. And that’swhat’s going to happen to you, Frankie. Once they’ve been with a man, areal man, you’ll realise you’re not one. I’m going to awaken the womanin you. Once you’ve come like a woman, Frankie, once you’ve had thatfemale orgasm, you’ll realise what I’m talking about. And then thingswon’t quite be the same. You’ll never look at another woman quite thesame again. And you’ll certainly never look at a man the same way.You’ll be thinking if he is “the one”. Can he make me come in the sameway that Rod did? That’s what you’ll be thinking. In all modesty, Iwonder if he could. The first time is the best, Frankie. Come on, let’syou and me go in that room. You won’t regret it. And you know it.””No thanks,” I said.”And do you know what, Frankie? When the two of us do get together,it’s going to be all your idea. You’ll be begging for it. You knowthat’s true, don’t you?”He kept it up for quite a while. I have to admit, I did wonder what itwould be like. To have a man’s penis in my mouth. To lick it. And thenfor him to put it… God! What I am I thinking! I walked away from Rodand served at the other end of the bar.But that didn’t stop him, of course. Underneath it all, he actuallyseemed quite a nice bloke, and later he apologised if he had offendedme, and offered a tip. I put out my hand to take it, but he drew itback.”As a celebration of your new way of dressing,” he said. He slipped thetwenty pound note in my top, making sure, of course he rubbed hisfingers against my nipple as he did so. He then slipped another one onthe other side. My chest now had two little bumps in it, which Colettecertainly noticed. But I soon took the money out and flattened down thetop.God knows what Joanne would do if she could see me now. Dressed up as agay man’s wet dream. Not even that. Gay men had their own fantasies. Iwas the wet dream of a certain kind of man. The type who liked femmeboys. People like Rod, who liked boys who were not quite boys anymore.But Joanne could hardly complain. For one, it was her who brought mehere, and two, where was she now? Working. Again.One side of me didn’t like what I was doing. That side of me wanted totake the top off, and the shorts, and put proper clothes on again. Asuit and tie. Brogues. Obviously, I was going to change into my own manclothes to go home.But that was only one side of me. There was another side. It’s reallydifficult to admit and I hated this about myself. But I noticed the waythe straps felt on my shoulders, and the way it came around my back. Ididn’t want to admit it to myself. It felt good but it wasn’t justthat.There was no point in me saying I was wearing a pair of cycling shortsand a top. I was in denial. The truth was I in a pair of shorty-shortsand a bra. Not a frilly bra, with flowers and lace but a branevertheless.It didn’t just feel good. It felt greatBut it was more than that.It hate to say it but it the phrase I am looking for is that it felt…right. That these were the clothes that I should be wearing.

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