Chapter 1
I was told that when you reach the end of your tether, you either fall off in despair or start climbing back in hope. My slide on the tether started the day my wife, Zena, came home early to find me in my office, slaving over a spreadsheet, dressed in a slim skirt, lacy blouse, stockings, heels and fully made-up under a strawberry-blonde wig.
My parents christened me Adam David Band. My early days would be as meaningless to you as they are to the older me. Suffice to say, I had a reasonable childhood and did well enough in my studies to complete University with a Business Studies certificate, specialising in accountancy and investments.
I did well enough on the side to completely pay my way through those years without having to tap into the Bank of Dad. I worked in a large company for the summer, and, by the time I turned twenty-seven, had an office there that I hardly used. I worked from home with a strong list of clients. I only needed the company to sign off on the tax papers.
It was during this time I met Zena at a party, and we hit it off like a couple of randy rabbits. She was renting a room, and I had my own house by that time, so it was an easy job to invite her into my bed, permanently. We married after six months and had a couple of years being very happy before she cooled off.
One day, one of my clients rang me and asked me if I would look after his investments, as well as for a few of his friends who he had spoken to about my skill. Looking at the likely size of the funds on hand, I agreed. I had to resign from the company and did so, signing an agreement that I would not attempt to poach any of my old clients.
Two weeks later I had started the process of registering my own business. I already had the full set-up at home with powerful computers and my private list of contacts that would pass me bits of gossip, usually for a bottle of good wine. On the face of it, nothing had materially changed, but I was now my own man.
Of course, as you now know, I was not just my own man but my own woman as well. I had a secret store of clothes, underwear, make-up, and wigs to create three distinct female characters. A couple of days a week I would spend all day in the house, in character. I had been into town without being outed and was quite comfortable in public in two versions of the female me. The third was saved for special days when I did other things on the computer, rather than accountancy.
The day my wife ‘found’ me was a set-up. Over a period of a couple of months I had suspected that she had been having an affair. She worked for an Evangelist Preacher called Clint Powers, going into Twickenham from our house in Leatherhead in our car. She was employed in the Event Organisation side and looked after large donors. She started to tell me that she was on duty at regular ‘retreats’ on a Thursday and Friday, and sometimes into the weekend. She took a case with her. I had investigated Clint Powers and would have been happy to be his investment advisor but wouldn’t have wanted him as a customer.
One of my clients was in the security business and I purchased a small bug that would record its position every fifteen minutes over a period of a week. He also sold me the software which I could use to download the results. What I found was that my wife’s case was going to Twickenham on the Thursday morning and then travelling to a hotel near Brighton, where it stayed until Friday afternoon, and sometimes until Sunday morning.
I went to the church for a few weeks and saw how the two of them interacted. Even one week when he paraded his wife and children on the stage the two of them exchanged sly smiles. Nothing you would have seen if you weren’t looking for it. I was dutifully full of worship and gave freely at the end of the service, putting my money into a large pot that Zena guarded. She smiled, “Thank you, sister, let the Faith carry you.”
I was, at the time, in character as Susan Slain, a secretary from Hampton Court. Susan was my most ‘normal’ version of me. She was the strawberry-blonde that my wife found in the office, but more of that later.
One Wednesday, when I was advised of an upcoming retreat, I started early the following morning to turn into another of my versions, one I really liked. This was Dianna Bender. Dianna was my version of Dianna Rigg, and I tried to recreate the essence, as seen in the old TV shows. She invariably wore skinny leather jeans, boots, and a biker jacket over a silky blouse. She was a brunette, and her make-up was striking. I had studied make-up techniques from the internet and was pretty good at it.
Dianna had a Ducati motorbike, secreted in a lock-up not far from the house. Also, in the lock-up, was the car my wife didn’t know about, a sporty Toyota. That Thursday morning was a bit damp, so the bike stayed at home while I took the Toyota down to the south coast. I had a digital camera with inbuilt zoom and was sitting on a bench when the happy couple arrived.
They clearly knew why they were there as they kissed passionately as the luggage was taken out of the car. I took some lovely pictures as they went into the hotel. I got up and moved to the seawall and looked back at the hotel, just in time to photograph them both at a window on the third floor, now semi-dressed. They didn’t bother to draw the curtains when they went out of sight. I went to the Toyota and pulled a small drone out of the boot, sending it on its almost silent way until it was just outside the bedroom window and taking some clear pictures.
It was only a matter of minutes before I had the drone back in its case and the camera pictures downloaded into my laptop, along with the others I had taken. It was almost lunch, so I found a nice little café and ordered. Imagine my surprise when the happy, and now satisfied, couple walked in and took a table next to me. I took a chance and quietly set my camera to record in video and sat it on my table pointing towards them.
By the time I had finished my meal, paid, and stood up to collect my bag and my camera, I had learned of their plans for the future. Clint told Zena, several times, that he couldn’t leave his wife because of the damage that would do to the Church. Zena vowed to be his lover if he wanted her.
I drove home, that afternoon, and started laying plans of my own. I was going to give my wife a good reason to divorce me. However, she couldn’t catch me with another woman, or even claim that I was abusive. I was going to greet her, one day soon, as Susan, a woman she had already met, and see where that took us.
In the end, the result was as I had expected. When I stood up from my desk her eyes almost popped out of her head. I could almost read the banner across her forehead that read “Got him with a floozy!”
“Who the hell are you?”
“Don’t you recognise me, Zena?”
“I’ve seen you in church, recently. How do you know my husband, bitch!”
“I’ve known him since the day we were both born in the same body, wife.”
“Adam! No, it can’t be.” Her face took on a sly grin. “How long have you been a deviant, Adam? Do you go out molesting little boys or are you a genuine cocksucker? Maybe you just go into the city looking for a bit of rough. Either way you’re toast in court.”
I laughed and turned my computer screen so she could see the picture of her, sucking on a well extended cock. I clicked the mouse which panned out to show Clint gasping for air. Then I brought up a series of shots of her and Clint trying to suck each other’s faces off. “Who’s toast, now?” I asked, with a smile.
“Ha! If you think that threatening to show these to his wife will cause problems, then you’re so wrong, buster. I reckon she’s already got a nice little album of him with other girls from the congregation. I’m not the first and I doubt that I’ll be the last.”
“So how much of a problem would my sending these to the papers bring? Or, even printing off some posters and putting them up outside the church while you’re all inside. While I have these you can’t touch me. There are copies in the cloud that will go to a lot of places if I don’t log in regularly. No, you’re two-timing whore, and we need to discuss this with a view to coming to an equitable agreement.”
If you had taken a picture of the two of us, sitting at opposite ends of the kitchen table, with her looking at me with hate in her eyes, you would be forgiven thinking that I had stuffed things up. I had a plan, and that started from today when I put a lock on my bedroom door and pulled out all my dresses to hang away in the walk-in. It was nice to be able to wash my undies in full view and set out my make-up on the dressing table.
We agreed that we would continue living in the house while I looked for somewhere else. Once I moved out, she was allowed to live there rent-free but to cover all outgoings. As I said earlier, the house was mine, free and clear. I told her that I would disappear and wouldn’t bother her, ever again. The speed that she agreed showed me that divorce was front and centre in her mind.
I looked for a place ‘in the country’ and saw an advertisement in ‘Country Life’ that looked interesting. Rather than selling the property, the content said that someone was needed to take up residence and that purchase would be dependent on the buyer meeting certain criteria. I called the agent and made an appointment to meet him, at his office, the following week. When I conveyed this information to Zena, her eyes lit up.
On the day I went to the agent, I left very early, in a car I had hired for the occasion. The agent was in Nottingham, a few hours north. I took it easy and stopped for a light lunch. The agent was very welcoming, telling me that I was about the tenth person that he had shown the property to. The previous ones didn’t pass the examination from the vendors.
I sat in his car as he took me out to the viewing. He explained that the property was one of six, all barn conversions. They were in two blocks of three, set well apart, with another big barn behind the two properties, making a big ‘U’ shape. He turned off the main road onto a country road which led, if the signpost was to be believed, to Eakring and Kneesall.
Some way along, among rolling fields, he turned into an unmarked lane which took us to the property. He told me that the vendors used to own the whole farm but had sold off the main farmhouse and most of the land, only keeping the lane and about five acres on which the obsolete barns stood.
When we arrived, he drove up, past one barn, and pulled up in front of the central one. The two conversions were about fifty metres apart, parallel, and the yard that would have separated them was now a very pleasant garden with trees, grass, and a few benches. The one he showed me was the front one, on the right if you were looking from the road. When he opened up and led me in, I was already in love with it. The finish was top-class. The conversion was ultra-modern with a touch of deco. It had three big bedrooms and an office that looked out towards the road. This end of the property was south-facing and the kitchen on the ground floor looked out at the same view.
The lounge and utilities were fantastic, and I was starting to wonder whether I could even afford it all. Whenever I asked about the price he skirted the question, saying that the vendors would explain it all. When we came out, he took me back towards his car. In the back barn I could see a couple of faces looking down at us from the upper left-hand window. The ground floor frontage was a pair of large roller doors, each side of a central entry door, which was now open.
“I’ll wait for you in the car. If you go in through that door there’s a stairway. You should be able to get to that room, up there. Take your time. You’re looking at the fourth, and last, property that’s for sale. I get a commission based on the market value of the place but never get to find out the actual sale price. These have been a nice little earner, as you no doubt realise, seeing how well the place has been presented.”
I entered the building and went up the stairs, turning to my left and walking towards an open door near the end. Going in, I saw a large room set out as a reading or relaxing room. It was occupied by five men. One rose to greet me and we looked each other in the eyes as we shook hands. I was reasonably tall, just under six feet, and he was an inch or so taller. He had the air of a man who ran a large business. I had met a few of these in my time.
“Welcome to Tethering Farm, Mister Band. Well, the bit we still own. I’m Brinton Edgerton, one of the original owners of the previous five hundred acres. This is my brother, Erik.”
The two were truly chalk and cheese. While Brinton was tall and imposing, Erik was dumpy and looked like an extra from ‘Lord of the Rings’ with a straggly beard and unruly hair. Think Arnie and DeVito in Twins. The brothers, I was told, lived in number one and two.
The resident from number three was introduced next. He was Gerry Grace and he told me he was a graphic artist and painter and looked like one. The occupant of number four was Kurt Wolff, a mechanic and general ‘Jack of all Trades’. Again, in his flannel shirt and jeans, you could hardly say he would be anything but a mechanic.
The fifth to be introduced was a type I had met often. My first thought was “advertising”, and I was proved correct. Brian Aggetter was into advertising and events organisation.
I was offered a seat and a glass of whiskey and then they started by asking me why I was looking for somewhere so remote. I said that I was fed up with the hustle and bustle of city life and wanted peace and quiet. We got on to what I did for a living, and I noticed a few flashes in eyes when I told them that I was an accountant, specialising in investments. The fact that I would set up and work from home caused a few smiles.
Over a period of about twenty minutes, we had covered most of the bases and I took the opportunity to ask the price. Erik grinned, “How much do you think it’s worth, Adam?”
“About seven hundred thousand, I think. That’s a bit more than I can spare now so I’m sorry if I’ve wasted your time.”
“Not a waste of time, Adam,” Brinton smiled, “I like you and I think the others would agree. I expect that you have deduced that we are not your usual development residents. We tend to work together in our little escapades. We tend to go down the local pub together; we attend concerts and plays together. We are all in the nearby Amateur Dramatic Society. We all live a second life as another character. Do you lead a second life, Adam?”
I weighed up my answer and then said, “Yes, I do, more than one.”
“What is it that sets you apart, Adam? I can tell you that you’re more than halfway towards owning number six. This could tip things in your favour.”
“I write. Not just any old story. I have a series of books that you can down-load as e-books. They all follow the life of a Private Investigator called Max Force.”
There was an intake of breath from the two that I had surmised may be readers.
Gerry whispered, “You’re Maxine Fawcett?”
I nodded, pleased that I had a real-life reader.
Brian laughed, “My favourite writer, sitting here in front of us. Brinton, I don’t think the second interview is needed, I vote Adam into number six.”
“Let’s not be too quick, Brian. I still think that the follow-up is needed. Adam, you are just the second applicant to get to be asked to come back. If you come here, alone, a week from today, we’ll greet you in our second skins. I hope that you can pass well enough in yours. If you do, the property will be yours for two hundred and fifty thousand and we’ll use your skills to increase our own savings. I’m sure that, in a year or two, you will have made us the price difference. If not, we’ll just have to have a little chat about the purchase price again.”
We stood and I shook hands with them all. Back outside I woke the dozing agent, and he took me back to his office. All he asked was whether I was asked back and smiled broadly when I said I was. I think he could already count his commission.
Back in Leatherhead I returned the hire car and took a taxi home. Zena asked me if I had been successful, and I nodded. She said that she was going out and may not be home for a couple of days. She left, dragging her case, and gave me a smile as she went.
The day of the second viewing came around. When Zena took the car I walked to the lock-up and brought the Toyota home. When I left, I was in the open as Maxine Fawcett for the first time. Any reader of my books would be able to describe her. In long, high-heeled boots, I was now easily as tall as Brinton. The skin-tight soft leather jeans, the black blouse over a black bra, the obvious cleavage and the raven-haired wig completed the basic look. It took a while to get the make-up right, but I was happy with it as I picked up my bag and keys. There was just a matching soft leather biker jacket and a spritz of Opium to add and I was off again.
At the farm I pulled up outside the back barn. It was now wide open, showing five vehicles parked inside with a workshop behind each side. I took off my sunglasses and looked around. Brinton came out of the garage, and I grinned, being right with my guess of his second skin. His was a male version of mine, typical master outfit. I have to say that he looked good in his own leather top and jeans. This time he didn’t shake hands.
He walked up to me and kissed me on my lips. I allowed him a few moments of joy before I gently pushed my knee into his groin. He took the hint and let me go.
“Do that again, unasked, and the knee will be moving faster.”
He laughed, “The Body in the Tip.”
“You’ve been doing your homework, Brinton.”
“Jenny and Aggie have shown me the light. Your writing is fast-paced and very sexy. It almost made me cum.”
“Almost?” I winked at him, “I consider myself to be a failure if you hadn’t wanked yourself silly.”
“Between you and me, you’re right. Don’t tell the others, though, it would lower my stature in the group.”
I smiled, “That’s all right. I think we can keep your cock between the two of us --- some other time.”
Marianne Gregory © 2024
Chapter 2
As I followed him into the garage, I was mentally kicking myself. As Susan and Dianna, I had made every effort to be that person. That’s what enabled me to pass. As Maxine, however, I had naturally become her, and that could be a problem.
Max Force was a wise-cracking, sexually active, ball of fire. When I wrote I found out early that I needed to wear a sanitary pad. If I hadn’t cum in my panties, the chapter was rewritten. As Susan or Dianna, I had never really felt the desire of male company. I had to temper my approach and make Maxine act more like Susan in company.
Upstairs I found that the other four were pretty much as I had expected. Erik was dressed as a typical third or fourth century warrior, all fur, and thongs. Kurt was now looking like a late nineteenth century American train driver, bib, and braces with a neckerchief.
The other two were, as I suspected, cross-dressers like me. Gerry was now Jenny, in a sundress and good make-up. The bobbed ponytail of the artist was now almost shoulder-length, and the overall look was good.
Brian was now Briana, or Aggie to everyone. She was obviously a follower of fashion, a la Max. Her very tight skirt, pixie boots over black tights and the silk blouse were all good quality. She was the only one that needed a wig, and it was almost an exact copy of the one I was wearing. She gave a little squeal and rushed over to hug me.
“Maxine Fawcett, here in the flesh! Can I have your autograph? I’ve printed each of your four book covers and went to get frames during the week. If you sign them, I’ll hang them in my home and think of you!”
Erik stood beside her and put one arm around her waist. “If she hangs ‘Body Politic’ by her bed it will help me think of a certain chapter in the book. I’m almost hardening just talking about it.” They both gave a little shudder and took deep breaths.
So, I signed the covers of ‘Body Politic’, ‘Body in the Tip’, ‘Body and Shine’, and ‘Body of Water’ for her. In the meantime, Jenny had gone over to Karl, and they sat snuggled on a two-seater. So, if they were a couple, and Brianna and Erik were a couple, it just left Brinton and me. The thought made me shudder and smile at the same time.
Brinton told the others that he would give me the tour and he took my arm and led me out of the room.
“What do you think, so far?”
“I think that you’re a bunch of nice, but crazy, people who enjoy your version of life. Just like normal folks.”
“Thank you for that, we try our best. What you see today is who we are most of the time. Now, this door is the entry to Jenny’s studio.”
He opened the only other door on that end of the floor to reveal a lovely room with big windows facing north, strewn with easels, small sculptures, props, and painting equipment. I looked out of the window to the part of the property I hadn’t seen before. The back of the place was half vegetable garden, half sculpture-park.
“The stone ones are Jenny’s; the metal ones are Kurt’s. The veggies are mine.”
I looked at him and he smiled.
“That’s my other secret. I spend time working as a chef for a catering company. It isn’t full time, so I do experiment in my own kitchen. I’ll have to cook your dinner, one evening, when we know each other better.”
“Is that the time I have you for entrée and you get me for dessert?”
He laughed, “That’s from ‘Body Politic,’ and leads to that scene that puts Aggie and Erik over the top.”
“From where I stand, Brinton, it’s starting to do something to the line of your jeans, right now.”
“That’s ‘Body and Shine’ where the two hairdressers are about to hit the bed. I think the next line was “We don’t have time for that now, let’s just kiss first and do something about that ungainly lump of yours when we get home.”
He looked at me, I looked at him and he put his arms around me as my own arms encircled his neck. The kiss was like something I must have only dreamed about while I wrote. Maxine was out and hunting for her prey. We played tongues while his hands fondled my arse, and my groin felt his hardness.
When we broke for air, I whispered, “I thought we were on a tour of the property, not a tour of my butt.”
I took a tissue and wiped his mouth, then checked my lipstick.
We left the studio and moved to the other end of this floor.
“Three offices, all with plenty of power outlets, internet, and satellite dish points. Erik uses one for his creative work. He is quite a clever little gnome. His main work is in organising ‘role-playing’ parties and re-enactment events. I use the middle one to do the books for the property and write my cookbooks. You may have seen ‘Baking with Brinton’ on the stands. The third would be yours.”
He opened the door so I could see the southern aspect again. I could see, as he said, plenty of desk space, cupboards, and good light. I started to think that I could do my outside work here and save the office in the home for my own writing.
We went down to the garage, and I could now see that the workshops were slightly different. One was set up for work on vehicles and the other was more a fabrication shop, no doubt where the metal creations began life.
“Jenny and Kurt have sold a fair few of their sculptures. They have an outlet in Sheffield that carries their work, as well as Jenny’s paintings. Those are sold as Jenny G works, while the sculptures are Gerry Grace and Kurt Wolff pieces.”
“I’m quite taken with the smaller pieces; I might have to visit the gallery and see if there’s anything I fancy.”
“I might be able to show you something you fancy, and you wouldn’t have to go to Sheffield.”
“Down, Big Boy, we’ve only just met.”
He took my hand and led me around to the back if the barn. There was an open-fronted shed which housed a ride-on mower, a mini-tractor with trailer, and a ten-seater mini-bus.
“We use this when we go out as a group. Kurt and I have the right licence.”
I strolled out into the garden part and felt bits of the sculptures. These were certainly risqué, not something I would expect in a gallery. As I looked around me, I saw a lot of cocks, many shiny with being fondled.
“These aren’t for sale. The only one that the gallery took attracted protests from the local congregation. I like the way you stroke that one, by the way. It gives me goosebumps just watching you.”
“Brinton, you’re a randy sod. But I like you. I’ve never considered myself to be homosexual but, for you, I may make an exception.”
“Goody, goody. Something for me to look forward to. Now, let’s go back to number six so you can have another look.”
We walked to my new home, arm in arm, and went in. I took more note of what was already there. It was furnished with the essentials and all I really needed to fetch was my clothes, my personal and bathroom items, my books, and computers. I had a change of clothes, back to Adam, in the car. I could go back to the house, and it wouldn’t take much for me to be out of there, for good.
As if he knew what I was thinking, Brinton came up behind me, put his arms around my waist and nibbled my ear, before whispering, “There’s a place in Nottingham where we can hire a small van.”
I could feel him against my butt, so turned around and whispered, “For that bright idea, you deserve a little reward.”
As we kissed, I opened his jeans and slid them down, followed by his undies, letting his manhood leap out. I knelt and looked up at him and then took his cock in my mouth, licking the underside as I sucked. It didn’t take long, and I was swallowing my first taste of cum. Zena had called me a cocksucker and now I knew the joy of giving a man a blowjob.
Afterwards he went into the bathroom to tidy up while I stayed kneeling, licking my teeth to savour the aftertaste. Maxine had taken over my whole being. The scene was one that I had written several times, in different ways. What I found odd was that I hadn’t hardened. I stood and checked my lipstick and was doing that when he returned, fully buttoned.
We went back up to the common room. The others must have guessed what had gone on as they all smiled as we entered.
“Got your chequebook, then?” said Erik.
“I’d rather do a transfer when I get on my computer. The whole object of looking for a place was to disappear, so I’d rather not leave a paper trail.”
“It will be for a quarter of a million, when you get to it. Brinton will tell you the account details. Welcome to the group, Maxine, I’m sure that Brinton has no objections to your joining us. Your avid readers are already planning your housewarming.”
“All I need to get is my personal items and computers. I can get most of my clothes today.”
“Here are the keys, then. You’ll find that the only time we lock up is when we’re all out. If you want to dash home for things, I’m sure Brinton will be happy to help.”
Ten minutes later my bag was in my new bedroom and the two of us were going south in his Range Rover. I directed him to the house, and it didn’t take long for me to pile a big bundle of clothes on the seat with two cases of underwear and toiletries behind the back seat. I took just the main computer and big screen. I locked the office door with two deadlocks that I hadn’t used before.
We were going up towards London and I saw Zena going by in the opposite direction. Passing through Nottingham, we stopped at the van-hire outlet and booked one for pick-up late Saturday with return Monday. Brinton was known so he put his name on the paperwork. Leaving there we went to a supermarket where I bought enough staples to feed me for a few days.
At the barn I carried everything in and hung my dresses, tops, and skirts away. The wigs went on stands and I carefully packed the other things in their proper places. All I had brought back, this time, was for my three female versions. If Brinton said that the second skin was normal, then who was I to go against the flow?
The computer was set up in the home office, plugged in and tested. When they had put the connections in, they hadn’t stinted. Both the landline and satellite speeds were well up to what I had been used to. I moved most of my Adam accounts into an offshore bank and then transferred the house money into an account that Brinton gave me.
After he left, I got serious with money. I had an offshore account which took the profits from the books, in the name of Maxine Fawcett. I had another in the name of Dianna Bender. My client in security had quietly organised a full set of paperwork for Dianna, including a bank account in an Irish bank. I had credit cards with her name on. I funnelled a fair amount of money into that account, seeing that I was likely to be Dianna for real.
While I was on-line, I emailed everyone on my list of clients. I told them that I had moved my base of operations, but their service will not be any different.
That all done, I stripped off and took a shower in my new bathroom, liberally using the deodorant that I had brought with me. I had no need to remain as Adam for a while and was going to luxuriate in constant femininity.
When I dressed, it was as Dianna Bender. I pottered around, worked on my client funds, and made sure everything was as it should be. Before it got dark, I backed the Toyota into the end spot in the garage. Kurt and Jenny came out of his home, looking as if they had been in a marathon. Kurt came over and closed the doors for the night while Jenny gave me a hug and welcomed me to the group. She then told me that we were all going down to the local pub for our evening meal and sing-along.
I went back to make ready for a night out. As I checked my make-up, I had a sudden thought. I was going out as Dianna, with a guy, in full public gaze. That was when I discovered that Dianna had been augmented by Maxine, to the point where I was looking forward to it. I wondered if Susan would be supercharged as well. That would be interesting.
There was a knock on my door, and I picked up a jacket and my bag and opened it to find a surprised Brinton.
“If you were expecting Maxine, then I must disappoint you. I’m Dianna Bender, slightly less tramp than that Maxie. Today was the first time that Maxine had been out in public, and I don’t think I could stand the sexual tension much more. I can go and change if you’re not happy with what you see.”
“No, no. You look beautiful whoever you are. I might think that I was two-timing Maxine, but I’ll try to overcome my natural gentlemanly manner and pretend you’re her.”
The minibus was warming up and I got in the seats behind him. The other couples were paired off, both girls looking like they were going to a party. All the guys were well dressed as well. I was glad that I had put a dress on, rather than Dianna’s usual leather jeans.
The pub wasn’t far away, and I suspected that they would walk there and back in the summer evenings. It was called ‘The Angel’ and was warm and welcoming. We had a good meal and a sing-along. Before the evening ended, Dianna was part of the community.
In the same period, Brinton had accepted that Maxie was not going to grace his days, just special occasions, maybe. After a snog in the dark outside, he was very happy with this version of me. Back at the barns I told him that it had been a long day, and he was whistling as he left me, breathless from one of the most passionate kisses imaginable. I had written about knee-trembling kisses, but this was the first time I had been on the end of one.
I was smiling as I stripped off, cleaned my face, and moisturised. I had a few nighties that I had bought but never worn, so chose one and slid it on. I had glued my breasts on this morning, and I didn’t feel the need to remove them just yet. I slid into my new bed and settled. For the life of me I couldn’t drop off.
I thought about the day, my new home, my first kiss and my first taste of cum. I found it difficult to get comfortable with the breasts and the nightie kept riding up. I suppose that both things will take some getting used to. I thought about Brinton and his cookbook and got a sudden idea for my next book. It would be called ‘Body and Sole’. I started to think about the obligatory sex scene. I couldn’t get today out of my mind and imagined a full-on romp on a kitchen bench.
Just after midnight I was laying there, on my back, with a tented nightie. I looked at the clock and an Abba song came into my mind. Humming “Gimme, Gimme, Gimme, a Man after Midnight” I went into the bathroom, sat on the toilet, and jerked off into a wad of toilet paper. After waiting for it to subside, I had a pee, washed my hands, and went back to bed to sleep like a baby.
Next morning was the first time I had woken as one of my ladies and I felt good. I had a shower and made sure that I wasn’t growing any unwanted hair. Dressed as Susan, I went down to the kitchen and brewed some coffee to go with the toast I usually started the day with. Looking around I took note of anything I would want to bring back with me. The cooking utensils and knives were basic so I would bring mine from the house.
As I was washing the plate and cup there was a knock on the door. I opened it to find Brinton with a plate of croissants. I invited him into the kitchen, and we shared the tasty treats with a cup of tea. He was very good and didn’t mention that an almost strange woman had opened the door. In the end, I took pity on him and told him that today I was dressed as Susan Slain because I wanted to do some work with computers and that Susan was the girl for that. I asked him about computer suppliers locally and he told me about one he used for all the other systems on the property.
“I want to buy a complete system for the other office. It will be a good desk-top, two lap-tops and a couple of printers, one big enough for A5 printing. I’ll bring the old ones from the house, but I want to minimise my footprint to stop my wife finding me. For the same reason I can’t use my own credit cards. Would you be a dear and let me transfer some money into your account and then you can pay for the items. If we go over, I’ll top you up when we get back.”
“With the chance of being topped up I’ll make sure you overspend. Of course, we can do that. I have a separate account that I use for office supplies that tracks my costs for tax time. Does Susan do any secretarial work? I have had a sudden vision of you sitting on my lap, taking dictation.”
“Susan, I think, will be more likely to be dictated to than Dianna, so we may have a deal. I’m in a quandary now. Letting Maxine loose on the world yesterday was possibly a stupid move. All four versions of me were entirely separate entities before that. Now, I’m sitting here, as Susan, the meekest girl in town, wondering what it would be like to kiss you with those croissant flakes on your lips.”
He stood and pulled me to my feet to give me a good morning kiss that was like tasting heaven. I melted into his arms and all I wanted to do was taste him again. We went up to my unmade bed and we kissed as he undid the zip on my dress and slid it off my shoulders. I rubbed his rising lump and then released his ready cock. This time there was the chance to take it slow and easy. It was a good fifteen minutes before my mouth was filled with home-made cream.
I lay in his arms and wondered just where all this was going to take me. I had to keep my wits about me, and it really wasn’t the time to fall in love. I was starting to love the sense of power that I had over this man with just my lips and tongue. I was waiting for him to revert to the dominant male that he had dressed as yesterday. I wasn’t sure if I was ready for any rough stuff, but, if you had asked me two days ago if I was likely to have swallowed cum, I would have laughed at you.
We eventually roused ourselves and I went to brush my teeth and take a mouthwash. Dressed again in ‘normal’ mode, we went into the office, and I powered up the computer. I transferred a decent amount into the account he told me and then we left the property in his Range Rover.
The computer shop was in Sheffield, far enough away to avoid being a pointer to my location. I bought all the things I wanted, along with all the latest versions of the software I normally used. We loaded up the car and then he took me out for lunch. I found it novel to be sitting in a good restaurant, being well looked after by the waiting staff, and being wined and dined by a man who was looking better to me with every passing hour.
He asked me about my life, and I laid it on the line about Zena and Clint. I told him that I would need to wear jeans on Sunday when we went south as I had my Ducati to ride home. That’s when he said that there was a Triumph under a cover in his side of the garages. He suggested that we go off for rides on nice days.
Back at the property we unpacked all my new equipment, and we powered it all up and tested the systems. All I needed was to add the data and I was good to go. As I had overspent, we went into my place, and I transferred the extra into his account. We then took off all our clothes and got back into my bed, me with my manhood now on display. This time he went down on me to give me my first blowjob from a man. I could hardly wait to return the favour. When we kissed, we could taste each other.
We dozed for a while until he whispered, “I don’t know about you, but I need a shower and then I want to go to Nottingham for dinner. There’s a place I’d like to take Dianna to. That’s if she wants to come with me.”
“You smooth lover, you. Of course, I’ll have to ask her.” I screwed up my eyes for a few seconds and then smiled, “She says that she would love to come with you tonight.”
He got dressed and left, kissing me as I lay there with a sheet pulled over me. I got out of bed, pulled all the sheets off, and put them into the laundry hamper. I found the linen cupboard to discover that there was just one spare set. I would need to get some more if I was going to soil them at the current rate.
I remade the bed and the showered. Dressing as Dianna with more of a touch of Maxine, I looked in the mirror and liked what I saw. To pass the time I looked at my internet activity, checking all four of the email accounts that I used. There was a few from my clients, so I answered them.
That evening we had a delightful dinner in a country pub overlooking a river. It was a happy couple that kissed in the moonlight before going back to his place where he made love to me as Dianna, his woman, for the first time. I had written about Maxie being held down by a man’s weight many times. It didn’t come close to the real thing.
Marianne Gregory ©) 2024
Chapter 3
Next morning, after breakfast, he loaned me a gown and slippers and I crossed the garden between number two and number six, carrying my clothes. I was sure that I would be seen by the others but, today, I didn’t care. I had done what Jenny and Aggie surely did. My mind was full of memories of last night, a perfect way to lose my virginity.
Today was Saturday and I intended to stock up the linen cupboard. After a shower I dressed in jeans, boots with a blouse and jacket. I went to the garage to find the door open and Kurt bending steel bar. I wished me “Good Morning” with a wink as I got into the Toyota.
I drove to a big linen store, set among the usual furniture and electrical stores, in an industrial area near Sheffield. There I bought a dozen sets of bed linen for a queen-size bed. I had looked in the other two rooms and both were queens but not made up. I also got some extra pillows, blankets, some towels, washers, and wipers. In the big electrical store, I got a small radio and a new phone which was registered to Dianna with the billing done by email.
I stopped at a café for a light lunch and then drove home. I packed everything away and was tidying up when there was a knock as the front door opened. Brinton was cheerful and gave me a loving kiss before I took him into Nottingham to pick up the van. Back at the property I backed the Toyota into the garage and the van was parked around the back. Brinton took me by the hand, and we went to his home.
There, we worked together to cook dinner. As I had foretold, I tasted him before the meal, and he had me for dessert. As we needed to be out early on Sunday, I dressed again and went to my own bed to sleep.
Sunday morning, I was in the biker gear, leather jeans, big boots, and a leather riding jacket. We took the van south to Leatherhead. He parked outside while I went in to make sure that Zena wasn’t there. I opened up the garage door and he backed up the drive. Together, we cleared my office, taking the filing cabinets and remaining computers, printers, screens, and supplies. When my comfortable chair was in the van, all that was left was the empty desk. Then, I cleared everything from my bedroom and bathroom, including all the Adam stuff. I then went from the top of the house to the bottom, picking up photos, favourite pieces of china, personal papers, my set of knives and pans, and anything else that took my fancy.
I locked up the house as he moved the van so I could close the garage door. I directed him to the lock-up and we added my toolbox to the load. With my helmet on I wheeled the Ducati into the road, made one last check that the lock-up was empty and closed it. I slid the key into an envelope that I had already addressed to the owner, with a covering letter, and sealed it. This I slid into the top of my jacket. I started the bike, warmed it up and waved to Brinton in the van. We then headed back north.
On the way I pulled up beside a post box and posted the letter. Then I stopped to top up the tank, paying cash. Both times it was easy to catch up with the van. We stopped north of London, at a greasy spoon, for a break. He had worn his own leather gear today, so we looked like a biker couple with our pie and chips. We both smiled a lot and chatted about the computer gear that now rested in the van. I told him that I would set it up in the office, but not connect it to the internet. What I needed was all of the data on the drives to add into the new system so I could do my outside work.
He asked me if I was any good with the investments, so I told him the usual percentage profits I made for myself, and my clients. He wanted me to take him on as a client and it was the Maxie in me that grinned, “Only if you keep making regular deposits.”
It took all afternoon for me to clear the van, putting things away as I did so. The home was looking more like a home by the time I had finished. The bike was put behind the Toyota and Brinton produced a cover for it. My toolbox was by the wall. The computer gear was up in the office, the filing cabinets against the wall with the drawers back in and the computers on a side desk. That evening, I quietly transferred all of the needed data, went on-line, and checked my client accounts. My own investments, with the client name of ‘Bandage Manufacturing,’ were doing nicely.
I had made myself a sandwich for tea and slept alone that night. On Monday morning I helped Kurt and Jenny load the van with paintings and sculptures and we drove to the gallery in Sheffield. We took the items in, and they introduced me to the owner as Maxine Fawcett. This led to me signing the four book covers that he had framed in his office.
In the afternoon we took the van back to the depot, me following Brinton in my car. When we had dropped it off and he had settled up, I told him that I wanted to buy him dinner. We were both in our leathers and he had a gleam in his eyes when he suggested a place he knew in Liverpool. It was, he said, somewhere that we could go to, dressed as we were, as long as he got to drive my car.
The place was certainly somewhere we fitted in. We ate on a mezzanine overlooking a dance floor. The lights were subdued and so were a lot of the dancers. Many of them were in collars, leads, and handcuffs while their partners were dressed like us, many greeting Brinton. As I was unrestrained, I was treated as an honoured guest and tried to emulate their haughty demeanour. As the evening moved on, we were offered a couple of slaves to dance with. My guy was unable to speak, having a ball-gag fitted, but he danced quite well. It was so utterly over the top I found it hard to keep a straight face.
When we left, I was giggling from the absurdity of it, but Brinton took it that I had enjoyed myself. He drove us home and his pent-up tension was released in his bed with me as the recipient of a thorough seeing-to. Only then did we kiss. I had now seen the other side of him, and I was a little further down the rope.
For the rest of the week, I worked on the investment business, making sure everybody stayed in the black. I had added Brinton to the system and was using his money to buy up good stocks. One of my contacts called me on my old mobile and gave me a good tip. I spent two hours researching the company he had spoken about and another two hours with my client accounts buying stock. By the next week we had doubled our money because of a buy-out offer. I then sold off all the stock I had bought and distributed the return among my client lists.
At the end of the week, I went into Nottingham and tried to empty a supermarket. I had been told that my housewarming was to be on Saturday evening so there was a lot to get. Back in the garage Kurt showed me a sack-truck I could use to wheel the food and drinks to my place. By the time everything had been stored, the big fridge looked like was supposed to, rather than the empty box it had been so far.
That evening we had a wonderful time. I did the full Maxine bit and we danced, ate, danced again and then paired off for some horizontal jogging. I had made up the beds in the other two rooms and there were a couple of hours of quiet, punctuated by screams of ecstasy.
We then drifted back into the lounge to pig out and drink some more, this time all naked. I was far enough gone that it didn’t register when Brinton started humping Aggie on the couch. Then Erik spread Jenny over the back of an easy chair, and I found myself, draped over the kitchen table, with Kurt embedded in me.
I woke up on Sunday morning with Erik in my bed, snoring through his beard. The beard was the only part of my time with him that I remembered, seeing that I had never kissed a guy with a beard before. I had slid quite a way further down.
I got out of bed and padded down to the kitchen where I found Brinton under the table, snoring worse than Erik. In the lounge Kurt was slumped in an easy chair. I was taking in the mess when I heard a giggle behind me, turning to see Jenny and Aggie, hand in hand. Aggie took my hand and whispered, “Time for some girly pleasure, Maxie.”
I allowed myself to be pulled up to one of the spare rooms where we mixed and matched for a couple of hours. We each took turns in a three-some spooning. After that I just wanted to sit in a bath of hot water, so we ran a bubble bath in the main bathroom and took turns to sit in it, with pairs facing each other while the third soaped the backs. Sometime during the night, I had lost my wig, as had Aggie, and I came to my senses seeing us in the mirror, kissing. The female image was totally absent. I suggested that it may be time to tidy up and get some lunch on the go.
The other three were still asleep as Jenny and Aggie left the house, naked, to get dressed. I went into my room and got dressed as Susan, finding the correct wig for her. Back in the lounge I started tidying up as the other two came back. Together, we made a good team, and the bottles were out in crates by the garage, the old food was in garbage bags in the big bin, and we then left my place so that the guys could wake up when they wanted to.
The three of us went into Jenny’s home and she put the kettle on. “Cracking party, Dianna, I haven’t has as much fun in ages. That was the best one yet, here at Tether’s End.”
Aggie nodded, “I knew that getting Maxie here would brighten the place up. My arse is a bit sore, though.”
I looked at the two of them, “Does this happen often? I’m not sure if I could take it more than once or twice a year. When I came here, I was a virgin. Last night, and this morning, I’ve had five cocks in me, a couple more than once, and I’ve put mine into places it had never known before. I think I swallowed enough cum to put on weight. So, you call this place Tether’s End? I think that I’ve been sliding towards the end of my tether since I got here.”
Aggie giggled. “Last night was the first time we had all been together. Before that it had been threesomes or foursomes with the brothers swapping. Just a few times, I admit. I don’t think I could do that again unless I was as drunk as I got last night. You certainly know how to throw a party, Suannine. Whoever you are at the moment? How the hell do you manage four personalities? I sometimes get mixed up with just two.”
” Before I came here it was easy,” I laughed. “Susan was meek, mild and a good secretary. Dianna was feisty and Maxine was totally over the top. Adam was just a husk with very little personality, almost the quintessential accountant. Thanks for the tea and thanks also for your friendship.”
I went back to my place. Brinton and Kurt hadn’t moved but Erik had gone. I stripped the sheets off and put them in the big washing machine, adding the ones from the week before. I got the load going and then went and stripped the other two beds, putting the sheets into the hamper. I pulled out three sets of new sheets and made up all three beds, finding my Max wig under the spare bed.
Back downstairs, the kitchen and lounge were both empty and I transferred the two sets of sheets to the drier and started washing the other two sets. I had a quiet tea and went to bed early for a good night of deep sleep, only broken with strange dreams where all five of my companions featured in various stages of nakedness.
As the days went by, I would write. I did a quick set of notes for ‘Body and Sole’ and saved them in my ‘working’ file, along with several others that I had ideas for. I had ‘Body Corporate’ about a series of deaths in a high-rise apartment block. Then there was ‘Body Double,’ about identical twins; ‘Body of Water,’ set in a marina, and ‘Body for Sale,’ about a gang that provided bodies to order. One that I was a few chapters in was ‘Bodyline’, about a series of murders in a cricket club. This had stalled because the characters were so damn boring! Another that I was working through was ‘Body Board,’ supposedly a story set in Newquay among the surfing set. My problem with that one was that the characters had become clichéd. How can you write a racy novel about a bunch of kids who already believed in easy sex?
I was about ten chapters in but made the decision to shelve it for a while and concentrate on other things. While I now had my own, real-life, experiences to draw from, I had found that Maxie had been diluted by the merging of the other two characters. I was living, full-time, as Dianna and was in a relationship. Before this it had all been in my imagination. I knew that there would be a period between spurts of creativity, as it had happened before, so didn’t let it worry me.
One Monday I took the Toyota into Nottingham and walked around the city before getting a couple of new outfits for Dianna, more feminine than she had worn before. I now made the moves to make my new life more permanent. I phoned a lawyer friend, and he was happy to assist me in selling the house and divorcing Zena. I told him that I would email him some photos to support my claims of infidelity. I made no claims on her property and offered her half the selling price, as well as my old Jaguar. Thinking about that, I took the Toyota to a dealer and got myself another Jaguar saloon registered to Dianna.
In all of the time since the housewarming I had been acting distantly towards Brinton. He had tried to get back into my good books and we had a serious discussion where I accused him of not having a loving bone in his body, just the one bone that he liked to stick into anything on legs. We finally agreed to be friends and neighbours but nothing else.
My relationship with the other girls was better. We started to get together for snacks in each other’s houses. We took my Jaguar into Sheffield, Nottingham and even up to Liverpool for shows and shopping trips together. I helped them improve their looks with group trips to salons. In fact, all three of us were good enough to be hit on fairly regularly.
The orgy had its effect on both of them as well. Over countless cups of tea and ‘gin-an-its’ they told me about how they had arrived at Tether’s End, friends both wanting to be someone other than how they were born. The brothers had been helpful and welcoming when they had encountered them at a stage show in Sheffield.
Both were made owners the homes they were in, based on letters of intent to pay. They had nowhere else to go. They told me that Kurt had been in the same position, having been a school friend of Erik. They confirmed something that I had suspected. Kurt was a little retarded but a brilliant artist. He had been able to pay for his home from the sales of his art works. Jenny told me that he had a fantastic train layout in his home, having knocked through the wall between the two spare bedrooms. She said that the two of them would play with it for hours.
Jenny had saved some of her earnings from her paintings and Aggie had been putting aside money from her earnings writing advertising. I introduced them to one of my clients, a real estate broker, surprising him when I turned up as Dianna, rather than Adam. He arranged a mortgage on their homes, based on the real value. With the money they could both pay off the debt to the brothers. They let me work with the residue so that I could build their wealth. Jenny talked Kurt into adding his savings to the funds. The only one not one of my clients was Erik.
All of this changed the dynamics at ‘Tether’s End’. The brothers now had no control over the rest of us and, although we would still go out together, they were just the original developers. They would have been richer had they sold the four properties for the real value but had tried to create a small fiefdom of their own, based on neediness on both sides.
It took a few months until Jenny and Kurt were back in their previous relationship. I had built their wealth to a point where Jenny and Aggie could go for S.R.S. without bankrupting themselves and the three of us had a serious discussion about it. Jenny had run the idea past Kurt, and he was all for it, so she was the first to go under the knife with us helping her recover.
Aggie had met a nice guy on one of our outings but hadn’t told him of her little detail. She was next in line, telling him that she had to have an operation to cure a womanly problem. This time it was Kurt, Jenny and I that helped her recover. Seeing the two of them looking radiant and showing actual bosoms forced me to rethink my own position.
Over the months, my relationship with Brinton had become a bit more than friendly. I came to realise that his previous alpha male persona was really just a smoke screen to cover up the fact that Erik was the bully of the family and Brinton was trying to hide his feelings of inadequacy.
In all of this time I continued to write. The books, however, were different, less sex but more of a story. It was odd, but the change was taken positively by the readers, and I had finished ‘Bodyline’ and ‘Body Board’ in that year.
Erik had become more morose and unsociable and when he asked if anyone wanted to buy his place, I said that I would. I could pay him the market value with my proceeds of my old home. He went off to live with a group of fellow Neanderthals in a big, shared house. I believe that he has been a regular lately, on recreation TV shows, when they want short, hairy, gnomes to demonstrate the before part of evolution.
I still wrote as Maxine Fawcett, but she hardly ever made an appearance. I had become Dianna full-time, and no-one was surprised when I announced that I would be going for my own operation soon. Brinton took me out for dinner at a very flash restaurant and asked me to marry him when I was home again, and when the divorce had been finalised. The others helped me recover and I was totally in love with my new body. I had reached the end of my particular tether and had taken the third option. I had started it swinging and let go, to land in a different world.
It was one where I had a husband that now truly loved me as his woman. It was one where we now had his, and Erik’s, home to put on the market. Jenny moved in with Kurt and they sold her place. Aggie sold hers and went off to live with her new husband.
None of us referred to the development as ‘Tether’s End’ ever again. The wonderful thing was that all four of the new owners were families, with children, and the safe isolation allowed them to run around the garden, shouting and laughing. That was my new world, and my new wonder.
We did, however, clear the sculpture park of all the cocks, most were broken up but the one I had stroked all that time ago now graced our lounge. Jenny told me that it was based on Brinton after she had seen him naked. I sometimes got him to stand next to it while I pretended to decide which one I wanted that night.
Marianne Gregory © 2024