G Is for Gemma

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Stories with transgender themes which I hope will be of interest to those who like women, or would like to be a woman. Which includes me!
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It all really started on a Monday. One bright sunny Monday, early summer, an unusually warm day for June in England. And it really was stupid thing to do. Sun-bathing in a bikini in my back garden, that is. I'd only bought it the previous Saturday and it really wasn't so hot as to justify lying there soaking up the sun. But it just seemed a good idea at the time. Until.

Until I was shaken by the noise behind me. I turned to look. It was the guy from next door, David. He'd pushed the side door from the garage open and was standing there looking at me. Shit!

"Well what do we have here. A tranny sissy if I'm not mistaken."

"I ..."

I just couldn't speak. I sat up and glimpsed my reflection in the large window beside me. At least I could make out the basic outline, bare shoulders and the gold bra of my bikini top. Long curly blonde hair. Red lipstick.

"You thought you were safe did you, you pansy? Didn't realise did you? I was up a ladder fixing the bedroom window catch next door. Got a clear view. You looked good at first from up there, I thought you had a tart in for the afternoon. Then I realised 'it's Geoffrey.' Geoffrey the pansy that is."

"I thought ....."

That was all I could mutter.

"Well Geoffrey, very interesting. Wait till I tell the guys at the rugby club I've got a tranny poofter living next door. Just you wait."

"You mustn't, you can't. Please.....

At last some element of coherence but not much.

"Please, don't tell anybody..."

"Well I might not. If .... No, you wait and see."

With which he was off, he turned and closed the door behind him. I sat. Thinking. Fuck! Caught out, I'd been so careful for so long. I'd been dressing up in girly clothes, enjoying the feel and the look of feminine apparel and make-up and shoes and all that for maybe two years and I'd never ever come close to being caught out. I'd been SO careful. And now this one mistake, going out into the back garden. It had seemed so private, the top part of the lawn wasn't overlooked by any of the neighbour's windows at all. But this guy David - on a ladder - I'd never even thought of that. Well, you wouldn't would you?

I went back into the flat and stripped and washed off my make-up and changed. I packed away my dress-up clothes, I wouldn't be needing them for a while. If he did tell his mates? Not that I knew any of them but the word would get around. You didn't hear about guys who dress up and ponce around in the garden in a bikini very often. The phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Hello. David here, from next door."

Shit!

He was clearly ringing to taunt me, to rub it in maybe. I didn't know him all that well, I'd only been in the flat for a month or two. But I didn't really like him too much, David that is. He seemed far too much one of the boys, always showing off in his red sports car. OK he was a good Rugby player but he knew it, he always seemed rather arrogant, showing off with his mates - and with a succession of girls he brought home. Not exactly regularly but I'd rarely seen him with the same one twice. They were probably attracted by the macho image and the car.

"I've just been thinking. There's no reason to tell anyone what I saw earlier."

Great! Maybe he did have a good side to him.

"But you have to do one or two things for me."

One or two things? What was he getting at?

"OK, since you want to be a sissy. Be round at my back door at eight o'clock tonight, just after it gets dark. And dressed in something decent. Skirt and blouse or something like that. Since you want to be a girl you can do some girly things round here. I've a load of washing to do, you can get that sorted tonight. Then we'll see. Unless you do want me to tell everybody....?"

He had me cold and he knew it. I had no choice.

I rang off and got my girly stuff out again. And at one minute to eight, I daren't be late, I was ringing his doorbell. Thank goodness it was getting dark by then. Anyway, I was dressed. Dressed up, that is. Blue stripy blouse over my black bra and panties, short black skirt, tights and heels. And I'd put on my make-up and clip earrings and my blonde wig - I really did feel a bit of a fool. I'd never ever been 'out' as a woman before and this wasn't what I'd had in mind.

"OK," said David, inspecting me as soon as he'd let me in and closed the door. "You'll do. I'm not expecting any visitors tonight so I'm going to watch the football. You can do the washing for me. OK?"

I had no choice. He was a typically untidy bachelor, kitchen rather grubby, clothes all over the bedroom floor. Obviously he'd decided that I could be his slave, his domestic help, his maid or whatever - he'd get his house looked after for free. So I did the washing and some of the clearing up in the kitchen. And it didn't stop at that. Every week maybe twice a week, for nearly two months, he'd ring me up in the evening. I'd have to get dressed up and go round and do chores, ironing, cleaning, cooking, washing, even get him beers from the fridge and so on.

I've never been the totally subservient kind of tranny but I have to admit that at first it wasn't too bad. Not exactly fun but bearable. For a few weeks that is, but as he became more demanding it got more difficult. I was spending too much time dealing with David's problems and not enough doing my own stuff. My own social life such as it was vanished. Yet one Friday evening, as I was finishing doing his washing-up and dusting the living room, coincidence started to intervene.

"OK sissy. I want you round here again tomorrow night. My suit needs pressing and that white shirt you've just washed will need ironing. I need to look my best on Sunday, it's the Rugby club party and I need to pull. So be here again, eight o'clock."

It was his next statement which, surprisingly, opened up everything for me.

"And you look a mess tonight, tart yourself up a bit. I don't like looking at a messy tart doing my chores."

The nerve of the guy, even though I knew he was right. I'd not been so careful, much of the fun had gone out of dressing. David seemed so unappreciative of my efforts and now he was criticising my dress sense and my make-up and so on. OK, I'd let it slip my standards of femininity but what did he expect? What he did expect I didn't know but, changing back a few minutes later back in my little flat, I began to formulate some sort of plan. I'd got my notice of eviction, I'd known it was coming anyway. But my landlord was a good guy, he'd said if I could be out in a few days he'd waive the final month's rent. I had it ready for him, suddenly and unexpectedly I had some spare cash. I determined to use it wisely.

That Saturday afternoon I didn't spend long in the 'Transform' store, probably less than an hour. But I could have stayed longer there, such was the array of items of interest to any transvestite. Clothes, wigs, make-up, lots and lots of stuff. OK they had more general-purpose sex stuff as well but that didn't interest me. Helen, the assistant in there, really was kindness personified, explaining what it was all about.

I thought about how some of the stuff there could help me in my primary aim, to present myself to the world in general and to David in particular on that occasion as a more realistic, and attractive, woman. Maybe she was just trying to make a sale, perhaps she was working on commission, I don't know. If so she was good at her job. I left there with a bag full of goodies and a certainty that at some time in the future I would be back.

Another bus ride later I was back in my flat planning the evening. With Helen's advice in mind and with my own aim in view I took even more time and more care than ever before in preparing myself for what lie ahead.

I headed straight for the bath to wash away all my male smells. Getting out of the bath I wrapped myself in a thin negligee and then began the process of becoming 'Gemma'. I shaved my face incredibly closely, hot water, new razor etc. Twice. Then I went to the spare bedroom where I had all my 'Gemma' items spread out on the bed and hung in the wardrobe.

I tucked my cock and balls between my legs before pulling up my favourite lacy black panties. I used my waist nipper that reduced me right down to a 24 inch waist. The padded bra gave me a bust quite a few women would be pleased with. At each stage I rather vainly admired myself in the mirror, checking I look just right.

Next came the stockings, black and sheer, so flattering.

I wanted to wear a short crop top that didn't quite reach the waist band of my skirt, but revealed a sexy stripe of midriff flesh. My favourite outfit is a sparkly silver crop top, an indecently short, tight, black skirt, black stockings - if I want to look like a slut, which I did - and 5 inch black stilettos. I stepped into my skirt and put on my heels, then it was time for my make-up. I sat at the dressing table and spent nearly two hours getting the look right. Tarty but classy is how I would describe it. Black eye-liner, mascara, bright red lips, all part of the look. I have two wigs, one blonde, one black, but it just had to be the blonde one again. I put on long clear stick-on fake finger nails and spent some time carefully coating them with deep red nail polish.

Cosmetics completed, I added some jewellery- two bracelets, an anklet, a necklace and ear-rings, of course. I love big hoop dangly ear-rings. A quick spray of perfume and I was ready for the evening.

At seven o'clock I was ready and, to settle myself down and to try to be prepare for whatever the evening had in store, I paused in my preparations and sat in the kitchen having my own evening meal. I was nervous, SO nervous but I knew I had to do something lest David's continued domination of me totally wreck my life

So I sat there eating my steak pie. Sat at my own little kitchen table, trying hard to cope with the novelty of my long red stuck-on nails. And the jewellery, the six rings on my fingers and the choker round my neck and the big gold pendant clip-on earrings. And the unaccustomed garb, the short silver top, pulled tight across my chest to show off my boobs. Yes, my boobs. I'd had the breast-forms for a while but hadn't worn them properly fitted, properly stuck on, for a while. So I'd bought some fresh adhesive at 'Transform' that afternoon and fitted them ready for the evening.

Those and the tight black skirt, the black stockings and high heels which again I'd had for a while but not worn to visit next door. The same long blondish curly wig as previously, but this time enhanced by much more striking make-up, deep purple eye-shadow and a dark finely applied lipstick. The whole effect was so much more extreme than anything I'd tried before. It must have looked so incongruous, such a figure sitting alone with a meat pie and a glass of red wine but I needed time to settle.

At five to eight I was ready. At one minute to eight, handbag slung over my shoulder, I was at David's back door ringing the bell. As usual, so as not to give neighbours time to spot me there waiting, he was prompt in opening the door.

He looked at me and grinned.

"Well!"

I'd obviously made something of an impression. But I was half-expecting the mockery and taunting which followed.

"Look at the little tranny sissy we have here, then. Don't you look a right faggot, Geoffrey. Better come in. Don't want the Evans's over the road to see you like that do we?"

"Good evening Sir," I replied with excessive deference as I went in. He always liked me to say 'Sir', like a proper maid, when I was working for him. "I hope this is all right, Sir, you did say you wanted me to take more care with my appearance."

"Too right, you little tranny slut. I'm so glad you did, you really do look a right tart tonight. Now then sissy, you've got things to do. The suit is in the kitchen and I want my shirts you washed yesterday ironed. And careful with my best white dress shirt, I want it looking immaculate for tomorrow night. So get on with it and no funny business, I'm off down the club to watch the football. They've just got the wide-screen TV in there, I'll be back about eleven and I expect you to be finished by then."

And with those words he grabbed his jacket and keys and was off. I heard the engine of his sports car gunning as he backed out and moved off up the road. Fuck! Not at all what I had wanted. But would it spoil everything I had hoped to do? Maybe not, I had to be adaptable, to achieve my goals even in this new situation. I'd hoped to spend the whole evening softening him up but that was now not possible.

Back about eleven? So he wasn't stopping 'til closing time, he probably wanted to make sure I'd done things right. Ok so I'd give him no reason to complain. I quickly did what he would have expected me to do, got his clothing properly prepared and then switched on his TV myself to watch the match. Well, why not? Lots of girls like football too!!

And by eleven I had plan B ready. He was just a few minutes late and slightly drunk. If he'd been caught by the cops driving in that state it would really have ruined my tactics. As he came in I was sweetness and light.

"Good evening Sir, shall I take your coat?"

"I thought I told you to get out when you'd finished," he replied rather rudely. "All done?"

"Oh yes Sir. Can I get you another drink? Was it a good game?"

"Yeah, get me a beer, slut. And yeah it was, four-one. FOUR-ONE!" he almost shouted punching the air.

"I thought you might like to see the news, Sir, they're bound to show the goals again."

"Oh sure, come on, you gotta see this, that third goal was so magic. MAA-GIIC!" he called out again in exultation at his team's win.

I switched on the set again and went to get his drink. As I did so I dared to get myself a small gin at the same time as David's beer. I gave it to him and sat on the edge of the sofa while he himself sprawled across it with his can, watching the match which had just come on and waiting for the goals.

"Shit did you see that, that was never a goal, that wasn't was it?"

He leered across at me. Yes, he really did leer, I'm sure he was looking at my thighs as I sat there on the chair arm with my legs crossed.

"It wasn't, was it? Tell me sissy?" He was shouting. I began to be a little unsure of my strategy, this wasn't going as well as I had hoped.

"Er, no Sir, I'm sure it wasn't."

"And who said you could get yourself a drink!!" he shouted, beginning to stand up and move across towards me. "Oh YES did you see that!!"

Thankfully the screen was grabbing his attention. I shuffled my bum to show a little more thigh. He was definitely looking now, my heart began to pump just a little faster. The TV producer, whoever had done the highlights editing must have got a little bored with this match, the rest of the goals came in quick succession. David getting more and more excited even though he'd already seen the whole game on the big TV. As the final whistle went just after the last goal David punched the air in delight, still shouting out, 'FOUR - ONE, FOUR - ONE!!! Yes yes yes!!!'

OK, so City and I had between us got him happy, the combination of the game and the drink and my legs had in some way worked.

"More drinks, David?"

I didn't give him time to reply, I was there in seconds with another can for him and another drink for me. And this time - no 'Sir', just the question. I needed to change the balance of power just a little. I moved up quite close to him as he stood and took the can from my hand, facing him so that this time it was my cleavage I was flaunting right in front of his eyes. The drink was already getting to me, I could so easily have blown it by going too fast.

"You like?"

Now that was definitely risky, I'd tried to soften my voice all evening to give it some sort of feminine tone but this time I'd lowered it just a little to try to sound just a little sexy.

"Sit down, I'll turn off the TV now".

With which I gently pushed David down back onto the sofa and sat down next to him and reached across to press the remote. For the very first time - our bodies were in contact.

"Do you think I have nice breasts?" I asked innocently, well, as innocently as I could.

"Yeah sure, for a tranny sissy you sure do have good-looking boobs!"

He giggled at his own rather feeble taunting.

David looked closely at me, I was sitting right next to him, he began to look uneasy. I was getting there! He was a bit drunk and rather confused, what he knew about the real me was getting mixed up in his fuddled mind with what he saw. I moved quickly now, again crossing my legs to show loads of thigh. I was determined. The only way out was to get the upper hand. I had to move very quickly, I noticed his hand moving down to adjust his trousers. He was getting aroused! By a transvestite!

"Would you like to feel my breasts?" I asked huskily. "Undo my blouse, go on. Have a good look, have a feel of them."

David could hardly refuse, he was still confused but he responded like any other red-blooded male faced by a pair of bulging tits only inches from his face. I looked down nervously as I felt him undoing my buttons and sliding a hand in under the cup of my bra. But his breathing became faster and I could see the swelling visibly grow inside his trousers. Now for it! I again just touched the bulge, then stroked it slightly. I heard him moan.

"You're horny aren't you? Can I help? Please?"

I didn't wait for a reply, just pulled down the zipper and slid my hand in, coming out again quickly with David's cock cradled in my fingers.

" Hey, what are you doing, you fucking pervert, you .... Ohhhh!"

"Wow David, that looks so good. Do you want me to help you to wank? Or – give you a blow-job?"

He really was in a quandary as I leaned over him, moving very quickly in order not to give him time to really consider what was happening. But the moment my lips touched his cock-head I knew I had won. His breathing slowed as he moaned quietly again, I could feel his left hand squeeze my right tit a little harder and - more than that - his right hand grip my nylon-covered upper thigh.

"Come on David, honey. I want to feel you cum - in my mouth!"

He was trapped and I suspect if he'd really thought about it he'd have agreed with that. But he wasn't thinking, he was just moaning more loudly now as I slid my smooth red lips down over his throbbing penis. I wanted to say something else, to encourage him, to try to direct his thoughts in the direction I needed, to make sure he was not going to suddenly realise what was going on.

But I couldn't. Couldn't say a word. My mouth was full of growing hot cock, my nose was filled with the strong odour - of sweat. Of lust. Of some sort of passion. As he began to buck my mouth more and more, as his moaning and groaning got louder, as the smell got stronger and his hands groped my boobs and my thigh more firmly - it happened.

He ejaculated. Hot creamy juices suddenly filled my waiting mouth. He wasn't moaning now, he was crying out. In delight! He may have been totally 100% straight up to that evening and so was I, in deed if not in thought, suddenly neither of us was. For maybe twenty seconds that hot thick cock was jetting cum deep into my throat, my lover was moaning and groaning loudly as his body writhed and wriggled. He was having such fun. And I loved it. I swallowed, I swallowed hard. Every drop.

He subsided. I stood up. I stood over him. I looked down, looked at his now-shrivelled cock. And I felt sorry for him in a way. Then I remembered what he'd been doing to me all those weeks and I hardened.

"OK David. It's over. Don't you dare try to make fun of me anymore. And don't you dare think of telling anyone about my dressing-up habits. I'm sure all your friends at the Rugby club would be delighted to hear how you got sucked off by a transvestite. And how you enjoyed it - I really think you did. After all, I didn't exactly have to twist your arm, did I?"