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Reality TV

By: JJ Neal



I didn't recognize the number, but I certainly recognized the voice and understood the message, 5:30, Jackson, Bride.

My Master isn't given to long conversations with me, or any explanations. My role is to make it happen.

I met Master Fred in a sissy chat room and he swept me off my high-heels.

By way of background my sissy name is Jamie Jo. I'm 44-years old, 5' 9" in my stocking feet and weigh 135 pounds. I've been transvesting since I was young and in the past four years I've spent some serious time and serious money becoming the best girl I can be.

My wife of twenty years will have nothing to do with Jamie and has had a bloody fit with every one of my body modifications. She is in total denial and if it were not for a fortunate pre-nuptial and my real estate holdings she would probably leave me. Our life together is not unpleasant and most of Barbara's friends think I'm an effeminate, heterosexual male. We are invited to all the best parties and travel routinely. We have no children and she wants for nothing money can buy. As for her distain for Jamie, I have a plan.

Barb was thrilled when I suggested we take an extended trip to Arizona and stay at a health spa. She is tall and slender, but at the time I was twenty-five pounds heavier and she was pleasantly surprised that I wanted to do something about it. My hidden agenda included flattening my tummy, starting a hormone regiment, electrolysis and a healthy diet.

I had always used cunnilingus as foreplay, but during this trip I began bringing her to multiple orgasms then going to sleep without fucking her. A couple of times I begged her to let me eat her in public and she acquiesced and came like wildcat. I'm sure she realized the change, I'm not sure she cared. 

When we returned home I was slender, toned and hairless as a new baby save for the hair on my head and a tuft above my clitty stick. I hadn't cut my hair in nearly eight weeks and I had ever been to a salon, but I had the name of a gal's so I called her.

She offered to come to me, but I wanted to be with the other women so I made an appointment for my first trip to the beauty parlor. I was there all day. I had a massage and a facial. My pedicure ended with French tips. My manicure culminated in a very pale pink. I had my hair colored strawberry blond and cut in a cute bob that could be combed into a male or unisex style. In a final frivolity I had my eyebrows plucked into a high arch.

Barbara didn't like my bob and began screaming. Before that night, I didn't know that one could make a complete sentence out of four letter words. Like an errant daughter I sat on the floor before her as she slapped me and picked at my hair. She said she would never go out with me again and was unmoved by my suggestion my hair could be combed back in a more masculine look. 

I began begging her to let me make it up to her. Evan as she abused me I grabbed her around her hips and kissed her pubis through her skirt. I continued to plead and completely disgusted with me or herself or both she lifted her skirt and pulled off her panties. I rolled onto my back and invited her to sit on my face. Her skirt covered my face in a dark warm cocoon and I began to work on her pussy. A well-manicured thumb slipped between her velvety cunt lips. I sucked and tongued her clitty. Pent up anger overwhelmed her and she shrieked through her orgasm. Neighbors would have thought I was killing her if they had been close enough to hear.

She slumped forward and I was to realize later ripped her blouse open and began clawing at her nipples. I eased my thumb out of her and began to lick her with the flat of my tongue. The slurping noise alone would have put a bitch in heat. Barb wanted more. She was grinding her pussy into my mouth so hard I was afraid I'd hurt her, but still she humped. I went back to work on her engorged clitty. At just the right point I pushed a single finger into her ass and bingo over the top she went. She shook and gyrated and yelled at the top of her lungs. As I started to lick her she pushed up on her knees, pulled up her dress and grabbed her cunt as if it were about to explode.

She ran to our bedroom, slammed the door and didn't return for dinner. There was something fascinating about the fact that my new bob, which she didn't like, was wet with her body fluids. I slept on the couch, but early the next morning I slipped into bed and between her legs. She awoke to my kissing a nibbling. She moaned and stretched and ached making herself more available. Having had a time to plan, I helped with her pleasure by pushing a fat rubber dildo into her as I loved on her clitty. She moaned to a deep climax, pulled me up her glistening body, kissed my wet mouth and whispered I could wear my hair any way I wanted.

Thanks to my mother and braces I had beautiful teeth. A local plastic surgeon said he could feminize my face and take ten years off my look. I was in the hospital two days later and fully recovered in six weeks.

During the recovery I continued my hormones and had a minor surgical procedure done. Along the edge of my ball sack where it joins my leg I had ten small sterling silver d-rings sewn under the skin, five to a side. That is to say the flat of the D was under the skin the round of the D protruded. 

I also used this period to have my body pierced. My ears got three holes each my tongue a large ball. My breasts had not grown but they were sensitive and I was sure they were about to blossom. I had a sterling silver barbells with doorknockers put in each nipple and I bought some ornate diamond encrusted, sterling silver nipple shields. If not beautiful my breasts were impressive. From my navel dangled a small sterling silver plaque. If you could get close enough to read it, diamond chips spelled out -- Cum Slut.

I wasn't sure where Barbara was with all this, I rarely saw her, but I was reasonably sure my new tongue ball would square it with her as soon as I could use it on her.

As I approached complete recovery from all these procedures I decided to go back to the spa in Arizona by myself for a couple of weeks. My body needed some tender loving care and I wanted some time to think.

When I returned home one of my new tattoos said it all. It was on the back of my left shoulder -- a small female figure with large colorful butterfly wings and a tiny cock. The small of my back just above the bikini sported ornate Latin script that roughly translated to -- Cum Slut.

I was ready. I was more than ready. I had been out several times as a classy woman. Men were very attentive. I had converted one of our spare rooms at the house into Jamie's room. Barbara's reaction was predictable, but by now she craved the tongue ball. Besides my plan for her was under way. 

As I shopped I worked on my feminine moves and my voice. One afternoon I was in the same dressing room with one of Barb's friends and she didn't recognize me. Barb was mortified, but I was sure I could pass full time as a woman.

I'd been to the chat room every day and I knew what I wanted -- Master Fred. He lived close by, was about my age and his cock was mouthwatering. Did I mention I've never had a real cock? Seems hard to believe a girl would go to as much trouble and expense as I have without sampling the goods. Let's say I'm a girl with faith.

I asked him to meet me for coffee and he agreed with some stipulations. I was to douche thoroughly and he was very specific. I've always enjoyed a good enema, but I was to learn some new tricks under Master Fred. I was to wear no panties and black thigh highs, a black leather skirt and black single banded strappy sandals. 

This is a good time to explain the small rings between my legs. I can push my balls up into my body cavity; pull my cock back between my legs and lace it in place by putting a ribbon through the rings much like one would lace up a shoe. It not only keeps the cock comfortable in place the bow at the top is precious. Master Fred knew all about this little feature.

Up top I was to wear a lace bra and a sheer blouse. He wanted red nails, red lipstick and full makeup. The look was a bit sluttish, but I was giddy as a schoolgirl when I arrived. The click of my heels made my clitty ooze and you would have thought the hips had been swinging for years. 

Master Fred greeted me warmly and kissed me on the mouth. He order coffee and we chatted amiable for a few minutes. As calmly as he might have pulled out a cigar, he reached in his shirt pocket, pulled out a super tampon and laid it on the table. He ordered more coffee and the young waiter was obviously fascinated with the white cylinder. Master explained I was to go to the MENS room, wait until at least one man entered, remove my bra and put the tampon in me. I was not to go in a stall and if anyone asked I was to explain I was a sissy and beg to suck the man's cock. 

This was certainly not how I'd hoped to suck my first cock, but I was committed to this man no matter what. I picked up my purse and the tampon. My heels sounded like clanging symbols as I crossed the room. I was sure every eye in the shop was on my little white gift and me. 

A pretty young guy with gold-rimmed glasses followed me into the bathroom. Slowly but deliberately I removed my blouse and unsnapped my front closure bra. My young friend was watching in the mirror, but said nothing. My nipple shields sparkled as I put my blouse back on and unzipped my skirt to tuck it in. In for a penny, in for a pound I decided to unwrap the tampon, wet it with my lips, pull down my skirt and insert the cylinder. By the time my young friend could get his mind around what was happening I was tucking my blouse in. As a second guy entered the room, I kissed college boy on the mouth, picked up my purse and left -- virgin mouth in tact. 

When I returned Master Fred stood and I sat. It was then I discovered he had another toy -- a white leather collar and leash. He told me that I should put on the collar and attach the leash as soon as I was ready to go. My first date was certainly going to be a memorable one.

As Master Fred led me out of the coffee shop he said. "Sissy, this could have been a lot worse and will be if you want to be my slave. Humiliation will be a routine part of your life."

"Yes, Sir." I said.

"What the fuck does yes Sir mean? Does it mean you would drop to your knees and suck my cock right hear right now?"

"Yes, Sir." I said.

"Don't yes Sir me, do it." Master said.

Without hesitation I dropped to my knees on the sidewalk and began to unzip his pants.

"That's good enough." Master said pulling me to my feet. "You pass the test, but I don't want to land us in jail." He handed me an envelope. "Meet me at this address Friday and wear a wedding dress. You'll be gone all weekend. If you don't show up, never contact me again. If you do show up expect some pain." With that he unclipped the leash and walked away.

My mind whirled as I drove home. I tried to get to Jamie's room before she saw me, but no suck luck.

"Have you been out dressed like that?" Barbara asked in a calm normal tone. 

"Yes Dear."

"You look rather good, but don't you think you could at least wear a bra?"

"I did, but my Master had me remove it." I said as nonchalantly as if I were talking about a new pair of pants.

"Your Master." She mocked. "You're one sick fuck and I'm going to find a way out of this mess."

I poured myself a slug of Scotch downed it and went to my room. I had never been so hot to trot. I pulled my skirt up, unlaced my cock and began to masturbate. Visions of a wedding dress fueled my passion and soon I was squirting into my left hand. The load went straight to my mouth and I curled up on my bed to enjoy a flavor I'd learned to like better than chocolate.

The next morning I decided that because if the short notice I'd rent a wedding dress. I found a nearby shop in the yellow pages. I decided a bra, panties and a shirtdress would make trying on clothes easy and that I need heels. Thus attired with minimal makeup I headed out. 

They had three dresses close to my size and I tried them all. The first was by far the best. It was a white satin strapless A-line with white embroidery and a split front overskirt. It had an embroidered headband and a two-tier, elbow length veil. I felt like a virgin princess heart aflutter at the thought for her wedding.

I'd been in the dressing room with my sales lady most of the morning dressed only in my panties and bra. As she took the measurements to altar the dress her only comment was that I might need some padding up top. She agreed to have the garment ready the next day.

My next stop was Bridal Necessities. I started with a white satin and lace torso-lette. I added white stockings with seams and satin bows, a pair of white satin wedding gloves and white satin pumps with three-inch heels.

My last purchase was a sheer white baby doll set. It must seem obvious I didn't hear the pain part of my upcoming wedding. I was in love and expecting a night of tender passion.

I began Friday morning soaking in the tub with a mug of coffee. Twin two-quart enema bags were depositing their contents through a double bardex into my body. It is a long and sometimes painful process, but after I process two or three double bags I'm clean. I've found that pushing a washcloth inside me after I'm finished encourages my intestines to drain so I headed to the beauty parlor with one inside me. 

I got a trim, pedicure, manicure and facial. The French tips were beautiful especially on my long slender feet. My new husband would be impressed. Back home I removed the washcloth and got back in the tub this time to soak in scented oil and take a final enemas.

I put my trousseau in the car and dressed for the short trip to the cabin Master Fred had reserved. I wore a short denim skirt, a short peasant style top and wedge heeled sandals. I stopped by the den to tell Barbara I'd be gone for the weekend.

She looked up from her desk then rose, walked over to where I was standing and touched my naval ring. "I want one of those." She said as she squinted in an effort to read it. "What does it say?" 

"Cum slut." I said with a smile.

She dropped it like it was on fire and returned to her desk. Over her shoulder she said. "You may find that's not all it is cracked up to be." 

Chapter Two

The cabin was large, warm and rustic. It was a beautiful setting for a wedding and a honeymoon. I had at least two hours so poured myself a drink and sat on the porch looking at a quiet lake. I could still quit and go home. 

Inside I slipped into my torso-lette, attached my hose and slipped on my heels. I'd brought a light blue silk dressing gown. The dressing area didn't have the best lighting, but I made do. I had become adept at curling and lining my lashes and doing my eyeliner. I'll never know how real girls approach these necessities, but for me each twirl of a brush or pencil stroke is magic. I could do makeup for a living.

I laced my cock in place with a white silk ribbon then slipped into light blue t-back panties I had borrowed from Barbara. They qualified as old, borrowed and blue. I slipped a lace garter up my right leg and put a quarter in my shoe.

A mist of perfume and it was time for my crenolins and my gown. I hoped my lover would arrange for flowers and pictures. My necklace consisted of delicate clusters of diamond-encrusted hearts in a fine web of platinum wire. Matching earrings dangled from my lower holes and brushed my shoulders. My bob was perfect with the headband. The mirrors were really too small to capture my beauty.

I was prancing around like a teenager when I heard the car door slam and reality come crashing in to my idyllic surroundings. To my surprise it was a middle-aged couple. They introduced themselves and said they would perform the service. They set up a small altar facing the fireplace and set out plastic flowers.

"Master Fred told you I was married I assume." I said.

"Don't worry your little head missy. This is a moral commitment not a legal one." The male said. "It's binding on both parties, but only by mutual consent."

"It's binding on the sissy as long as I say." Master Fred said from out of nowhere. "Let's get it done." 

Turning to me Master Fred said. "Kneel down at the altar."

I was too stunned to say anything. This wasn't going according to plan, but I gathered my skirts and knelt before the preacher or whatever he was.

Master Fred turned to the female. "Get the bridegroom ready."

She dropped to her knees, released his cock and sucked him erect. Master positioned his meat by my face and the service began. It was a farce -- I was marrying a cock. The service resembled a normal one except I was to love honor and obey a cock. 

The quick service ended and the male said. "You may suck your husband."

I didn't even get a ring. I lifted my vale and put Master's cock in my mouth. My first blowjob was a miserable disappointment that lasted about two seconds.

His cock popped out of my mouth as he turned away from the altar. He was putting it in his pants when he looked at me and said. "Go to the back bedroom and take off that fancy dress. I'll call you when I want you."

I went to the bedroom and I really wanted to cry. I didn't have a single picture in my beautiful dress and now it was coming off. I removed my vale and unzipped my dress. In the quite room I equated the sound of the zipped to a tear in my heart. I sat on the bed in my glamorous underwear unable to find a positive thought.

I was startled when the woman entered the room and handed me a collar. I didn't need someone to draw me a picture. I removed my necklace and put the collar on; she attached a leash and dragged me from the room. 

The den had been rearranged. Across the room from where we entered, Master sat at a large round table. It was covered in a press linen cloth. The centerpiece was a three-tier wedding cake. Crystal flutes of champagne surrounded the cake. A large overstuffed leather couch was to my left facing the fireplace. Between the couch and the fireplace was a devise I recognized to be a bondage sawhorse.

"To the bride." Master Fred said smiling at me as he lifted a flute of wine. "Would you like some cake and champagne?"

"Yes, Master. Please." I offered in a compliant tone.

He looked at the woman and said. "Cuff her."

She quickly produced handcuffs, pulled my hands behind my back and restrained me. At Master's instruction she step to the table to cut me some cake. When she turned she was holding a silver two-compartment dog bowl. One side was filled with cake the other with champagne. She knelt, placed the container at Master's feet, and then joined the male on the couch.

"I suggest you enjoy your reception. It may be a while before you eat again." Master Fred said.

Eating from a dog bowl is a lot more difficult than it looks particularly with ones hands behind her back, but I was engrossed with the task. We the explosion occurred my first thought was that I had been shot. I jerked straight up to discover that Master had hit the table with a long thin cane.

"Oh." Master Fred said. "Has our Bride finished her treats?"

"No, Sir." I said returning to my bowl. 

The second and third clamps of thunder didn't pull me away from the bowl, but the combination of a cane and a sawhorse brought terror to my mind. 

Above me I heard Master Fred address the couple. "Get to fucking and if you don't fill her up I'll use this cane on you."

I was running out of food, but I didn't want to finish.

"Go back and fix your makeup." Master Fred said to me as he unlocked my cuffs. "But be quick I want you to watch these rabbits."

As instructed I washed my face, powered my nose and applied fresh lip rouge. I had dripped some stuff down my chest so I cleaned my torso-lette as best I could then ran back and knelt by the couple. The male's dick was not as big as Master Fred's but he was pumping for all he was worth. I'd never seen the lips of a pussy move with and against a hard cock. It was beautiful and erotic. The pussy flushed with color and filled the air with a titillating odor. The male stiffened and I assumed dumped a load. Suffering from exquisite post-climax pain he tried to hold her still. 


Reality TV



Hot with lust she shouted. "Fuck me damn it."

Seconds later he did just that. I was amazed. On my best day, once spent it took me thirty minutes to get hard again. This guy was hard as a crowbar and this time I could see her clitty rolling up and down his shaft. As she approached a crescendo she wrapped her legs around him, her ass bouncing off the couch. She groaned in pleasure, but hung with the male till he could deliver his second load.

Master pulled on my leash and told me to lie on my back. Addressing the female he said. "Give the Sissy desert." 

Predictably she lowered her pussy onto my mouth, and I thought it really was a treat. The mixture oozing between us was delicious. I don't think anyone had used a tongue ball on her before. If this was to be a punishment for either of us it missed the mark.

Impatient with our apparent pleasure Master Fred barked. "Get her jacket."

He handed me a napkin and a red lipstick with unspoken instruction. My jacket turned out to be a straight jacket. I slipped it on and she laced up the back then led me to the sawhorse. I was on my tummy facing the couch as she began to secure my limbs to the legs of the sawhorse. When she finished I was as unable to move as Venus De Milo. 

Master Fred held my head up and said. "For your honeymoon I'm going to give you every girls desire, but first you need some discipline. Without discipline you might become ungrateful for what I'm doing for you and I would have to punish you. There is a big difference between discipline and punishment."

He put an expandable penis gag in my mouth, pumped it up then walked behind me. I heard the swooshing sound, but the initial pain was so intense it didn't register for a couple of heartbeats then it bit me like a red-hot poker. My mind screamed, but the gag prevented any sound. Before I could breathe the second blow landed. He delivered three more before I passed out.

When I came around Master offered me cool drink through a straw. I think it was a Margarita. The pain had subsided to a tolerable level. "Had I intended to punish I would have actually hurt you, but I didn't want to mark that pretty little ass."

He unzipped his pants, pulled out his cock, touched it to my lips and said. "How do you like your husband?"

"I want him. Please."

He slowly feed me and I sucked with abandon. I ran my tongue ball up and down the underside of his shaft and he grew. Years of practice with a dildo made the next part easy. He pushed well down my throat, pulled out so I could get a breath then pushed deep again. He knew how to use me and I was in ecstasy. The taste, the warmth, the texture and the smell were everything my lifelong fantasy had predicted, but the cum was beyond belief. He let me milk him. I thought I'd die if he removed his cock from my mouth, but I didn't.

I was aware he was puttering around behind me, but I laid my head down and shut my eyes. How many times would he fuck my face?

"How many times do you want to be fucked?" Master Fred asked.

"500 Master." I quipped.

The pressure on my pussy was unexpected. A whirring sound accompanied a shaft burrowing inside me. Then it retracted and entered again. I was coupled to a fuck machine. The lights went out and the room glittered from the gas logs in the fireplace.

"The machine is set for 500 cycles. Sleep well." Master Fred said as he left the room. 

Chapter Three

Something was brushing my check when I came to the next morning. It was my Master's lips. Once the fucking machine had stopped I had fallen asleep on the sawhorse. There was a dried puddle of tears by my head, a puddle of piss on the floor and my entire body hurt.

"Wake up sleepy head." Master Fred said. "Let me get you untied. You can get naked and head for the hot tub."

After he untied me I tried to stand, but couldn't support myself. I sat straddling the sawhorse while Master undid the straight jacket. He helped me get undressed and supported me while I walked to the bathroom. On the pot I unlaced my cock and started rubbing body parts. The thought of a hot tub seemed like heaven so I struggled out to the deck.

Master helped me into the tub then handed me a Dilaudid and a Bull-Shot. "The pain will be gone soon."

I couldn't help thinking someone had stolen my Master and sent me a new one, but I guess he knew I couldn't take any more abuse right now. He left and I settled back in the tub. A few minutes later Master reappeared with a breakfast tray -- Coffee, scrambled eggs, English muffins, marmalade and bacon. He was naked with that long beauty dangling between his legs. He joined me in the tub. I started out nibbling, but soon my hunger drove me to devour my food. Master sat quietly and watched. 

"Would you like another cocktail?" Master asked.

"Yes, Master. Thank you."

"Jamie, when we are alone, be respectful, but you don't have to call me Master. Around other call me Master, grovel and never speak without being spoken to. If you embarrass me I'll hurt you."

"Yes, Sir."

"We'll be alone for the remained of the weekend and I want us to enjoy our honeymoon." He sealed the bargain with a kiss as he got up to get our drinks.

Drugs and love had my head spinning. After our third drunk Master helped me out of the tub, wrapped me in a huge towel and carried me to his bedroom. He held me a kissed me then said. "I want you to have a pleasant nap. When you awake we'll take the boat out." He kissed me again and left.

Mid-afternoon I awoke ready to go. I went to the bathroom, fixed my makeup including ruby red lips and slipped into my baby-doll nighty. Master was in the den reading when I paddled in. He looked at me and said. "Fuck the boat."

He picked me up and carried me back to the bedroom. His kisses weren't rough, but persistent and probing. He was a powerful male and I his delicate mate. I kissed his pects and nibbled his nipples on my way down his exquisite body. My shields were still in place and Master was fascinated with them. If there was a cock race I won. Master's heavy balls and hairy sack smelled almost as good as they tasted. I delicately slipped one ball at a time in my mouth. Meanwhile, Master kissed the row of rings along my scrotum. We lay in 69 position each the object of the others pleasure. My ejaculate was minimal, Master gushed my mouth full. We scrambled into one another's arms and shared a long deep kiss. I fell asleep once again my head on his chest. 

When I stirred again Master was on top of me and between my legs kissing my neck. I grabbed his neck, pulled us together and said. "I love you."

He pushed me away as if he were burnt, looked at me then smiled. "You really are a girl aren't you?"

I batted my eyelashes and said. "Yes, Sir."

He pushed my legs back and slowly thrust himself inside me. My eyes fluttered shut as I considered the fact that I was no longer a virgin. Full of my husband and humping to please I smiled and said again. "I love you." He was hot inside me and the rhythm was frantic. "Fuck me, Sir. Fuck me please."

Sated, my Master rolled over on his back. I ran to the bathroom, got a warm wet washcloth and cleaned his genitals. As I kissed his cock and balls I realized something was running down my leg. Making sure I got Masters attention I ran a finger up my leg and collected a dollop of cream. I popped it in my mouth and said. "Waste not -- want not."

Master pulled me into his arms and said. "I'm going to have a hard time with you, no pun intended. If you can dress like a classy woman, I'll buy you a forty-dollar steak." I didn't say I word instead I ran to the back bedroom to get ready.

I had my enema rig and the first priority was to clean my pussy. On my tummy on the floor I took the first two quarts. I found an ironing board and iron. After it was set up I sat on the toilet. I took another two quarts and held it while I ironed my skirt and jacket. After another trip to the potty I took one last two-quart douche then ran a bubble bath with scented oil. Clean inside, with a super tampon in me I settled into the tub to soak and do my hair.

I removed the nipple shields, but reinserted the studs. I had a beige, front closure, under wire bra and a matching thong. I laced my cock in place with a beige ribbon and put on my underwear, beige pantyhose and a beige lace trimmed slip. My shoes were beige satin with square toes and rectangular 4" heels. 

I wore a silk robe while I fixed my hair and did my makeup. I wore a white shell that buttoned snuggly around my neck and a beige raw silk suit with an A-line skirt.

One last look in the mirror reveled a knockout. Above my bangs I wore a small diamond tiara. I had one-carat diamond studs in each of my lower ear holes. My jacket was carefully tailored, single breasted and long sleeved. I wore a diamond tennis bracelet and an opal dinner ring on my right hand. I wore diamond wedding bands and a Cartier watch on my left hand. If Master wanted class he would get class. I put a mink wrap around my shoulders and glided out to see him.

Master was on the porch smoking a cigar and he looked damn fine. He wore a navy suit with a muted strip a white shirt and a blood red tie. As I walked up he said. "Wow."

"Thank you, Sir." I said demurely.

He had my leash in his hand, but laid it down and said. "I don't think we'll need this tonight." He then presented me a beautiful corsage and helped me put it on. There was a limo in the driveway and we were off. The restaurant was elegant and we had a secluded table. Master ordered for us and I never took my eyes off him. The meal was a work of art and it took us two-hours to consume it.

Back home we undressed and cuddled in front of the fire with large snifters of Brandy. Master said. "This has been the most enjoyable day I've spent in a long time." 

"Thank you, Sir."

"Jamie, you're a slave. I'll continue to discipline you and let others use you for sex. Don't expect to much from this relationship."

"Yes, Sir." I said. 

"For the moment I think I have enough energy left for some doggie style."

I jumped up, wiggled my bare ass and ran to his room. That night I received a good old-fashioned fuck and slept in the arms of the man I loved.

The next morning over breakfast, Master informed me he had to go back to the city, but that I could leave when I was ready. He said I'd here from him in a couple of days and then in an apparent effort to reinforce the resolve of the night before he pulled me over his knees and gave me an open-hand spanking. He stood, dumping me in the floor and left without another word. 

I returned home without any answers. I didn't even know the questions.

Chapter Four

For all I could tell Barbara had been sitting in the living room waiting for me all weekend. "How was your weekend?" She said with a grin then added. "Cum slut."

"It was interesting. How was yours?"

"Sit down sweetie. Would you like a drink?" Barbara asked.

"I'll get it. Can I freshen yours?"

"A splash of Scotch."

I made myself a large Scotch and soda then walked over and added a splash of Scotch to Barbara's glass. I sat the bottle on the end table and took a chair. My smooth bare legs crossed in her direction.

"What do you call yourself when you are sucking dicks?" Barbara asked.

It would have been fun to banter, but I was curious where this was going so I answered. "Jamie."

"Well, Jamie. I want a divorce and a cash settlement."

"Well, Barbara. You can have a divorce, but the pre-nup stands."

"The way I see things they've changed. You can't expect me to honor a marriage where you're running around in panties sucking cocks." Barbara said.

"I don't know, to me that sounds a lot like you, Darling."

"You pig. You know I haven't cheated on you." Barbara said.

"Can't say I do know that, but you can run around if you want." 

"At least you aren't a hypocrite. I've met another man or should I say I've met a man. I want you to give me some money and my freedom." Barbara said.

"Honey, let me make it clear. You can fuck anyone anytime. You can have a divorce, but no money."

"I'll drag your name through the mud. I'll expose you to all our friends." Barbara said.

"If you haven't noticed, I don't give a shit, but I'll make you a deal. What's this guy's name?"

"Why do you care?" Barbara said.

"Natural curiosity. Is it a secret?"

"His name is John Carter." Barbara said.

"I'll put an extra $3,000.00 a month in your household account and John can live in the apartment over the garage. You can tell your friends whatever you wish."

"What's the catch?" Barbara asked.

"Barb, I've wanted to be a girl since I was 10. I'm really happy and I want you to be happy. I can't take hormones and satisfy my role as your husband. I'd be really glad if you had a lover. I want you to be happy."

Barb took a long sip of her drink, stood, walked over and sat in my lap. "You look really cute."

I kissed her and said. "Not as cute as you. Maybe you can work me into your bedroom every once in a while."

"Maybe." Barbara said. "For now I have to run."

"Give John my best."

Chapter Five

When I got up Wednesday morning I was hungry, but not for breakfast. Over the past few months I'd become comfortable being a transvestite, a cuckold and a cum slut, but the surprise was how much I enjoyed enemas. I peed, ran a bath and got my hinny toys out.

Hormones and electrolysis have made hair a non-problem, but I love shaving my legs so I shaved soaked and played with my nice clean pussy. When I was clean and dry, I put a tampon in me, laced my clitty stick and applied lotion. 

I wanted to go to the Northwood Mall. Admittedly I'm forty plus and even if I look thirty-ish I shouldn't be running around dressed like a teenage, but I couldn't or didn't go to the mall dressed as a girl when I was a teen so I selected a hot pink bra and thong set. My tan low-rider mini skirt didn't cover my thong. My tan spaghetti strap top didn't hide my bra straps, my tat or my naval ring. I wore open-toe, hot pink thong sandals with 4" wedge heels. My hot pink shoulder purse was shaped like a heart. 

I didn't sneak out of my room, but I caught Barbara all over John.

"Hey, you guys need to get a room." I said.

I startled them, but Barb wasn't embarrassed. She introduced me as her sissy husband and said. "What, would you like to see how a real man fucks a woman?"

I licked my hot pink lips, moaned and said. "I can't wait, but I have to run so tootles for the moment."

I enjoyed my trip to the mall and I picked up a few things, but it occurred to me it would be more fun with some other girls. Master called while I was there and told me to be at a specific hotel Friday at 2:00. He said I wouldn't need clothes or makeup, but reminded me that it was important to be clean and that the room would be available any time after 10:00.

I was there a little before noon. It was a big suite with a separate living room and a luxurious tub. When Master's crew arrived I was clean and soft. Wine had served as lunch and to lower my anxiety, but fear quickly returned. 

They were going to color and restyle my hair. I didn't want any of that, but they were doing something I'd never seen or heard of. They had a black nylon strap that looked like and may have been a seat belt. It was carefully finished in a semi-circle on one end, but the other end was dozens of long strands of nylon.

My hair was now coal black and it was being pulled straight back and up as if it would end in a bun, but they were carefully weaving my hair and the nylon strands. When they finished my hair was pulled tight to the top of my head ending in a nylon strap that hung to the middle of my back. It was bizarre and erotic. 

My facial makeup was very pale, almost white. My brows were black and well defined. My eyeliner and eye shadow were dark gray. My checks were a bright rose color and purposely overdone. My lips were the wettest red I'd ever seem. My ears were unadorned and in the words of Robert Palmer my look was -- Simply Irresistible.

My corset was an over the bust style in white satin. It was all-steel construction with front hooks and rear Laces. When they finished tugging, my waist was at 29" and my baby breasts bulged over its top. They fitted a red satin cummerbund around my waist. My outfit didn't include panties. Instead, when they laced up my clitty they toped it off with a 6" diameter white satin bow. My hose were black with seams up the back held up by fancy white lace garters. My shoes were black patient leather, pointed toe, spike heeled pumps with white satin bows across the toes. The whole outfit was first class erotica, but the coup de grace was a man's style black tailcoat. White gloves and a corsage completed my look. 

After one last look top to bottom, they handed me a card with an address on it and started to pack their equipment. They told me to use the service entrance. I packed all my stuff wondering if they expected me to go out in public dressed as I was. The answer was obvious -- yes.

I rode the elevator to the lobby and walked proudly out the front door and across the street to where I was parked. I will admit that my heart was pounding and that I was grateful for the limited security my car offered. I hadn't been two miles when I pulled over and let the top down. What the hell I guess I'm an exhibitionist too. 

The mansion and grounds were impressive; I drove around to the rear and was greeted by what seemed to me to be the butch dyke from hell. "You're late. Come with me."

I've always thought a woman really enjoys disciplining another woman. I guess that goes double for a dyke and a transvestite. She took me into the kitchen. A hook shaped devise lay on a stainless steel table. The hook was shaped like a giant fishhook without the barb and a seat belt clasp was attached to the other end. My pussy puckered at the sight.

"Bend over the table." Madame Dyke commanded.

Not too genially she shoved the appliance inside me. After some fiddling around by the bitch, I became aware off something in my pussy. It turned out a bladder was expanding inside me. When she couldn't pump any more air with her small hand pump, she detached it and told me to stand. She slid my ponytail (seatbelt) into the clasp on the hook. As she took up the slack my head was pulled back at an acute angle. I wasn't sure what would happen first -- my pussy hole would ripe, I'd lose a large clump of hair or my neck would break.

After twenty minutes of redundant instruction she said. "If you fuck up I'll beat that skinny ass till you bleed."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Get in line." Madame Dyke commanded. 

The line included four other girls. We were the same height. We were built the same and our outfits were the same. Two of the girls had carried trays of champagne in tall flutes. Two of the girls carried trays of bite size hor'dourves. My tray included a small pillow and a highly polished wooden case.

We walked single file into a large ballroom and dispersed. There were fifteen or twenty couples. All the men were in tuxedos. All the women were in vinyl dresses that zipped up the front. The colors were all different and each outfit included matching shoes, collars and leashes. 

I walked up to the closes couple. She was in lavender. "My I offer you or your lady oral sex, Sir."

The man turned to the woman and said. "Unzip your dress."

I dropped my pillow on the ground in front of Lavender. She wore a lavender bra and no panties. Her pussy was bald and fat. 

Looking at the male I asked. "Would she like a vibrator, Sir?"

"Yes."

I put my tray on the ground and opened the case. It contained a gleaming gold vibrator and a row of condoms. All eyes were on us as I used my mouth to put a condom on the vibrator. The garish angle of my head made it appeared I was trying to swallow the phallic symbol whole.




Reality TV



I carefully separated the lips of her pussy and pushed the intruder inside her. She tensed when I flipped it on and again when I started kissing her. Sliding the toy inside her with her clitty trapped between the vibrator and my tongue ball made my job a bag of candy. The male stroked my hair with obvious curiosity as I worked. When Lavender climaxed she steadied herself by placing her hands on my head. I slowly removed the vibrator, took the condom off, placed the used condom on the tray and returned the vibrator to the case. I thoroughly cleaned her tasty twat, thanked the male and stood. My next customer was to my right. She was Navy blue. 

So it went through forest green, gold, white and yellow. When I got to baby blue it was different. She was wearing panties. She wiggled out of them and a cute little dick dropped down. Her male wanted me to use the vibrator and when I was finished snowball the seed with her.

During the evening, I found three more tranny girls. I was allowed to swallow a dab of cum from the other two. None of the men took advantage of my mouth. My Master sat in a chair by the fireplace smoking a cigar and drinking brandy. He didn't seem to pay any attention to my performance. 

When I had serviced every girl in the room I walked over to where Master and another man were seated. "May I offer either of you gentlemen oral sex?"

Master said. "We're okay. You may return to the kitchen."

I did just that and was greeted by the dyke.

She released my hair and told me to bend over the same steel table. The pressure inside me subsided and she told me to go to the bathroom and remove the devise. Once I got it out and cleaned up I was fascinated with the design. The collapsed bladder slipped easily inside the hollow hook. I washed my puss and reported back to the dyke. She dismissed me and I got the flock out of there.

I was home about 10:00 and sure of what I wanted it would just be a case of getting luck. This time I was as quiet as possible as I got to the master bedroom. Barbara's beautiful legs were wrapped around John and she was humping for all she was worth. His long fat cock glistened as it moved relentlessly inside her. The look on her face and her body language confirmed I'd made a great selection when I chose John as her lover.

Her eyes fluttered then popped open when she saw me. She said. "Get the fuck out of here."

John never missed a beat. He kissed her cheek and said. "Let the sissy stay." 

She went back to work. I thought her moans might be for my benefit, but she tensed then he tensed and peace fell across the bed.

John kissed her wantonly then said. "I want the sissy to clean you up." 

She frowned, thought a minute then said. "Have him start with you. I want to watch."

John looked in my direction and said. "Sissy, my cock needs cleaning."

I was on the job like a duck on a June bug. He sat on the side of the bed and I licked him clean as Barbara watch. He finally noticed my seat belt and started fiddling with it as I worked on his dick. When I put him in my mouth and started to tongue ball his pole, he pulled me off with the strap and said. "You better get Barbara clean while she's still full."

It was time to fulfill my destiny -- cuckold. Dressed as a girl, in the presence of my wife's lover I laid down face up on her bed. Barbara knew her role. She straddled my face and lowered her cream filled cunt onto my mouth. It was ecstasy for both of us. She controlled my complete humiliation. I was finally the subservient little girl I had always wanted to be. The goop was warm and tasty. John kissed her and messaged her breasts as I brought her to two more orgasms. When she climbed off my mouth she was spent, but more than that she had her revenge. I knew she would have many more opportunities and I was also anxious to hook her into my life of deviate sex.

The next morning provided the next opportunity. John roughly awakened me from a pleasant rest. He winked and said. "Get up Sissy. Your mistress wants you."

The game was on and John knew it. Dressed in only a long pink flannel nightgown I hustled down the hall to her room, fell to my knees by her bed and said. "Hi Barb."

She slapped my across the face and said." That's Mistress or Ma'am, do you understand?" 

"Yes, Mistress." I said sheepishly. 

"You will refer to my lovers as Sir and I better hear a lot of gratitude from you."

"Yes, Mistress. Thank you." I said as I rubbed my cheek.

"Get John ready to fuck me." Barbara said.

"Yes, Mistress."

John was standing right behind me. I rotated on my knees and found myself facing his long flaccid cock. I kissed it then put him in my mouth. A cock just can't resist a warm wet place and it sure can't resist a tongue ball. Before I could bat my eyes he was hard and ready.

"Okay." Barbara said. "Don't get carried away. I need a little lathering up myself."

She threw the cover back to reveal her beautiful body. Her nipples had pebbled, her breast heaved and her beautiful brown bush glimmered.

"Yes, Mistress." I said as I dove between her legs.

She was quickly moist. She lifted her head and said. "You put him in me."

I wasn't sure, she might have thought she was shaming me, but this was just the way I had fantasized this relationship. I had John's cock in my right hand as I separated Barbara's pedals with my left and helped him enter her. That was all the help they needed. I sat on the bed and watched. When a man and a woman fuck for fun it's a treat to watch. I moved into position and started kissing John's anus. Once I had his rhythm down I stuck my tongue inside him and rode with him a few strokes. Barbara didn't come, John did. 

"Get over here, Sissy." Barbara said with some urgency.

I got her positioned above my mouth. A glob of cream was oozing out of her hot pink inner lips. I sucked it up and kissed her thighs as the next glob emerged and I lapped it up. She wanted more. "Eat me damn it."

I loved her clitty over the top then sucked her hole clean before helping her to a second thundering peak. Her body and hair were wet there was her musk in the air. I had done a good job. As she rolled off of me I said. "Thank you, Mistress."

Temporarily she forgot her dominant role and said. "No. I thank you." 

Over time I'm sure she will become more callus about my services. She did reach out for John. I left them to their post-coitual bliss. 

Chapter Six

Master called later that day to give me the address of a beauty salon that could remove the strap without cutting my hair so that afternoon I went to the salon and they carefully removed the belt. They had obviously done it before. When they finished my hair was shorter, but the same soft bob I'd grown to like. It was black and I definitely liked my previous color, but I'd have to live with black for the moment.

Jenny and Amanda were two of the girls I'd met at the party. I guess sucking their dicks qualified as meeting them. I'd left a number with the Dyke and she gave it to Jenny. We had agreed to meet for lunch Tuesday.

Jenny had inherited money and lived full time as a woman she was 28 and not interested in SRS. She became interested in S&M and was a regular toy for the man she had attended the party with, but she maintained her our house and saw other men and women. She was gregarious and well educated. 

Amanda was a homosexual who had been sissified by her Master. She was 32 and like Jenny had no plans for sexual reassignment surgery. She lived with her Master, but had a good deal of freedom. She had a rough background including drug abuse, but seemed happy in her current situation.

We found we were all on large doses of hormones with predictable side effects. Jenny and Amanda had had breast augmentation. Over salads and wine we discussed our diets, men, shoes, men, cars, men and did I mention men. Our next stop was -- The Mall. We all had more money than good sense and that translated into some serious shopping. I tried on everything from shoes to hats and every time there was more than one of us in a fitting room something kinky happened. My first girls day out was a smashing success.

Happy hour found us at Bennie's an upscale preppie bar and probably not where we should have been, but we were a big hit particularly in the far stall in the men's room. We drank free booze played lousy pool and got pinched. I swear some guy pinched my little toe. I ended up sleeping with Jenny that night. She was soft and smelled good. We did oral and it was tender. Something flipped in my brain that night. 

When Master called the next morning I was disappointed, but he had a way of centering me. He wanted me out at the same lake cabin Friday night dressed as a cheerleader. My mind left the softness of the night before and landed square in the gutter. "Yes, Master."

Quick, if I say cheerleader what do you say? Cowboy Cheerleaders, right. Somehow I sensed this was not what Master was looking for and ditto for the local college cheerleaders. I called Central High School. They special ordered their uniforms for an outfit in Dallas, TX. I called the company in Dallas and a few dollars later my outfit was on the way and would be in my hands the next morning.

The midriff top was sleeveless with a round neck. The skirt had three knife pleats and hung from my natural waist. The color was forest green with yellow accent stripes. The word "INDIANS" was emblazoned in yellow letters across the front of the top. I found a lacy yellow bra with matching thong and a ribbon for my clitty about the same color. White knee socks were an obvious choice, but the shoes took a while. My final selection was white patient leather Mary Jane high heels. Hardly the choice for cartwheels, but a precious, precocious look nonetheless.

I couldn't catch Jenny Thursday and somehow managed not to end up between Barbara's legs so suddenly it was Friday. I decided to dress before I drove to the lake. I was painstaking with my douche and applied minimal makeup with pink nails, lips and eye shadow. I arrived at the cabin at 5:00 as expected. Master was in a chair by the fireplace. I dropped to my knees in front of him.

"Do you know any cheers?" Master asked.

"No, Sir."

"You're very cute." Master said.

"Thank you, Sir."

"I have some things for you in the back bedroom. Go back and get them." Master said.

I bounced up and skipped to the bedroom. The door was hard to open and as I pushed it suddenly opened and I spilled onto the floor. The door slammed shut and four burley men surrounded me. I tried to get up, but one of them pushed my down.

"What the fuck?"

"I've got something for that filthy mouth." One of them said as he unzipped his pants.

I screamed for help and rolled away from him only to have number two and three grab my arms. Number four grabbed my right leg and I kicked him with my left. He slapped me hard across the face. Number one kicked me in the ribs and I howled in pain.

I relaxed and they did too for a moment. I pulled free long enough to plant a chunky heel in number one's shin. 

"You fucking whore." Number one said as he punched me in the stomach.

I squirmed and pulled trying to free myself. Number two got too close and I bit his ear. He backhanded me and I saw stars. Now I had three of them mad. I still thought I was a man, but my little girl body was no match for these brutes. Number three sat on my chest and pinned my arms. One and four each pulled one leg forward exposing my pussy. Number two stripped out of his pants, tore my thong and began to brutally rape me. 

I screamed for help again, but to no avail. This asshole wasn't trying to come he was doing every thing he could to hurt me. Like a tag team he tapped number one and they swapped places. The assault continued and I was growing weak. Meanwhile, number three had ripped my top and bra off and was mauling my tender little pierced breasts. His breath was foul as he grunted threats and obstinacies at me. As he pulled his dick out I was sure I would bite it no matter what the consequences. He held my nose and began to piss. My mouth opened and he filled it. 

Numbers one, two and four pounded away without mercy. I'd lost all awareness about time and I was sure I was bleeding. They released me only to flip me over so number three could take his turn. After he was finished, they pulled me to my knees and said they would quit if I gave everyone a first class blowjob.

Hoping to get this over, I begged them to let me suck their cocks and put a genuine effort into the task. I fingered their asses and tongue balled their dicks. Mercifully, the ordeal came to an end. They left me huddled in the middle of the floor. I laid there for quite a while not sure I could stand, but I was getting cold and I smelled like shit (pardon the pun). I struggled to my feet hoping to make it to the bathroom. 

As I pulled the door open, the sons-of-bitches were on me again this time with cat-o-nines. I just couldn't get my mind around this new assault. It didn't feel like it, but I had to be dreaming. I tried to protect my face with my hands and I drew up into the fetal position. They stopped long enough to pull my torn top off. My skirt was in tact so they ripped it off abrading my waist in the process. They used a stiletto knife to cut the ribbon between my legs wounding my clitty stick in the process. Once they removed my socks and shoes, two of them spread my arms and legs. I was face down on the floor and the other two started beating me again.

The hands had fallen off the clock for me. I tried to count the blows, but lost focus at three. Even in my condition I was aware they weren't hitting me as hard as they could, but the cats were taking bite after bite out of my pampered skin.

The thrashing stopped so the two floggers could fuck my mouth and pussy. I couldn't help them, but I offered no resistance and they eventually came. The teams traded places and the flogging began again only this time they had squirt bottles and they were misting something on my body. It felt like alcohol on an open wound only the wound was my entire body. I screamed and cried and pulled with all my might. Then it hit me -- it was acid, they were spraying me with acid and I would be scared for life. 

"Please, God. Please help me." I blubber with all the strength I could muster.

The answer was quick. The cats rested on the floor while my antagonists fucked my again. I blacked out. Some time later I awoke and I was alone again and terrified. I found the strength to stand and find a mirror. I was red and covered in welts, but not acid burned. The cut on my clitty stick was minor so I just wrapped it in gauze. The cabin was empty. I locked every door and window. I grabbed a bottle of Scotch and went to the bathroom. I locked the door and used a folding chair to secure it. 

I started with a cool shower it felt good so I slowly increased the temperature. When I got to warm I tried some soap. That was okay too. I got out and started running hot water in the tub with every oil and lotion I could find. I found some pain pills and took them. In my warm wet cocoon I soaked and drank. As the physical pain dulled, my emotional pain overwhelmed me and I began to cry. I had to heat the tub up twice as I cried and drank until God-knows-what o'clock.

I found a shotgun. I couldn't find any shells, but I slept clutching the shotgun to my bosom. The ringing phone woke me the next morning, but I was afraid to answer it. I was very hungry and I had no clothes. I cut a hole in one of the sheets and made a poncho. An extension cord served as a belt. I had my socks and shoes. After breakfast I went home.

Chapter Seven

It was two days before Master contacted me. At that time he had asked me a question by E-mail -- What did you learn?

After several hours of consideration I wrote -- Fear.

He replied -- Precisely. Dress for an elegant dinner. I'll pick you up at 7:00.

Yes, Master. Was my reply, I guess my answer implied absolution even though I was sure Master didn't seek my forgiveness.

As if on autopilot I headed straight to the beauty parlor. My skin, face and hair were a mess. Ditto for my nails. I had bruises, scrapes and bumps, but I knew I was in a place where magic happened and it did. Three hours later my nails sported immaculate french tips. My hair and face were ready for a Cosmo photo shoot. My body was bruised and crisscrossed with angry red welts, but the beauticians had done their best to hide or minimize the effects. My dress would have to do the rest. At home I did a thorough job of cleaning my pussy, put a clean dressing on my clitty stick and lased it up with a midnight blue ribbon. I didn't want to muss my hair so I didn't down, but I drank a Scotch and soda and took a short power nap in my recliner. 

Refreshed and with time getting short I started to get dressed. I selected a gossamer, lacy thong and matching garter belt in navy blue, navy hose and navy square-toe sling-back pumps with 4-inch heels.

My dress was a classic. The navy silk sheath was knee length and strapless with a built-in bra. It was a vintage Karen Stark my seamstress had carefully restored and fit to my boyish frame. The navy chiffon overdress had long sleeves and a full skirt. A silk navy band around my waist buttoned in the back and was covered by a large bow. 

I had, in essence, borrowed a platinum and 10.62-carat TDW diamond drop necklace, which settled seductively into my petite cleavage. My small diamond tiara peaked out above my bangs. I had one-carat diamond studs in each of my lower ear holes. By the time I added my diamond tennis bracelet, my diamond wedding bands and my Cartier diamond on diamond watch I sparkled at every turn.

My dress had a matching shawl. I slipped it over my shoulders, grabbed my little clutch purse and headed to the living room to have a drink and wait for Master. When I arrived I wasn't alone. Barbara and some guy were sitting on the couch watching a movie.

"Wow, Jamie. You look fabulous." Barbara said.

"Thank you, Ma'am."

She turned to the man and said. "Charlie, this is my sissy husband. I call him Jamie."

The man was barrel-chested, tall and ruggedly good looking. The bulge in his pants was impressive. "You got to be fucking kidding, that's a guy?"

"Well, he's got a tiny little dick, but I don't know about calling him a guy." Barbara said. 

"Jamie, tell Charlie what you like to do." Barbara said.

"Sir, I like to suck cocks and swallow cum. I like to clean cum out of my Mistress' beautiful pussy."

"I guess you have a date." Barbara said.

"Yes, Ma'am."

"I'll keep some of Charlie warm for you, if you make it back tonight." Barbara said with a wink.

"Thank you, Mistress." The awkward interlude was interrupted when my date arrived. I curtsied and said. "Good night Mistress. Good night Mr. Charlie."

My Master was in a Limo parked in the driveway. The chauffer opened my door and I slid in beside Master.

He offered me champagne and said. "My God, Jamie. You are stunning."

"Thank you, Sir."

"But you are different aren't you?"

I took a sip of my wine then said. "I'm not sure what you mean, Sir."

"In addition to your great beauty, there's now an underlying vulnerability. Any man will sense that and want to protect you."

"Yes, sir."

"Because of what you have been through, any act of aggression by a man will genuinely frighten you. What you haven't learned is the absolute power you have over men. Every man is putty in the hands of a beautiful woman -- even me." With that he kissed me softly on the lips.

"I live only to please you, Sir."

"I want you right now, but I'm going to deign myself the pleasure. I don't want to muss you before the other guests get a chance to see you and envy me."

"Sir, you are so wonderful."




Reality TV



© 2003 by Thrillerauthor

It will be billed as "Fear Factor" meets "The Bachelor". Out of twenty-four contestants vying for the right to marry Mr. Right, one will secretly be a guy. If "she" survives the elimination rounds and makes it into the finals, when intimacy is to be expected prior to the climactic episode, all bets are off.

Andrea Messenger tossed the pitch sheet onto the tablecloth and poured skim milk into her muesli. Where did Hap come up with these ideas? 

Hap Arnhold joined her at her banquette at the Polo Lounge a few minutes later, wearing the uniform of a Hollywood agent: black mock turtleneck, black slacks, black Armani jacket. Andrea's subdued dress made her feel like a peacock by comparison. A bad analogy, she thought to herself as Hap ordered his customary bagel and coffee. Weren't the females the drab sex in the bird world? 

As if reading her mind, Hap started in. "Sex roles have been upside down in this town since 'Some Like it Hot', he said between mouthfuls of bagel, "and that documentary that A&E put on about guys and girls swapping places blew your network out of the water. Your ratings for the last 'Bachelor' were way down. This is the perfect way to add a little spice to a tired format." 

"Come on, Hap, nobody would believe it. In the first place, there's no way a guy could last five minutes in that circus without being outed by one of the other girls. They'll all be out for blood."

"So, even if that happens, you'll have pumped your numbers for the first episode, which is crucial, I don't have to tell you. But think about it, Andrea: if these girls all want to win, won't it be in each of their interest to keep the fake girl in the competition as long as possible? There's no way she's going to win it, but each girl she knocks out in the early rounds improves the rest of their chances."

Andrea reflected on this as Hap took a call on his cell phone. "Hi, I'm in the lounge, sitting with a pretty woman in a blue dress," he said as he winked at Andrea. "Come join us." Tall and gangly, with dark curly hair and designer glasses, Andrea was hardly pretty, but she was used to agents kissing her ass.

Hap put his cell phone away and said apologetically, "Sorry, that was my assistant. Some papers I need to sign. Won't take a minute." Andrea looked up as a stunning blonde entered the restaurant and approached them hesitantly. She was tall and athletic looking, with terrific legs beneath her short pleated skirt, and she juggled her purse and briefcase as she waited for Hap to introduce her to Andrea. 

"Andrea, meet Jan Peterson. Sit down, Jan, and join us." Jan slid onto the banquette next to Hap, a shy smile on her beautiful face. 

The girl pulled a contract from her briefcase and handed it to Hap. Andrea looked at Hap in surprise as he slid it across the table to her. "Sign here, Andrea, and welcome your mystery contestant to 'The Bachelor'. 

Andrea's jaw dropped as she stared at Jan, who blinked back at her nervously. "You mean, she's really...a guy?"

Jan blushed a bright crimson and started to get up from the table. Hap held his arm and told him to sit still as Andrea stared at him. If she hadn't been told, there was no way she would have guessed. "How long have you been dressing up like this?" she finally asked.

"I just started this year." His voice was soft and sweet, without a trace of masculinity, and Andrea noticed that his gestures and body language were totally feminine.

Andrea glanced down at the contract. "Your real name is Jan?"

"Yes."

"Are you gay?" Andrea asked.

"Really, Andrea, I'm surprised at you," Hap broke in. "I haven't heard that question in this town in years." Short and slender, with a shaved head and trim mustache, Hap was gay himself.

"Get real, Hap. I've got a mainstream audience. If we gay it up, you can write off the red states, and my sponsors would never go for it."

"I'm not gay," Jan answered before Hap could intervene again. "I'm a normal guy, and I like girls."

"Then why are you doing this?"

"How else am I going to break into this business? Here," he said, reaching into his briefcase and pulling out a photo spread of a young man with a slight build and nondescript features. Andrea studied them and looked back at Jan. The resemblance was unmistakable, but Andrea had to admit to herself that Jan was infinitely more attractive as a woman. It was impossible to tell whether her wispy blonde hair was real or an expensive wig, her blue eyes sparkled, and her makeup was flawless. Andrea realized that she was already thinking of Jan as a she. 

"Hap, I'm gonna have to run this by Mr. Goodkin, but I think he might just go for it. Jan, I want you to meet me in my office this afternoon at four o'clock. Here's my card." She folded up the contract and put it into her briefcase. "And wear something casual. If we're going to pull this off, you'll have to live in the Girls' House for at least two weeks, and that means yakking it up in jeans and a tee shirt till all hours of the night with a school of piranha. Do you think you're ready for that?"

"Bring it on," Jan smiled sweetly. "They'll never know what hit them."

* * *

"This is Sam Ruben with the Hollywood Report. As all of America knows by now, tonight's opening episode of 'The Bachelor' has an amazing twist: one of the would-be brides is not what she seems. But which of the 24 lovely ladies is really a man? That's the question that everybody is talking about. ABC is expecting a record audience tonight as America tunes in to the ultimate gender-bender. Will the other girls give her away, or will they help cover for her to better their own odds? And can Jason, last year's runner-up in 'The Bachelorette', figure her out in time?"

Jan switched off the television in his bedroom at the Girls' House and stretched. Dressed in a yellow nightshirt that came to mid-thigh, he surveyed himself in the full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door. His blonde hair had grown long enough over the past several months to be styled into a shag, which he absent-mindedly fluffed as he turned sideways to inspect his figure. Jan had reluctantly initiated a minimal regimen of female hormones, prescribed by a disreputable Dr. Feelgood, after the network signed his contract. Hap Arnhold had convinced him that the temporary side effects would be well worth it if they prolonged his exposure on national television. As he raised his nightshirt and appraised his softer skin and emerging curves, Jan admitted to himself that the tradeoff had been necessary. Although his budding breasts were barely an A-cup, in a Wonder bra he had a hint of cleavage, almost as much as some of the other girls.

And his long, slim legs were the best in the competition, an edge which Jan exploited with his carefully chosen wardrobe of short outfits. At the taping of the first episode, when the girls promenaded in cocktail attire, Jan had stolen the show in a little black dress. It would be fun to watch himself wearing it on television tonight, especially since he already knew the outcome: Jan was among the twelve girls who had received a rose, the ticket to the next round of eliminations.

Today's taping of the next episode was going to take place at Dodger stadium, where the girls would be expected to cavort with ballplayers on the sidelines before taking their seats with Jason in a plush skybox. So far, Jan had managed to get by with only a few shy words to Jason, and he hoped that the hubbub of the ballgame would provide enough of a distraction for him to pass for another round.

Jan peeled off his nightshirt and took a long, hot shower, shaving his legs as he did so. One of the stipulations which the network had agreed to when they let Jan into the competition was to give each contestant a private bedroom and shower. The Girls' House was, in fact, a compound consisting of twelve two-bedroom townhouses clustered around a clubhouse with a dining and recreation area, where the girls hung out and mugged for the television cameras. The girl who occupied the other bedroom in Jan's townhouse had been eliminated in the first round, a huge break which meant that he now he had the entire unit to himself.

Jan's contract specified that his income would increase significantly the longer he stayed in the competition, and he was determined to make it into the quarterfinals. Once the field was narrowed to half-a-dozen girls, he had no illusions about his ability to survive the mounting scrutiny from the television audience, the media, and the other girls, not to mention poor Jason. Up to now, this had all been a bit of a lark for him, but there was no way Jason was going to become a laughingstock on national television by allowing a guy to become his dream girl.

With these heavy thoughts, Jan selected his outfit for the day. The other girls would be wearing shorts and Dodgers tee shirts, Jan figured, but he needed to look ultra-feminine. It was going to be a warm afternoon, with Santa Ana winds, and Jan had just the thing for it: a pink and white sundress that would barely cover his ass. That, a pair of panties to match his obligatory Wonder bra, and some strappy sandals would knock them dead. 

Jan blow-dried his hair and ran a polished nail over his face. Although the hormones had reduced his beard to next-to-nothing, he gave himself a close shave before putting on his makeup. Glancing at the clock on the bathroom vanity, he hurried back into the bedroom and quickly got dressed. As an afterthought, he rummaged through his dresser for an old Dodger sun visor, which he perched on top of his blonde head. Surveying himself once again in the full-length mirror, he smiled in approval. Jan Peterson was as cute as a bug.

* * *

Gloria Alvarez looked up from her bowl of cereal as Jan bounced into the dining room. "Well, if it isn't Miss Sunshine! Look at you, girly girl. At least we know one of us isn't a guy."

Jan stuck out his tongue as he pulled out the chair next to Gloria's and sat down, nonchalantly tucking his short dress under himself as he did so. "Don't worry, Gloria, your secret's safe with me," Jan said cheerily. A waiter materialized and took Jan's usual order: half a grapefruit, English muffin, and black coffee. 

Gloria leaned forward and whispered in a conspiratorial tone, "Really, Jan, I think I've got this figured out. Becca is the guy. Look at her," she said, motioning with her head towards Rebecca Forte, a stunning brunette who was sitting by herself reading the Los Angeles Times sports pages. "Becca's been talking about going to this stupid game non-stop all morning, finally drove the other girls off. She's got to be the guy."

Jan smiled to himself as he spooned a wedge of grapefruit into his mouth. "Maybe. But look at you, Gloria. Jeans and a sweatshirt. Are you afraid of showing us your muscles?" In fact, Gloria was quite petite, with flashing eyes and a constant smile. 

Gloria laughed and said, "I'll tell you one thing, at least I throw like a girl. Rumor has it that we're all going to play catch with some of the Dodgers, and I'll betcha the guy gives himself away right there."

Jan laughed as he nibbled on his muffin. That would be tricky, all right. Jan had played second base on his high school varsity in Omaha, and he would have to fem it up when they got to the ballpark. After all he had been through to get this far, he wasn't about to blow it all by catching a fly ball. 

"What makes you think our mystery man is still in the competition?" Becca chimed in from across the room. "We all know it was Charlene."

Charlene Boyd, a spectacular black woman, had fallen by the wayside in the first episode, and most of the girls now assumed that she was a guy in vogue mode. The hastily drawn-up rules for 'The Bachelor' after Jan was added to the competition provided that the identity of the lone male would not be revealed until the final episode, in order to prolong viewer interest, on the assumption that the imposter would be eliminated in the early rounds. It was a decision that was to prove catastrophic for the network.

"Okay, girls, time to get in the limos," Andrea Messenger called out from the lobby. The girls gathered up their purses and trooped out the front door to a fleet of waiting stretch limousines. Jan, Gloria and Becca stepped into the first one, and they were off to the stadium for the pre-game taping. Jan looked out the window as Gloria and Becca prattled on about Jason, the show, and the other girls.

"What's eating you, Missy?" Becca finally asked him. 

Jan let out a deep sigh before he answered, giving himself time to invent yet another fantasy from his imagined girlhood. "I hate baseball," he finally said. "When I was little, my dad forced me to try out for tee-ball, and I was so bad! I tried to quit, but he wouldn't let me. So I had to play.

"The final game of the season," Jan went on, "it was like for the league championship, and I came up in the last inning with the bases loaded. And I struck out. This was tee-ball, remember, and I couldn't hit the stupid ball off the tee. I cried all the way home."

"Poor baby," Gloria said. Jan looked over at Becca, who was staring at him with a strange look on her face. Had he overplayed it?

Becca, dressed in cutoff shorts and a belly shirt, was the sexiest girl in the competition, and an early favorite to go all the way to the finals. The other girls regarded her with a mixture of awe and envy, and Jan found her incredibly attractive. Were it not for the gaffe which tucked his penis safely between his legs, he might well have given himself away just looking at her, despite the cooling effects of the hormones.

"Jan, Jan, Jan," she finally said. "You're a big girl now. Watching some hunks on steroids run around and grab their balls is a lot different from your tee-ball memories." The three girls were still laughing when their limousine pulled into Chavez Ravine and deposited them at the VIP entrance.

They fought their way past a throng of paparazzi and entered the beautiful stadium, with its palm trees behind the outfield fence and the glorious banners saluting past heroes from Brooklyn and Los Angeles. A knot of cameramen was waiting for them as they walked across the lush grass towards a group of Dodgers playing catch beside third base. 

Each of the girls was issued an oversized baseball glove and a Dodger hat, except Jan, whose team visor drew several admiring comments. They playfully squeezed the ballplayers' biceps and took turns catching soft tosses from some of the players. Jan dropped everything thrown in his direction, and his short sundress flipped up in back when he tried to throw like a girl. 

The cameramen finished the shoot, and the girls were being herded towards the skybox when Jan heard Becca's voice behind him calling "Heads up!" He turned around just in time to see a baseball headed straight for his face. Instinctively, he reached up and caught it with his bare hand, realizing as he did so that he had just been exposed. He dropped the ball on the grass and looked around to see if anyone else had observed him, but the other girls all seemed preoccupied. 

Becca sidled up next to him and said, "Nice catch."

"How did you know?" Jan whispered.

"Your little story about tee-ball. They don't have championships for kids that age. Everybody swings till they get a hit and the games usually end in a tie. At least that's how it was when I was a little girl."

Jan hung his head in despair. "I guess this is the end of the game for me."

Becca stopped and looked into his eyes. "Are you kidding? No way I'm telling anybody about this. I hope we both make it into the finals. Besides, I think you're kind of cute."

Speechless, Jan fell in behind her as they made their way to the skybox. The rest of the afternoon was a blur as the players took the field and the girls took turns sitting next to Jason and trying to impress him. Jan kept to himself, finally slipping outside the skybox to get some fresh air during the seventh inning stretch.

He was surprised when The Bachelor came looking for him a few minutes later. "We haven't really gotten to know one another," Jason said with a smile. He put his arm around Jan's shoulder, and found him to be shivering. "What's wrong?" he asked gently. 

Jan snapped back to reality. "I'm cold," he managed to say, and indeed the winds had shifted during the game, dropping the temperature a good twenty degrees as they brought the Pacific fog onshore. 

Jason removed his leather jacket and carefully draped it over Jan's shoulders. At six foot two, the ruggedly handsome man towered over Jan. "Is that better?"

Jan snuggled up to him and looked gratefully into his eyes. "Thanks."

"You're awfully shy. Are you always this way?"

"Only when I'm dating a guy along with eleven other girls on national television," Jan said with a smile, ignoring the scowls from Andrea Messenger, who was catching every word from behind the camera.

Jason threw back his head and laughed. "Finally, a girl who'll speak her mind! Tell me, Miss Honesty, what do you think of me?"

Jan didn't hesitate. "I think you're the best-looking guy I've ever seen, and it broke my heart when that bimbo didn't pick you on 'The Bachelorette.'" More scowls from Andrea, and another belly laugh from Jason.

One of the other girls came outside looking for them. "Hey, break it up, you two," she said. "No fair keeping Jason all to yourself out here."

Jason took Jan's hand and squeezed it. "Keep the jacket. It looks good on you. Anything would," he added lamely as he went back inside. Jan followed them back inside, and spent the rest of the game cheering a late Dodger rally along with the other girls, exchanging occasional glances with Jason.

After the game, the girls were whisked back to the Girls' House to watch the telecast of the first episode. The taping of the next rose ceremony was scheduled for the following morning, and all of the girls seemed preoccupied with their chances as they watched themselves preen and prance on television. When Charlene Boyd missed the cut, several were heard to call out, "Sorry Charlie!" and "Bye Guy!" Jan glanced over at Becca, who smiled back at him and said nothing. 

After the show was over, the girls returned to their rooms, and Jan had just finished removing his makeup when he heard a tap on the door. Probably one of the network gophers with instructions about tomorrow's shoot. He pulled a robe over his nightshirt and opened the door. Becca slipped inside and pushed the door shut behind her.

"Shhh!" she whispered before Jan could say anything. "We'll both get kicked off the show if they find out I'm in here." She found the light switch and turned off the lights.

"Are you crazy?" Jan said in his normal voice. 

"You have some serious explaining to do, Mister," she said, leading him over to the sofa. "Tell me everything! How did they get you to pretend you were a girl? And how did you get so damn good at it?"

Jan sat down next to her and let out a deep sigh. She had him totally over a barrel, and he knew it. "Nobody put me up to it, except maybe my agent. He saw me act in a stage production of 'Sugar' and came up with the idea. When he pitched the idea to the network, I never believed they'd go for putting a guy in drag on the show."

"You're an actor?"

"When I can get gigs. Most of the time, I work as a waiter and a model to make ends meet."

"Are you gay?"

"No!" he shouted.

"Shhhh! Sorry, but I had to know."

"Why?"

Becca reached under his nightshirt and started exploring. "Because I'm incredibly horny. And you're so hot as a girl. I wonder what you're like as a guy?"

Jan felt himself stirring, in spite of the female hormones in his system. His penis strained against his panties as she probed under his nightshirt, and when she released it from captivity, it sprang to attention. "Wow, wait till Jason discovers this," she giggled.




Reality TV



Jan started to lose control. After months of suppressing every thought, desire and instinct that might give him away, he yearned for his missing manhood, and when Becca suddenly kissed him, his old self came rushing back. He stroked her hot buttons, bringing her right up to edge until neither one of them could hold out any longer. Slowly, gently, he entered her beautiful body, up to the hilt, again and again, until finally they came together in a shattering climax.

They lay side by side without speaking, lost in time, their hearts beating in unison as they slowly came back down to earth. "Wow," Becca finally said.

"You should see me when I'm not full of estrogen," Jan replied.

She rolled over and rested her chin on his chest. "You mean you're taking hormones?"

"Just until the show's over. The doctor told me there would be no lasting effects as long as I gave them up soon."

"And if you don't?"

"Then I guess I'll turn into a girl. At least, I'd be too far gone to be a guy again."

"Doesn't that scare you?"

"Not as long as I pull the ripcord in time. I mean, actors gain and lose tons of weight for roles all the time." For some reason, Jan found himself opening up to her. "And I've got to admit, I'm going to miss this. Don't get me wrong, I like being a guy, and I don't want to spend the rest of my life as a chick."

"Then what do you mean, you'll miss it?"

"I don't know, it's just been fun, that's all. Like being the only person in the world who knows this incredible secret. Well, except for my agent and the network."

"How about your family? Do they know you're doing this?"

"Hell, no! My mom and dad are back in Omaha, and they're having enough trouble with their son being a starving actor."

"No girlfriend?"

"No girlfriend. How could I? Ever since we were in rehearsals for 'Sugar', I've had to shave my legs and dress up as a girl half the time, and once my agent convinced me to try out for 'The Bachelor', it's been full time."

"I still don't understand why you're doing all this."

"My career was going nowhere. I'm just an average-looking guy, fighting for bit parts. With the exposure I'll get from 'The Bachelor', I may be able to break out of the pack."

"Won't this sort of type-cast you as, well, you know, a fairy?"

"Did you ever hear of a show called 'Bosom Buddies'?

"No."

"It was on TV back in the eighties. A weekly sitcom. Guess who played a guy who has to dress up as a girl and live in a woman's boarding house?"

"Beats me."

"Tom Hanks. And it sure as hell didn't hurt his career."

Becca patted his hairless legs. "That still doesn't explain one thing."

"What's that?"

"How did you get so good at this? Honest to God, until your little slip-up today, I never would have guessed you were a guy. And none of the other girls has a clue. They all think poor Charlene was the one."

"I guess I'm really a good actor."

"I'll say." She stroked his penis back to life, and they went at it once again. If anything, the hormones made him a better lover, slowing him down so that their bodies were in perfect synch. When they finally came, it was simultaneous once again, and this time Jan had to hush Becca as she cried out in ecstasy. 

* * *

Taping for the rose ceremony was scheduled for nine o'clock, and the girls were up early preparing themselves for the big moment. For half of them, the morning would end with a long ride back to the Girls' House to clear out their belongings and return to oblivion. For the lucky survivors, there would be a romantic dinner with Jason, beginning that evening and spread out over the next six days.

Jan tried to put his incredible night with Becca out of his head as he finished dressing. He had selected the outfit he had first worn the day he surprised Andrea Messenger at the Polo Lounge: a white mock turtleneck sweater and a short black pleated skirt, accessorized by a wide black Gucci belt and a colorful Hermes scarf. As he tugged on a pair of sheer black stockings, he wondered what Becca must be thinking as she went through the identical motions back in her room. Getting all dressed up, so full of hope, knowing full well that there was a fifty-fifty chance she would be crying her eyes out before the morning was over. For Jan, the show had started out as little more than an audacious prank, but something about this experience was drawing him closer and closer to the way women thought, felt and acted. 

"Snap out of it, girl!" he said to his reflection as he appraised the finished product in the full-length mirror. Once again, Jan Peterson was devastating. Jan stepped into a pair of black pumps with gold trim, dropped a lipstick and compact into his black leather purse, and headed off to join the other girls in the dining room. Most of them had already finished breakfast, and Jan had a quick cup of coffee as they started to file out to the waiting caravan of limousines. Becca was nowhere to be seen, and Jan assumed that she had already gone outside.

He was right. When he got into the last car with Gloria and a beautiful Eurasian girl named Cat, who had the other bedroom in Becca's townhouse, the atmosphere was so thick you could cut it with a knife. There was none of the banter from yesterday's ride to the ballpark. Today was deadly serious, and each of the girls was focused on her own chances as they rode in silence to a seaside mansion in Palos Verdes which had been commandeered as Jason's bachelor pad for the duration of the show. 

They were assembled in a semi-circle at the foot of a wide spiral staircase, and when Jason descended to greet them, some of the girls were visibly trembling. Becca was the first girl to get a rose. Gloria shrieked when she was selected. Finally it came down to the last rose, and when Jason handed it to Jan, one of the also-rans actually fainted.

They were ushered back into the limos as soon as taping wrapped, and each of the remaining contestants was given a schedule of the activities for the remainder of the show. Jan studied it carefully during the ride back to the Girls' House, while Gloria ran on like a chatterbox and Cat stared morosely out the window. 

There was a lot of down time coming up. Jan's dinner with Jason was scheduled for the following evening, which was good: a day to get ready, but then it would be over with. Each girl was entitled to a shopping spree on Rodeo Drive and a makeover at a Beverly Hills salon before her big date with Jason, and Jan's was scheduled for the following morning. After the last dinner date, another rose ceremony, narrowing the field to three girls. Then an overnight getaway with Jason for each of the three, to someplace close to Los Angeles that they would get to select. Another rose ceremony, and the two girls left standing would be expected to bring Jason home to meet Mom and Dad. When Jan read this, he nearly gagged. 

The surviving girls kept to themselves for the rest of that day. Alone in his townhouse, Jan put on shorts and a tee shirt and began to plot out his moves for the remainder of the contest. He had two major problems, assuming he survived a romantic dinner with another man: where to go on his getaway with Jason, and how to manufacture a family to meet with his prospective fiancé.

At four o'clock, no closer to an answer to either problem, Jan changed into a sports bra and jogging shorts and laced up his sneakers for a long run. A combination of reduced calorie intake and an aggressive exercise program had enabled him to get down to his ideal weight for a woman, and he was determined to take off another pound before his big dinner with Jason so he could enjoy the meal. There you go again, thinking just like a girl, he said to himself as he went outside and bumped smack into Becca. "Hey," he said.

Becca was just returning from a swim, and her long brown hair was slicked straight back. Without makeup, her chiseled nose and high cheekbones gave her face a purity that Jan regarded with a twinge of envy. She asked him to walk along with her, and when they got to her townhouse, she pulled him inside and closed the door. Neither spoke as they tore off each other's clothes and tumbled into bed, making sweet love again and again until it was almost time for dinner. 

"So much for my jog," Jan sighed as he strapped on his bra.

"You got a good workout," Becca giggled. "When's your big date?"

"Tomorrow night."

"Do you think you can pull it off?"

"I don't see how I can."

"Let me give you a little tip. From a girl who's been on a few more dates with guys than you have. Take the initiative by asking him questions that make him do most of the talking."

"So he can't ask me any questions about myself? Good idea."

"Well, that's part of it, although you're a good little liar and you can probably get away with whatever you dream up. But there's another reason. By making him talk about himself, you'll make him feel important and wanted. Guys like that. And they like girls who make them feel that way."

"Becca, I'm not trying to get Jason to fall for me."

"Sweetheart, that is exactly what you are trying to do! In fact, that's the only reason you've gotten this far. Look at the way you dressed up this morning, making the rest of us look like hags. Don't tell me you're not in this thing to win."

"Sure, I want to win, but I don't want him to fall in love with me. I'm a guy, remember?"

"Oh, I remember. But you remember this: the only way you get to win this thing is to make him fall in love with you."

"I don't want to hurt him."

"Then don't let him fall in love with you."

"You know what? I think you're jealous."

"You're damn right I'm jealous. Every woman in America is going to be jealous of you when they find out that you're really a guy. God help you if you win this thing. They'll probably castrate you on television. Now that would be a good reality show!" 

"Just don't tell my agent. If he thought it would get ratings, he'd try to talk me into it." 

"All you have to do is take a dive, Sis. Hit the wine as hard as you can and throw up on Jason at dinner tomorrow night."

"You just want to knock me out of the competition."

"You're damn right I do! You scare me more than the real girls."

"Why's that?"

"Because they're all gonna be nervous as hell, and probably make idiots of themselves. Put them up against a professional actor who looks like you do in a cocktail dress, and they haven't got a chance."

"So what? Each girl I knock out of the competition is one less girl for you to compete with."

"That's what I'm worried about."

"I don't get it."

"What could be more humiliating than to lose this thing to a guy?"

* * *

Jan was up early the following morning for his makeover and shopping excursion. Dressed in a simple shirtdress and flats, he joined the remaining girls for breakfast. Gloria was regaling them about her dinner date with Jason the night before.

 "He was so wonderful! We had champagne and caviar, and then some kind of fish soup before the main course. It was delicious! He is so sophisticated," she rambled on, as the other girls hung on every word. All except Becca, who rolled her eyes and sat down next to Jan at an adjoining table. 

 "One down, five to go," Becca said. "No way Jason's going to want to spend another minute with that airhead."

 "You're wicked," Jan said as he munched on his English muffin. "Still think I should blow it tonight?"

 "As I matter of fact, I've reconsidered my entire strategy. I'm not afraid of you now, in fact I want you to make it into the final three. Let Jason get the shock of his life when he tries to hit on you during your overnight getaway."

"Where are you going to take him? If you make it into the final three, I mean," Jan asked her.

 "Vegas, baby! How about you?"

 "It's a big problem."

 "Hey, I know, how about San Francisco? You could have a nice dinner on Castro Street, take in a drag show, then lure him back to your hotel after you've softened him up."

 "That's real nice, Becca, but you know what? You've just given me an idea on how to solve my other problem."

"What other problem?"

"Taking him home to Mom and Dad."

"Don't worry, sweetheart, you're not gonna get that far."

Jan caught a wave from Andrea Messenger, who was pointing at her watch to signal that it was time to leave for his escapade in Beverly Hills. "I'm off to get beautiful," he told Becca as he picked up his purse. "Don't count me out just yet."

* * *

Three hours later, Jan emerged from a chic salon on Canon Drive, turning heads as he returned to his waiting stretch limousine. His hair was now ash blonde, a few shades lighter than his natural color, his skin was radiant, and his makeup and nails were perfect. Even his pedicured feet looked feminine. He had gently but firmly refused a massage, claiming doctor's orders because of chronic back soreness, and if the salon staff guessed his true identity, they kept it to themselves.

He was almost embarrassed to walk into Rodeo Drive's trendiest boutique in his drab shirtdress, but the manager greeted him at the door, and the ubiquitous camera crew from the network was there to capture his search for the dress that might win Jason's heart. Jan gushed over each of the manager's suggestions, finally settling on a slinky blue number with spaghetti straps and a long slit up one side. He had never worn a long dress before, and he wasn't even sure he'd know how to walk or sit down in it, but it was so beautiful, he had to try it on. Unbuttoning his shirtdress in the dressing room, he stepped into his selection and pulled it up, marveling at how the expensive fabric clung to his body like a second skin. As soon as he saw himself in it, he knew that he had just taken the competition up to a whole new level. 

The rest of the afternoon was consumed with finding the perfect pair of strappy heels and a matching clutch purse, a strapless push-up bra, and complementary lingerie to complete his outfit. After a visit to a famous jewelry store which had made arrangements with the network to loan each of the girls an assortment of diamond jewelry, his final acquisition was an expensive French perfume. When he returned to the Girls' House late in the afternoon, he went straight to his room and tried to take a nap, tossing and turning in anticipation of the night to come. After he finally drifted off, he dreamed that he was a girl getting ready for her first date, fussing over what to wear and how to fix her hair. 

* * *

Bootlegged videos of the episode of "The Bachelor" featuring Jan's dinner date with Jason have become the hottest links on YouTube, continuing to rise in popularity with each attempt by the network to squelch them for copyright infringement. From the standpoint of sheer acting ability, nothing seen on television over the last decade can come close to Jan's performance that night.

The tape begins with the valet of an exclusive Beverly Hills restaurant opening the door to Jan's stretch limousine, and a lovely leg emerging through the slit in his dress as he gracefully alights from the vehicle. A kiss on the cheek from the waiting Jason, who squires him into the restaurant, Jan's arm through his as the couple is escorted to a quiet booth. The surrounding tables were cleared out to make room for the film crews, allowing for three different camera angles as Jason and Jan got to know each other for the first time.

Following Becca's suggestion, Jan tried to steer the conversation to Jason: his boyhood, his interests, his past loves, his career. Jan deftly deflected all questions about his girlhood and past boyfriends, always coming back to Jason and his hopes and aspirations. The more Jason talked about himself, the more he seemed to be fascinated by his date.

At one point, he asked Jan point blank about his family. "My dad died in a car crash when I was a little girl, and I was raised by my mom," Jan replied sadly, and Jason quickly turned the conversation towards happier things. All he was able to pry out of his date about her mythical life was that she was a part-time actress and model in Los Angeles, who lived alone and had remained close to her mother. The television audience was falling in love with her along with Jason.

Jan limited himself to two glasses of wine, keeping his wits about him as the evening drew to a close. While they lingered over cappuccinos, he felt Jason's hand slide against his thigh, safely encased in his long dress. Out of sight of the cameras, he moved his hand under the booth and held it over Jason's, sliding it up a few inches before he squeezed it. The hidden gesture was enough for Jason, who raised Jan's hand and kissed it as America swooned.

When it was finally time to go, Jason escorted Jan to his waiting limousine, and awkwardly kissed him on the cheek. Suddenly Jan stood on his tiptoes and gave Jason a soft kiss, smack on the lips. He brushed Jason's nose with a manicured finger and said, "Thanks for a great time. Whoever you select is one lucky girl." Jason stood and stared as Jan got back into his limousine and was driven away.

As soon as he was alone in the limousine, Jan began to shake uncontrollably. It was a catharsis after almost three hours of unrelenting pressure, and he rummaged through the liquor cabinet and poured himself a straight bourbon. Ignoring the stares from the driver in the rear-view mirror, he sipped it gratefully on the way back to the Girls' House, although he took the precaution of opening the window and tossing his empty glass out into some bushes before they pulled up the driveway. Several of the girls were waiting up for him when he walked into the clubhouse, but he ignored them and went straight to his room.

He was kicking off his heels when he heard someone behind him. Startled, he turned around to find Becca lounging on his bed, naked under the covers. "Have fun tonight, Missy?"

"Now that it's over, yes, I think I did."

"Hmmm...I think you're starting to like this."

"I guess I thrive on competition."

"Not that, I mean the girl stuff. Look at yourself. Don't you think it's a little scary?"

"It's only a game, remember?"

"And you honestly think you're gonna be able to give all this up when it's over?"

"Sure. I told you already, I never wanted to become a woman."

"Maybe not, but will you be able to give up being a girl?"

He looked at her cross-eyed as he peeled off his dress. "What do you mean?"

"Jan, you've been given a glimpse of something that half the population never sees. In fact, more than half, because most girls don't look anywhere near as good as you do."

"What are you talking about?"

"What I'm talking about is this: there is nothing in this world more fun than being a pretty girl. And you love it. Every little thing you do screams 'I love being a girl'. If you can't see that, you're not only fooling Jason and a national television audience, you're fooling yourself as well."

He sat down next to her on the bed and stroked her long brown hair. "Okay, I'll admit it. I'm digging this, way more than I should. But this is like a total fantasy existence. When it's over, I don't want to spend the rest of my life like this."

"I know that. Who'd want all the baggage that comes along with being a woman? Right now, you've got the best of both worlds."

"And you're the best part of it." 

They kissed, and she teased him about his breath. "Was Jason trying to get you drunk? You taste like whisky."

"I poured myself a long one in the car on the way back."

"How very unladylike."

"I'll show you unladylike." He wrestled her down, and she pulled off his bra and panties. When she removed his gaffe, his penis sprang to attention, and she rolled over on top of him and straddled him, humping him like he was the girl. Once again, they came together, over and over, only this time they stayed in bed and talked all night. 




Reality TV



* * *

Jan was grateful for the hiatus which followed his big date. While each of the girls was given her shot at Jason, the others all enjoyed a one-day pass outside the compound. Jan knew exactly how he had to spend his free day.

He was a few minutes late for his lunch meeting in West Hollywood with Hap Arnhold. Wearing dark glasses in an attempt to overcome his new celebrity status, he found Hap holding forth at his regular table. Jan was wearing the same sundress that had wowed the crowd at Dodger Stadium, but most of the men in the restaurant paid no attention to him. Virtually all of them were gay. 

"Look at you," Hap said proudly. "No wonder Andrea Messenger is shitting bricks."

Jan waited until a waiter took their orders. "Have you been watching the show?"

"Religiously, along with the rest of the country. You're knocking them dead."

"When does the next episode get aired?"

"Next week. You should know. It's the big date show, when Jason has dinner each night with a different girl. How did yours go?"

"That's why I called you. It went great. No, better than great." Jan looked around to make sure no one was listening. "Hap, I've been a guy most of my life, and I can tell when a guy has the hots for a girl. This guy wants to get into my pants."

"Along with every other red-blooded boy in America. So what's the problem?"

"The problem, Hap, is that if I make it into the next round, I have to spend the night with him. And if by some miracle I can make it through that, I have to bring him home to Mom and Dad."

"They're gonna love this in Omaha."

"Fuck you!" Jan shouted in his girlish voice, attracting stares from the nearby tables. "Fuck you and this fucking idea of yours. There's no way I'm going to drag my family into this freak show. It would kill them."

"All right, all right already, calm down," Hap said. "We'll think of something."

"I already have, Mom."

"What?"

The waiter returned with their orders, and Jan waited until they were alone again. "You heard me right, I called you Mom. So far as Jason knows, I was raised by a single mother in Los Angeles. If he's dense enough to put me in the finals, you'll have no trouble fooling him too."

"Now hold on. I'm a respected figure in this town. You can't expect me to parade around in a dress and pretend to be your mother on national television."

Jan leaned forward, and his voice was deadly serious. "That is exactly what I expect. You wrote my contract. If I make it into the finals, there's an extra hundred thousand in it for me, and with your obscene commission, you'll get a big slice of that. Besides, you got me into this mess. You owe me."

"No way. Find yourself another mother," Hap said with finality.

"Then you leave me no choice." Jan put his purse on the table and patted his mouth with his napkin. After freshening his lipstick, he stood up to leave.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"Straight to Andrea Messenger's office. I'm going to walk off the show."

"You can't be serious!"

"Try me."

"They'll sue you!"

"I'll go back to Omaha. At least then my family won't disown me."

"Think of me! I'll never work in this town again."

"What a shame."

"Jan, please!"

Jan spun on his heel and headed towards the door. 

"All right! All right! I'll do it!" Hap cried.

Jan turned around and returned to Hap's table. All eyes in the restaurant were on him as he sat down and kissed Hap on the cheek. "Thanks, Mom."

* * *

Jan was waiting up for Becca when she returned from her date with Jason that evening. "How did it go?" he asked her as he watched her undress.

"It was dreamy, just like your date. He's really a nice guy, don't you think?"

"Do you have feelings for him?"

"Now it's your turn to be jealous! Of course I do. He's a hunk."

"So it's just physical?"

Becca waltzed around the room in her bra and panties, pretending that she was dancing with her Prince Charming. "I dunno, Jan. It's nice spending time with a guy who doesn't wear lipstick and nylons."

He got up to leave. "Where you going?"

"Back to reality. Thanks for the cold shower."

"Hey, I was only kidding, you know that."

"Were you?" he said as he opened the door.

"Please, come back."

One dramatic exit was enough for the day. Jan closed the door behind him and returned to his room.

* * *

Jan and Becca avoided each other for the rest of the week. In fact, the tension between all of the girls was palpably higher as the taping of the next rose ceremony approached. Finally, the day after the last quarterfinalist had her dinner with Jason, the girls were herded into two limousines and taken back to the mansion in Palos Verdes. Even Gloria was silent during the forty-minute drive.

Once again, they were assembled at the foot of the spiral staircase, and once again Jason pronounced their fates. Gloria, Becca and Jan were each presented with a rose. Two of the other girls broke down, and the third gave Jason the finger off-camera.

The three winners were ushered into one of the limousines along with Andrea Messenger, who had a clipboard on her knees as they headed back to the Girls' House. If she was concerned about the upcoming train wreck between Jason and Jan, she gave no indication. "Okay, ladies, you've had almost a week to decide where to take Jason on your overnight getaway. Becca, you first. Where to?"

"I want to stay in one of those high roller villas at the Bellagio in Las Vegas."

"Done. How about you, Gloria?"

Gloria, who had kept uncharacteristically quiet, closed her eyes and smiled. "I want the 'Pretty Woman' suite at the Beverly Wilshire Hotel. That's where they filmed the movie, right?"

"No problem." She turned to Jan with trepidation. "And you, Jan?"

"We're going to hire a sport fishing boat in San Diego and go deep sea fishing off the coast of Baja."

"What?" all three of them asked in unison.

"You heard me. Jason told me he loves to fish, and I've got a little sailor dress that I've been dying to wear."

"Okay, if that's what you really want," Andrea said, wondering how they would be able to support a camera crew on board a fishing boat. Gloria started talking up a blue streak about her plans for her romantic evening with Jason. When Jan looked over at Becca, she nodded and gave him a conspiratorial wink, as if to say, "I don't know what your game is, but I'm going to figure it out."

Gloria's getaway was scheduled first, followed by Becca and Jan. When they returned to the Girls' House, Gloria went off to pack her things while Becca and Jan had a light lunch together. 

"So much for your theory about Gloria," Jan said to break the ice. Things were still cool between them.

"New fact. Changed the equation."

"What fact?"

"Gloria gave Jason a blow job during dinner the other night."

Jan choked on a crouton. "You've got to be kidding!" he said as he washed it down with iced tea.

"Nope, it's true."

"Did she tell you?"

"Are you kidding? I learned it from one of the camera guys I was flirting with before my date."

"No way."

"Oh, yes. When she came back from the ladies room during a break in the taping, she ducked under the tablecloth and crawled under the booth. Nobody saw it except the guy who told me, and he's pretty cool. He said Jason sat up with a start, and then his eyes got real big all of a sudden. Next thing he knew, Jason had this shit-eating grin on his face, and Gloria came out from under the table looking like a cat who just swallowed a canary."

"You girls."

"Isn't it gross? But you gotta admit, it worked for her."

"I can't believe Jason is that superficial."

"Dear, sweet, innocent Jan! Are you sure you're really a guy? I think you've been wearing skirts and dresses too long, Missy."

"Okay, so she put out. Jason can have any girl he wants. Why pick her?"

"So he can get laid tonight, dummy. That's why. Don't you realize what this means?"

"That Jason is going to get fucked tonight, I guess."

"Guys are so dense sometimes," she sighed. "It means you and I are headed for the finals. Jason wants to get his rocks off tonight, and Gloria is a sure bet for that. It takes the pressure off him with us. By the way, nice move with the fishing trip. Are you going to jump overboard when he discovers you're really a guy?"

* * *

Becca and Jan kept to themselves the next day, and when Gloria returned from her overnight, there was scarcely time to grill her before Becca and Jason were off to Las Vegas. All they learned was that Jason was wonderful, the suite was amazing, and Gloria had the best sex of her entire life.

Jan felt downright depressed after Becca departed with Jason. Who was he jealous of, Becca or Jason? As he lolled around his room, listlessly packing a nightgown for his night on the boat, he kept going over the things she had said to him, and the gulf that had formed between them. "It's nice spending time with a guy who doesn't wear lipstick and nylons... you've been wearing skirts and dresses too long, Missy." 

And that was before their big blowup. In order to charter a fishing boat in San Diego in time to make it out to deep water during daylight hours, they would have to get up early tomorrow, a fact which had infuriated Becca when she found out about it just before she left for Las Vegas. She complained bitterly to Andrea Messenger that it was all a plot to cut short her getaway with Jason, but Andrea had explained that they had to stay on schedule. Becca was still seething when she stormed out of the compound.

Jan finished packing and sipped a glass of wine as he soaked in the tub before shaving his legs one last time. Tomorrow would finish him, unless his cockamamie plan worked. He had another glass of wine before he fell asleep, once again dreaming that he was a girl, this time on the eve of her wedding and honeymoon. He woke up with a start when the alarm told him it was 4:00 am. 

Jan wasn't kidding about the little sailor dress. It was navy blue, with white piping on the hem and collar, and a red kerchief that he tied loosely around his neck. Bare legs and topsiders completed the nautical theme. When he joined Jason at Santa Monica airport for the quick trip in the network's jet to San Diego, he detected exhaustion on Jason's face. But he seemed to perk up when he saw his date.

"Wow. You're not going to catch any fish dressed like that, but you sure look cute," Jason said as he strapped himself in beside Jan.

"You can catch the fish, big boy, and I'll make sure your beer stays cold. Deal?"

"Deal. Man, was I stoked when they told me about this. How did you know I liked sport fishing?"

"You told me, silly, don't you remember?"

"I probably told you a lot of things I don't remember."

The sleek jet turned onto the runway and blasted into the sky. "How was your date with Becca?" Jan asked above the roar of the engines.

Jason seemed surprised by the question. "Uh, we're not supposed to talk about that."

"Sorry. I thought you liked my honesty."

That threw him. "Well, I do, but I mean, that wouldn't be fair to Becca, would it?"

"Who says I have to play fair?"

"Look, this is almost over, and I really like you, okay? Let's not blow it now."

Jan gave him his sweetest smile. "You just passed the test."

"What test?"

"Jason, this whole thing has been totally weird, but the thing that's worried me the most was that the whole world would learn about whatever might happen between us. It's like we're in such a goldfish bowl. If you'd told me about your date with Becca, I'd be afraid we had no secrets."

Jason frowned. "Where do you get off testing me?"

"Jason, if we're going to make it, it's going to have to be for real. No relationship can survive if one person is totally dependent on the other. I'm sorry, but I just can't sit here and say whatever you want me to say, and do whatever you want me to do, in the hopes that you will select me over the other girls. If I did, and you picked me, we wouldn't last five minutes once we got away from this circus. That's what this is supposed to be all about, isn't it?"

Jason reached down and squeezed Jan's knee. "You know something? You're amazing. Not just pretty, but you've got a real head on your shoulders. The only other one who comes close to you is Becca. There, how's that for honesty?"

Jan reached forward and kissed him on the cheek. "That's what I like in a man."

They pressed their heads together as they looked out the window at San Diego's spectacular harbor, then they were on the ground and speeding towards Shelter Island for their rendezvous with the charter boat. The Silver Bonito was just as Jan had imagined, small and sturdy, her decks crowded with fishing gear and one very uptight camera crew. Andrea Messenger was waiting for them at dockside.

"Okay, kids, here she is," Andrea said. "The beer and the bait are already on board, and the Captain has promised to cook whatever you catch for dinner tonight. We'll see you back here tomorrow morning."

Jan pulled a floppy hat out of his canvas shoulder bag and sat down on the afterdeck across from Jason, who was clearly in heaven. As Jan had anticipated, the roar of the engines made small talk impossible, and for the rest of the afternoon they bounded over the open ocean until they were on top of a school of albacore. Jason hooked one almost immediately, and Jan cheered him as he battled with it, perspiring in the hot sun. Jan rubbed sunscreen on his muscular arms and thick neck, keeping him supplied with cold beer as he reeled in fish after fish.

The sun was low on the horizon when the Captain headed back towards San Diego. They would drop anchor just outside the harbor, Jason and Jan sharing a cramped cabin with a toilet and shower while the camera crew retreated below. Jason was clearly exhausted as they watched the sun dip into the Pacific during the long run back towards the harbor, and Jan massaged his aching shoulders and kept him plied with beer. When they finally dropped anchor, the Captain served up a delicious dinner of grilled albacore, which Jason wolfed down while Jan picked at his plate.

Eventually, Jason noticed Jan's lack of appetite. "Something wrong?" he asked.

Jan nodded his head and started to cry.

"What is it?"

"I'm seasick."

"You are? Why didn't you tell me?"

"You were having such a great time, I didn't want to spoil your day."

"Jan, I'm so sorry."

"Please, don't be. It was my stupid idea. And you know what? Even though I feel totally lousy, this has been one of the greatest days of my life."

Jason led Jan to the bedroom and tucked him in under the covers after he took off his dress. "You go to sleep, it's the best thing for you."

"Are you sure you'll be all right?"

"Hell, I'll be fine, the boys are playing poker down below, I'll go take some money off them and then sleep in a hammock under the stars. Go to sleep, baby. I'll see you in the morning." He kissed Jan on the forehead and quietly closed the cabin door behind him.

* * *

Andrea Messenger paced nervously back and forth on the dock as the Silver Bonito swung into her berth. There was no sign of Jan or Jason on deck. Were they even speaking to each other? Would Jason fly off the handle when he saw Andrea? Under his contract, he had no way out of the show, but that didn't mean he had to be pleasant about it. How in the world had she let Hap Arnhold talk her into this? At least she had covered her rear end with the studio executives. But they could still make her a scapegoat. 

Suddenly Jan and Jason emerged from a hatchway, laughing and joking about something. Jan was still wearing the blue sailor dress, and Jason looked like he had slept in his tee shirt and cutoffs. What the hell was going on?

"Good morning," Andrea shouted at them. "Have a good time?"

Jason pointed to the stack of albacore waiting to be offloaded. "The best!" he shouted back.

"How about you, Jan?" she asked after the Captain cut the engines. "Everything okay?"

Jan knew that the cameras were rolling. "It was wonderful," he said with a sigh. My man caught our dinner, and then he tucked me into bed. It was every girl's dream." 

The cameras caught them getting back into their limousine for the short drive to the airport. When they were alone, they laughed about the look an Andrea's face. "I don't know what was eating her, but you're quite the little actress," Jason said.

"You have no idea," Jan replied. When they got back on the plane, Jason nodded off as soon as they strapped themselves in, and Jan knew that he was home free.

* * *

Having slept for nine hours in the cozy little cabin, Jan felt and looked terrific when he returned to the Girls' House, a striking contrast to the bedraggled appearance of the other girls who had preceded him. Becca eyed him warily as he stopped by the dining room for a cup of coffee before returning to his room.

 "Still wearing the same dress, I see," Becca said. "You're going to give us all a bad reputation."

 Jan faked a yawn. "I was too tired to change. Besides, Jason really likes me in this dress."

 "How many times did you do it?" Gloria asked.

 "The nerve of you!" Jan said. "What makes you think I'm that kind of girl?"

 "Come off it, Sister," Becca said. Suddenly Jan was afraid that Becca might spill the beans. It would be a smart move, which would simultaneously knock her chief rival out of the competition, and endear her to Jason forever when he realized what she had done for him. 

 Gloria saved him. "I bet they screwed all night, after Jason's night with you. They tell me Jason lost his ass at the tables, which must have put him in a terrific mood, then you guys had to get up in the middle of the night to fly back to LA. He had to be horny."

 "Tell us about your evening," Becca retorted. "Did you blow him under the table again in the dining room, or did he take you straight to bed so you could suck him off while he had room service?"

 Becca and Gloria had to be forcibly separated by Andrea Messenger and one of the gophers as Jan ducked out of the clubhouse and returned to his room.

* * *

The girls rode in stony silence to the penultimate rose ceremony, which was mercifully short. Jason selected Becca and Jan, after thanking Gloria for all the good times. She seemed genuinely shocked when he dumped her, and before she was led away by network staffers, she tearfully thanked Jason and wished the last two girls well. Jan reckoned that she was angling for a shot at "The Bachelorette". Becca wrote her off as a ridiculous bimbo.

 Gloria was whisked off in a separate limo, leaving Becca and Jan to ride back to the lonely Girls' House with Andrea Messenger. Arrangements were already underway for Jason to meet their families, and each of the girls was given a date and time for the film crews to show up at their parents' doors. Becca, who was from the Chicago, would go first, and her large Italian family was already gearing up for the spectacle. 

 Needless to say, Andrea Messenger was more than apprehensive about Jan's situation. She accepted at face value his description of his childhood, substituting his true sex for the girl in the yarn he had spun for Jason. Would his mother welcome her son and his boyfriend with open arms? Was America ready for that?

Things had gotten way out of hand, and all Andrea could do now was hang on tight and pray to God that Jason had the good sense to choose Becca. Then again, she knew full well that if he did propose to Jan, the sensational revelation, when leaked to the media before the airing of the final episode, would propel their ratings into the stratosphere. A "win-win", the network suits called it, but for Andrea, it was a disaster waiting to happen. 

* * *

The Girls' House was deserted after Becca and the crew left for Chicago, leaving Jan alone with plenty of time to think. "The Bachelor" had consumed his existence for months, and it was time to start planning his life after the fantasy ended.




Reality TV



It had become his routine to begin each morning with a trip to the medicine cabinet for his daily dose of premarin. There were only three pills left in the bottle, which brought home to him the wild ride that he had been through, and the enormous changes that lay ahead for him.

Becca had been right. What started as a game had turned into much more. Jan had always been honest with himself, which was one of the reasons he had gone for Hap's crazy idea when it became clear that his acting career was heading south. Now, as he surveyed his naked body in the bathroom mirror, he contemplated what he had done to himself. Slowly but surely, he was turning himself into a girl. 

It wasn't just the hormones. His voice, his gestures, even the way he thought were becoming more and more feminine. He knew that he was dangerously close to the point of no return, and it scared him that he even considered the possibility. Scared him because, deep down inside, he knew that Becca was right. He was enjoying this way too much. 

How else to explain the thrill he had experienced yesterday during another shopping trip on the network to select his outfits for the rest of the show? It was only to a shopping center in Santa Monica, but the cheers and encouragement he had received from the people passing by were astonishing. "You go girl!" from the women, and "I love you!" from the men. Jan was blushing by the time he got to Talbot's, and he lingered with the salesgirls, gossiping about Jason and the other girls on the show. They made him try on dress after dress, complementing him on how sensational he looked as they searched for just the right one. When he finally left, laden down with packages, they gave him a standing ovation, clutching the autographs which he had written for them in a girlish hand.

One of his new outfits was laid out on the bed for him to wear that morning. He was going to meet with Hap to rehearse their plans for the upcoming meeting with Jason. Jan knew that the event would be a farce. In fact, he was counting on it. Something drastic would have to happen to throw his romance with Jason off the rails before it was too late. The spectacle of Hap Arnhold masquerading as his mother was just the thing.

Jan shampooed his hair and shaved his legs and underarms in the shower. He no longer needed to shave his face, another sign of his advancing femininity. After blow-drying his hair, he experimented to see if it was finally long enough to pull back into a ponytail. It was just the right length, so he fastened it with a scrunchie and tucked a few loose strands away with bobby pins. 

Jan hadn't had an erection since his last night with Becca, another worrying side effect from the hormones. He tucked his limp penis easily between his legs and stepped into a pair of panties, noticing with concern that the gaffe was no longer necessary. He was even more alarmed when he put on his Wonder bra, which was completely filled out by his emerging breasts.

Back to the bathroom, where he studied his face in the makeup mirror on the vanity. His eyebrows needed a bit of tweezing, which he took care of quickly, and then he moisturized his skin before applying his makeup. He was using less and less these days, sometimes just a little eyeliner and lipstick, although this morning he took his time and experimented with a different eye shadow and mascara. He brushed some blusher over his foundation, and finished off with a pink shade of lip gloss. His new look was softer than before, and very pretty.

He returned to the bedroom and surveyed the new clothes he had laid out for himself. A simple wool dress, which would come just to his knees and tie in the back with a bow. A black slip with a froth of lace at the hem. Black skimmer flats and tights. All for an off-camera meeting with his agent. What in the world was happening to him?

As he sat on the edge of the bed and slowly eased the delicate tights up his smooth legs, he was hopelessly torn. "Get out of here! Take off these ridiculous clothes and get off those hormones before it's too late!" part of him was shouting. But another voice, a seductive one, was saying, "This is so much fun, and it feels so good! C'mon now, be honest. Don't you love it?" As Jan shimmied into his slip and zipped up his new dress, he knew which voice was winning, and it terrified him. 

* * *

Becca's warm and wonderful family smothered Jason. Her mother gorged him with homemade pasta while her father kept his glass full of Chianti he'd made in the garage, and her four brothers one-upped each other with their knowledge of sports and rock groups. Becca sat with a stricken look on her face throughout the ordeal. By the time Jason finally escaped, he was totally exhausted

He had two old friends from college in Chicago, and he managed to slip away from his entourage to meet them at a sports bar on Clark Street. Unrecognizable in his Cubs hat and sunglasses, Jason slowly unwound as the guys caught him up on old times and ribbed him about his sudden notoriety.

"So who's it gonna be? The blonde or the brunette?" one of them asked.

"Come on, guys, I can't tell you that. It's in my contract."

"Hey, you can tell us. I bet it's the chick from Chicago. She's hot, man."

"My girlfriend tells me it's gonna be the blonde," the other one said. "She says you're like putty in her hands."

"Big step, bro," the first chimed in. "Which one of us gets to be the best man?"

"Get real. I'm not gonna marry anybody."

"Hey, time out. I thought that was the deal here. Aren't you supposed to propose to one of them?"

"Give me a break. That's just show business, guys." He said it as if they were two rubes wandering around Beverly Hills with maps, looking for the homes of the stars.

"I don't get it," one of them persisted. "Those are two great girls. Don't you want one of them?

"I'm a celebrity, dude. I can get any piece of ass in America." 

"Then how are you gonna get out of this?"

"I'll flip a coin, give one of the broads a rose, take her out a few times, and then split. No big deal."

* * *

Jan's brief meeting with Hap reassured him that there was no way he was going to win the competition. One look at Jan's "mother" in her fright wig and garish makeup would send Jason screaming into the night. 

Hap had managed to redecorate his small house off Laurel Canyon into domestic respectability, removing some of the more shocking artwork and hiding his live-in boyfriend at a friend's place for the duration. The same makeup artist who had presided over Jan's transformation, sworn once again to secrecy, had gone to work on Hap. The challenge had been to create a woman unrecognizable as Hap Arnhold, and in this he had succeeded beyond Hap's wildest expectations. The final product was a cross between Peg Bundy and Phyllis Diller on a bad hair day. At least Hap had shaved off his mustache.

Back at the Girls' House, Jan could tell from the look on Becca's face when she returned from Chicago that things had not gone well for her. Hesitantly, he knocked on her door, and when she opened it, it was obvious that she had been crying. She closed the door behind him and slumped down on the couch.

"You're in," she said. "My big fat Italian family blew it for me. All you gotta do is show up in a dress and pick up your rose."

Jan sat down beside her and started to laugh. Dressed in shorts and a baggy tee shirt, he looked like a girl, but it was a guy's laugh, deep and hearty. 

"Go ahead, yuk it up, you twerp. Wait till Jason finds out you're really a guy. Or have you decided to go all the way with this?"

Jan was no longer laughing. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about. Becca, I'm really worried."

"About losing this thing, or winning it?"

"I'm not talking about the damn show. I'm worried about what's happening to me. What you said was true. I'm becoming more and more like a girl, to the point where I can't even remember what it was like to be a guy. I can feel my old life slipping away, and it scares the hell out of me."

"Is that what you really want?"

"I don't know what I want anymore." Now Jan started to cry, real tears, and Becca held him as he started to shake uncontrollably. 

"It's okay, Jan, let it all out. Tell me how I can help you."

Jan knew the answer, but he was afraid to ask her. Not afraid of what she might say. Afraid of what he might find out.

"Come on, Jan, tell me. Please."

"It's not fair to you."

"You really are starting to think like a girl. Tell me what you want, dammit."

"I want you."

She leaned forward and kissed him, then she reached over and pulled off his tee shirt. Becca kissed him again, gently, while she started to unfasten his bra. As Jan responded to her, he thought he could feel himself becoming aroused. Miraculously, after months of estrogen therapy, his body still wanted hers, and as they played with each other's breasts, his manhood slowly stiffened. When he knew he was ready, he pushed her down and took her like a man.

They stayed in bed all afternoon, talking about anything but "The Bachelor". When Jan finally returned to his room, he washed the last of the premarin pills down the drain.

* * *

For slapstick comedy, nothing in the annals of network television can rival the madcap meeting between Jason and Jan's mother, Happy. As if there were a laugh track, one can actually hear the crews off camera breaking up as they tape the tumultuous segment. Jason's face is frozen in shock from start to finish.

Happy, dressed in black Capri pants and gold lamè slippers, greets Jan and Jason with bear hugs, her enormous breast forms wobbling inside her tight sweater. As she escorts Jason around her home, Jan can be seen holding his sides as Happy improvises about her daily routines as a stay-at-home mom. When they finally sit down to dinner, Happy gushes about Jan's girlhood, bragging about her daughter's prowess at ballet, figure skating, finger painting, ad nauseum. "Did you know that Jan sold more Girl Scout cookies than any Brownie in the history of Los Angeles? Imagine, competing against the children of the stars who sold cookies out of their limos! How I wish her dear father was here to see her now, bringing such a fine young man home for dinner. Another piece of fruit?"

Towards the end of the tape, as Jason backs towards the door, Happy tells him, "Don't believe what they say about daughters turning out like their mothers. My mother was a lovely woman, as delicate as the rose I just know you'll present to my precious Jan." Jason and Jan were speechless during the ride back in their limo. The network had to fill the rest of the episode with flashbacks to the early rounds of the competition.

* * *

The big day finally arrived. In order to minimize the possibility of a leak, the final rose ceremony was scheduled to take place a few hours before the episode aired on national television. There would be just enough time for the crew to edit the tape and tee it up for the network feed.

Jan was up early for a long jog before breakfast. Becca was nowhere to be seen. Jan had a quick bite in his shorts and sports bra before returning to his room to change, for the last time, into America's sweetheart. The tabloids were full of pictures of Jan and Becca, the popular consensus being that Jan had won Jason's heart on the Silver Bonito. Las Vegas odds makers favored Jan over Becca by 2-1, and office pools around the country gave him a clear edge.

Somehow the knowledge that this was the last time he would ever do this gave Jan bittersweet feelings as he put on his makeup. His blonde hair was long enough now to pin up, and he tied it into a French braid with the help of a few tips Becca had given him the night before. They were inseparable again, a strange combination of lovers and girlfriends, at least until the show ended. When Jan reported the calamity with his bogus mother, Becca had laughed until tears rolled down her cheeks, and when they made love that night, Jan knew that it would probably be for the last time. Tomorrow she would belong to Jason.

He took his time putting on his lingerie and stockings, savoring the sensations one last time. After he put on his dress and heels, he studied himself in the mirror as he reflected on the past few months. The girl looking back at him was a national celebrity now, admired and adored all over the country. He was going to miss her, but not as much as he had missed himself. In a few hours he was going to be Mr. Jan Peterson again, and he couldn't wait for it to happen.

* * *

Two separate limousines were waiting to take Becca and Jan to their reckoning with Jason in Palos Verdes. When Jan climbed into his, he found Andrea Messenger sitting on the long settee. 

"I've got to hand it to you, Jan," she said. "You've had a heck of a run."

"Sounds like you think my number is up."

"To be frank, I hope so. God knows how the country will react if you get the rose, let alone poor Jason."

"He's a big boy. And don't tell me you're really concerned about him. If you were, you would never have let it get this far."

"Maybe not. I don't think any of us expected you to make it this far, Jan. The question now is, how are we going to finish this."

"Isn't it up to Jason? Or have you already tipped him off?"

"Believe me, if it were up to me, we'd have already done it. But the powers that be are convinced that it would look worse for us if we rigged this fiasco. All we can do now is try to keep things from spinning out of control."

"What does that mean?"

"It means this: if Jason chooses Becca, you're going to go quietly into the night. The identity of the mystery man will be revealed at the very end of the broadcast, after Jason and Becca are safely on their way to paradise."

"And if he chooses me?"

"Then you're going to hand him back the rose, tell him you're really a guy, and get the hell off the stage."

"Yikes! What happens to me?"

"You get a nice check and thanks for the memories."

"How about Jason?"

"Like you said, he's a big boy."

* * *

Jan was shaking when the crew led him to a gazebo on the mansion grounds overlooking the Pacific Ocean. When Jason suddenly appeared, he had a sad smile on his face, and he started right in on his consolation speech. "Jan, you are an amazing woman, and this has been the hardest decision I ever had to make." Jan tuned Jason out as he rambled on with his memorized spiel, relieved beyond words that the ordeal was finally over.

When Jason was through, Jan kissed him on the cheek and left in a hurry. If the viewers thought he was heartbroken, so much the better. It would amplify the shock when his identity was exposed at the end of the show.

The drill was for Jan to speed off in his limousine before Jason handed Becca her rose, but for some reason he felt like sticking around. When the network staffers tried to urge him into the car, he backed them off with a few tart words. After all, he was still a celebrity, and they acquiesced when he told them he needed to get some air before heading back to the compound.

Meanwhile, Becca was waiting at the gazebo for Jason to make his entrance. When they kept her waiting for Jason to talk to Jan, she knew she must have won, and her emotions were a jumble of excitement, relief, and genuine happiness. 

Then Jason materialized with a rose in his hand, and she waited for him to tell her why he chose her. But as she listened to his well-rehearsed speech, professing his eternal love and devotion, it was clear to her that he hadn't even written it. He was reciting it like a catechism, empty words spoken with feigned emotion by a bad actor. 

As he neared the climax of his canned proposal, Jason got down on one knee, and Becca caught something out of the corner of her eye, moving in the distance over Jason's shoulder. It was Jan, walking slowly around the grounds, looking up at her in despair. Suddenly Becca knew what she had to do.

"What a crock," she said.

Jason stopped in mid-sentence, stunned. Andrea Messenger, standing beside one of the camera crews, looked like she might have a stroke at any moment. The silence was deafening.

"What did you say?" Jason finally asked. He looked helplessly over at Andrea. This was not in the script.

"I said, 'What a crock.' Get off the ground."

Jason stood up uncertainly and managed to ask, "What's going on?"

"I'm dumping you, Jason. You don't love me. And you know it."

Jason turned on her with sudden fury. "Screw you. I really wanted Jan anyway."

"Oh yeah? Well, get this: Jan is the guy."

"What?"

"She's a guy, you idiot! Your dream girl is a guy. And you're not getting him, because he's mine."

With that, she threw down her rose and started running across the lawn towards Jan, who was watching it all in disbelief. When he realized what was happening, he started running towards Becca, and when he caught her in mid-stride, he lifted her off the ground, spinning her around and around as he hugged her and kissed her. The cameras kept rolling as they raced across the lawn to Jan's limousine and scrambled inside. Jason stood rooted to the ground as they squealed down the driveway and disappeared.

* * *

LOS ANGELES: Last night's episode of "The Bachelor" was the most watched program in television history, according to data released by Nielsen analysts. The surprise finale, in which the winning contestant ran off with the runner-up, is reported to have enraged the program's sponsors, who have been besieged by complaints from around the country. Hollywood agent Hap Arnhold confirmed that Jan Peterson, the out-of-work actor who disguised himself as a woman to get into the series, has been swamped with movie and television offers. Andrea Messenger, executive producer of "The Bachelor", was not available for comment, and she is believed to have resigned from the network for personal reasons. 

* * *

One year later, Jan and a very pregnant Becca were enjoying a late Sunday breakfast beside the pool at their Beverly Hills estate. "Wow," Becca said, looking up from the book section of the Los Angeles Times. "Andrea Messenger's tell-all book about 'The Bachelor' is number one on the best seller list."

Jan put down the script he was reading and poured himself another cup of Kona coffee. "Good for her. How are my girls feeling this morning?"

Becca glowed with contentment. "I feel wonderful, and I'm sure your future daughter enjoyed the surprise visit from her Daddy last night."

"I just find you incredibly beautiful this way."

"Better get used to it. We're going to have a big Italian family."

"Believe me, it's going to be my pleasure keeping you pregnant."

"I knew you were a stud when you were able to get it up on estrogen." She laughed when he swatted her with the script. "What are you reading?"

Jan ran his fingers through his short blonde hair. "Hap sent me the screenplay for 'The Jessica Project'. You know, the story about an assassin who has to go undercover as a girl."

"I loved that book. You'd be perfect as Jessica."

"I don't know. I'm afraid of getting type-cast."

"It would be fun seeing you as a girl again. You can wear my clothes for the screen test. Can I help with your makeup?"

"Better watch it. Jason might come looking for me."

"According to this book review, he's working as a bartender somewhere in the Valley."

Jan reached back for the sweet voice that was destined to win him his first Academy Award. "Serves him right for dumping me."