My Neighbor’s Secret Plan

by James J Craft

  I frowned.

  She kept stealing glances of me as she maneuvered through town, “I can’t wait until Denise sees you. She’s gonna freak-out!” She chuckled while turning the car into the parking lot of a very high-end medical complex.

  “Well?,” she said very matter-of-factly as she stopped the car in front of the front door, “Don’t just sit their sissy….”

  I scowled at her then exited the car.

  A pretty receptionist greeted me at the front entrance, introducing herself as Sherry. When she stepped out from behind her desk to take me to my interview, I got full view of her lithe body wrapped in a tight mini-dress, black stockings and high heeled shoes. Her hips and rear were impossible not to stare at, and her flowing auburn hair cascaded down her back in a shimmering mass of amber. Sherry…in short…was a knock out.

  On our way to our final destination, we must have passed at least two or three more beauties in similar dress to Sherry’s – all of whom smiled and waved to me as we walked on.

  It was more than apparent that the doctor’s staff were also some of his best clients.

  At the end of the hall, I was shown into an office, where an older man in a silvery-grey suit, with a matching beard and hair, welcomed me and offered me a chair. As I sat, I could feel him giving me

  ‘the once over’ with his eyes, which I suppose was typical for a first interview.

  He introduced himself as Doctor Conrad, and asked me why I wanted to have breast augmentation.

  I opened my mouth to reply, but nothing came out. The truth was, that I didn’t want to have breast augmentation; it was all my wife’s idea. But I was certain that he already knew that.

  “Well?” the Doctor asked again, leaning forward against his desk.

  “Well Doctor,” I began, “I’m not sure what my wife may have told you but it really isn’t my idea…”

  “Oh?” he interjected, “Glen…I was of the impression that you wanted this…actually that you needed this” he paused for a moment, the serious look on his face melting into a cocky smile,

  “Unless, of course, you really want your wife to release certain photos of you to your friends and relatives.”

  “How did…you…” I stammered, realizing my wife had already prearranged everything to happen exactly as she wanted.

  Doctor Conrad smiled at my comment, “Denise and I are very good friends, and I understand that her and your wife are good friends too.”

  I nodded.

  “I would have thought that Christine would have told you that” he chuckled.

  “Um…. who? ” I replied.

  “Christine…your neighbor.”

  I paused for a moment to think about who I knew in the neighborhood who’s name was Christine that he would have been referring to, but after scratching my head for a moment, it popped in…. Chris.

  He handed me an appointment card, “Well that’s too bad Gwen, if you thought you had a choice in the matter, that is. Your appointment is for a week Tuesday, be sure to be get a good night sleep before you come dear.” He winked as I took the card from him hesitantly.

  Doctor Conrad then stood up and came around to the front of the desk where he leaned forward and

  ‘air-kissed’ each of my cheeks, “We’ll see you next week Gwen,” he said as he patted my butt with a firm ‘smack’, then pointed to the door politely.

  I turned and headed for the exit, my heeled shoes clicking as I exited the building. Julie was grinning from ear to ear as she leaned against the car waiting, “Well?”

  I just scowled and looked away. She already knew what the outcome was. She had prearranged it.

  I had no choice in the matter.

  -*-

  The next day after work, I dialed up Chris to see what he was up to. At first I didn’t recognize his voice when he answered, as it sounded much higher and sweeter then usual. He told me that Denise was working late in the city, and offered that I could join him for dinner. Since Julie was also working late, I agreed and headed over.

  I was still wearing my work-clothes with a minimal amount of makeup when I entered Chris’s house, but couldn’t find him anywhere. I looked all over the place until I heard a sexy voice call from behind me, “Hi Gwen?”

  I turned and saw the source of the voice. A lovely woman wearing a snug fitting deep black colored – strapless – cocktail dress, that showed just a hint of her smooth luscious legs that ended in dainty, strappy white leather heels, four-and-a-half inches tall followed on her feet.

  Her short blonde hair had been straightened, and was styled in an attractive feminine do. Her makeup was minimal, yet ever-present, with smooth flawless skin, gently highlighted with pale pink lips and soft blush, with eyelined eyes that seemed wider and brighter than I can recall them being.

  The dress was snug enough to show swollen globes of flesh on her chest, and her face was carefully made up to look very sexy, but not over-done. She was vaguely familiar, until my mind began to fill in the blanks.

  “Chris?”

  My mouth fell open…My macho buddy had been replaced with a sexy, curvy young woman.

  We had been moved to different areas of the office at work a few weeks ago, and hadn’t seen each other in several days. I had to do a double take, and look him over again, just to be sure it was him. He had developed a very feminine set of hips, accented by either a very thin waist – or very

  plump buttocks – or both! His hair was slightly longer then I remembered it being and styled in a straight girly style. I realized that I staring at him as he approached me.

  “You might as well start calling me Christine now Glen…” he chuckled, dodging the question, then turned his voice to a girlish giggle, “or Crissy.” I noticed how glossy his lips were and how well defined and his bushy brows had been thinned into graceful arches, his lashes were longer and darker too.

  We sat at the table and ate, while Chris told me stories about some of the outfits that Denise was making him wear and the lingerie he had to wear underneath it.

  “Lingerie?” I interjected after listening for a time, “But you’re a guy…doesn’t it creep you out??”

  He giggled in his high girly Christine giggle, “Well…” he began, pausing as if trying to regain his train of thought, looking around as if he thought he was being watched, then he leaned in and lowered his voice to a whisper, “Denise blackmailed me to go this far…you think I wanted to get breast implants? You think I wanted to wear lingerie? You think I like being a sissy-girl?”

  I looked shocked by his sudden change of tone, “I thought that you were on-board with this? I thought you liked it.”

  He shook his head and sighed, “I don’t know…I’m all mixed up. Denise keeps leading me along.

  On one hand telling me to do it or she’ll blackmail me , on the other hand telling me how happy she is that I’m becoming a girl. It’s messing me up. Some days I almost think I like it, but then I think to myself…I’m a guy! This can’t be happening to me!”

  I watched his eyes start to well up with tears and leaned forward to offer him a hug. I felt terrible for him…and for me, since I was feeling similar things. There was something undeniably sexy about skirts and heels, and I was starting to become quite good and my hair and makeup

  application, but at the same time…for me to be thinking of wearing it…and liking it…it was so wrong!

  I felt tears forming in my own eyes as I looked into Chris’, and he into mine. What the hell is the matter with us?? My mind was racing, by hear pumping…as I leaned slowly forward to let Chris’

  lips gently come into contact with my own. I saw his mascaraed lashes flutter, and heard his mouth release an excited ‘sigh’, and realized I was on the verge of the same.

  Chris…or rather Christine…returned the kiss with ‘her’ soft lips and for a moment I truly forgot that she was in fact my once-manly neighbor. Time seemed to stand still, as our lips connected.

  The moment was broken by the sound of the
phone. It was Denise. Chris nodded as he spoke to her.

  “Yes Ma’am. Yes Ma’am. Of course Ma’am. Yes Ma’am. Thank you Ma’am.”

  He hung up the phone and turned back

  “Where were we?” he smiled as he leaned back in for another kiss.

  I was helpless to resist. It had been so long since I had had any attention from Julie, that it didn’t seem to matter that it was my guy-turned girl-friend next door that I was kissing. I was into it.

  “Go ahead and touch them Gwen,” Christine said in a sexy purring voice…motioning at her breasts.

  I just shook my head, “Oh no…I ….”

  “No-no…really,” She interrupted, “Feel them…they’re perfect.”

  I looked at him…her…looking unsure. She thrust them out, as if insisting that I touch them, and nodded her head, “Gwyneth,” she said in an authoritative tone, “Miss Denise gave me an

  instruction. She wants me to be touched by you. Please help me”

  She leaned forward and kissed me again.

  “Oh…I’m not so sure…” I whined, but Chrissy was insistent.

  “Pleeeeeease” she whispered in my ear before nibbling on it seductively.

  I blushed obediently reached my hand forward to touch the waiting breast. It felt as good as it looked.

  I looked at Chris hesitantly, but was surprised by her reaction.

  She was turned on by it, “Mmmmm,” she cooed, “Unzip me.”

  I was nervous that this was going to go in a direction that I couldn’t return from.

  Chris averted her eyes as I reached behind her and undid her dress. The material spilled away from her shoulders exposing the tops of her breasts to me.

  “Mmmmm,” she smiled, “touch my nipples Gwen”

  With her ‘in-control’ tone of voice in my head I slowly looked into my feminized neighbor’s painted eyes and began to roll the end of his…her left nipple between my fingertips. She reacted just as any woman would, and gasped slightly, parting her lips and closing his eyes. A low moan escaped her mouth as I continued.

  “Now kiss them”

  The order was clear and the wording was specific. Kiss them. I realized that Chris and I might well be on the verge of some kind of point of no return, and as much as I wanted no part in pushing us further, when the instruction was repeated again …”Kiss them”…I had no option but to obey.

  I leaned in and kissed one nipple and breast, then the other. It felt just like any other womanly breast. Maybe, in fact, better.

  Chris moaned as I kissed her bosom all over, then gave a little suckle on her nipple again. I could see that she was pleased.

  And I was turned on. It was the most sexual contact I had had in months…and clearly it was the same for Chris.

  But eventually our sensibilities returned, and I helped my effeminate neighbor zip himself back up.

  We made a pact that it had been a mistake to kiss…and that we would never, ever tell another soul….especially our wives.

  -*-

  The next day, after much coercion from our wives, and by coercion, I of course mean that we were essentially blackmailed…both Chris and I complacently asked our supervisors to be reconsidered to partake in the ‘Trans-Gender Fashion Advisory Group’ that we had at first rejected the idea of participating in. The group met later that same day, and after happily welcoming us in, we met in the conference room to offer our opinions on different outfits and shoes.

  Apparently the company believed transgendered persons to be a major market, with more than a million estimated cross-dressers and T-girls in America, and when you factored in the ones who were still ‘in the closet’ plus men like Chris and I that were being forced or blackmailed into being girly by our wives...the numbers were predicted to be double.

  I was completely floored by the idea of a million men who, like me and Chris, were being made to dress and act as women.

  The next day, we continued to participate in the group’s dialogue…this time regarding the early photo shoots that the marketing department had done. The images were all of beautiful women…

  beautiful…real…genetic women, wearing the kind of flashy, kinky outfits that our firm predicted the TG market would like.

  Midway through the meeting, our marketing director removed his glasses, and rubbed his eyes.

  “They’re nice…beautiful in fact,” he began as he sifted through the photos a second time, “But I just don’t know if it will be real enough. The research we’ve done so far suggests that this target market is savvy, they see through things…” he pointed at the images, “And if they think that something is bogus, they’ll avoid it like the plague.”

  One of the other marketing execs in the room looked over at Chris and I, “What do you guys…” he paused, looking embarrassed to call us guys, as we were both wearing girly pant suits…then continued, “er…you two think?”

  Chris glanced at me, then we both turned and stared blankly back at the group, “Us?”

  “Yeah,” the Director said, “You’re our target market…would you believe that these girls in here…”

  he pointed at the images, “are T-girls?”

  I sighed. What loaded question if I ever heard one.

  “Um,” I began…but Chris was less eloquent.

  “No…” he blurted out, “They’re way to fake looking to be real.”

  I wanted to smack him in the head for being too forthright in his opinion. I had an inkling that I knew where the director was going with this…and a moment later he would prove my suspicions to be true.

  “Ah-ha!” he said, “I knew it. There’s no way our market will buy into this…we need real

  Transgendereds!”

  Transgendereds? I thought to myself, Is that even a word?

  The Director turned back to Chris and I, “Girls…” he began, “I’m assuming you like to be called girls…” Chris and I shrugged at each other then turned back to the head of Marketing, “I’d like to offer you the opportunity to represent your people…and…if you would be so inclined…be our

  spokesmodels.”

  I gasped.

  I knew that Julie would kill me if I declined the offer…and was certain a similar fate would await Chris if he turned the offer down too.

  In short…we were screwed.

  We both sighed and turned back to the director with a forced smile, “Sure!” we lied, “We’d love to!”

  -*-

  Later that day we broke the news to our wives that we would be the new models in the campaign to market the firm’s new line of TG friendly clothes. Both Julie and Denise were predictably ecstatic.

  I concluded that it was more the idea of their ‘girls’ dressing up and being photographed than anything else that got them excited. It was a forgone conclusion that neither of us had a choice in such matters any more.

  My first gig as a TG Supermodel began promptly the next morning. I had arrived in the office in my typical black pants and pinkish top, but was hurried into an unused office which was standing in as a dressing room to be ‘Trans-Formed’.

  That was the joke that my Marketing Director had made… “Get it?” he said, “Trans-Formed?”

  Once inside my ‘dressing room’ a very kind stylist began by asking me to strip down to my panties.

  She then affixed a very tight waist cincher around my midsection. The tortuous device forced me to move and breath very slowly…which was fine since I had no-where I needed to run to. The

  adjacent boardroom would serves as a makeshift photo studio.

  I was then dressed in a body hugging, low cut pale pink minidress, with smooth white stay-up stockings that ended in towering five-inch platform heels in the same color as my skimpy dress.

  Matching bracelets, earring and a thin choker finished my accessories.

  My nails were re-done…with quarter inch acrylic tips painted in a pink tone that matched the skirt, before the stylish began to work on my face. She smooth out a base of pale found
ation, followed by loose powder than began to work on my eyes, curling the long fake lashes that had just been glued to my eyelids and coating them in black mascara. She then lined my eyes and eyebrows in black

  and filled in my eyelids with bright pink shadow before applying bold pink blusher to my cheeks.

  The stylist then carefully filled in my lips with a lush pale pink color.

  She moved back to inspect her work, then turned me towards the mirror. “Well Gwen,” she said as I looked at the sexy brown-haired beauty with a killer curvy body that was staring back at me with a terrified expression.

  “Oh my gawd!” I gasped, “This is our target audience??”

  The stylist shrugged, “I don’t know…I’m a real girl.

  I turned back to the mirror with a stunned expression.

  What had I become??

  The stylist let me have a few moments before snapping me out of my trance.

  “We really should be going,” she said finally, “We’ve got a lot to do today”

  I was escorted down the hall to a make-shift studio in the conference room. I spotted Chris from across the room in a deep purple gown with a corset-style top. He didn’t recognize me at first, but when he finally did, he smiled and giggled girlishly, “Oh-my-god Gwen you look amazing!”

  “Indeed,” the marketing Director eyed us up like a wolf eyes up it prey, “You both look terrific. I think this is going to be a great shoot”

  So dressed as two ‘tarty’ T Girls, Chris and I posed for the camera all afternoon long, acting as girly as our wives had trained us to, and changing into many different versions of the same skimpy outfits.

  It was, admittedly…a little bit more fun than being a lowly office clerk, and certainly more than a little fun to see the other boys in the office eyeing us up as we went from our ‘change-rooms’ to the board room to be photographed.

  But I swore that I would never admit that to my wife.

  I couldn’t give her that kind of power over me.

  I returned home that night to find that (thankfully) Julie wasn’t yet home from work. I stripped out of my outfit, showered off my makeup and hair care products. I couldn’t chance her seeing me as I was for the photo shoot…it just be too humiliating.