Magic Dress - Alice Pt. 01

CHAPTER 1

"Erectile dysfunction? She can't get it up at all? Lucky bitch!"

It was an odd thing to hear. How could erectile dysfunction be good? And how could it be she?

I had been quietly drowning my sorrows. There were two women talking on the table to one side of me in the pub. I had not paid attention until those words leapt out at me.

One sighed.

"I told the doc it's the cock that's the problem, not the balls. If only I could lose my dick, I'd be fine. I took hormones, but it wasn't me. I wasn't randy at all, so there's no point. Just tuck 'em away, cut off the dick, and I'd be the happiest girl on earth. They'll cut off your balls no problem, but if the cock goes it has to be the full package!"

It didn't make sense. But somehow, deep down there was a message for me.

Though I was relatively young, I couldn't get it up at all. The latest doctor had put it down to nerve damage, or neuropathy as he called it. Possibly from the vibration or the disease I had suffered from abroad. Or both. High pay for a shitty job, but at what cost?

I was still randy as fuck. But that's no good if you get off with a girl and can't follow through!

I had actually been put on some kind of medication, but it didn't work very well, and made me feel very flushed, so the doctor said better not. I had hoped the new clinic would have a magic answer. If anything, it was worse. Nerve damage meant I had lost function and feeling. Things that would never return.

If I had a wife, I could get strapon to satisfy her. But it's not much to offer on a date.

So now I was relying on alcohol.

And it was the alcohol which made me actually turn to them to speak.

They were two women, not too young. Or were they? There was something I couldn't put my finger on. The one on the right was wearing a short tight skirt and lowcut top. The one on the left was in a blue dress just about knee length.

"Sorry, love. You're not my type," said the one in the skirt, smoothing down her skirt, then passing a hand up over her breast on the way to patting her hair. A taunting come-on if I'd ever seen one.

She took a careful sip of her drink, and ostentatiously turned to look at her friend.

"What do you know about erectile dysfunction?" I (or rather the alcohol) said.

"My greatest dream, sweetie," she answered without looking at me.

The one in the blue dress slapped her hand playfully.

"He's just a bit drunk," she said, then her face fell and she turned to me.

"Sorry, if it's the wrong pronoun! Are you here for the parade?"

"What's good about erectile dysfunction?" I insisted.

"Makes the clothes fit better, sweetie, and saves embarrassment when you're trying to pull," said the one in the skirt.

"But sorry, I prefer my men big and hairy -- no offence."

I stood up swaying. The one in the blue dress got up, and put a hand on my shoulder.

"We'd better get you home. I'll call you a taxi. Where are you staying?"

I handed her the hotel booking form. She looked at it and frowned.

"Have you actually booked in?"

Shit! I had just gone from the clinic to the pub. It was late.

She phoned the hotel.

"Sorry love, they've let your room. There's a lot of demand tonight," was the message. I swayed as she thought.

"Oh no!" said the one in the skirt. "Not another of your waifs and strays! Well good luck with him or her, because I am going out to get seriously shagged!"

I found myself stumbling along, helped by a woman in a blue dress.

CHAPTER 2

It was all a bit vague, but I woke up with a splitting headache on a sofa. My shoes, jacket and trousers had been removed, and I had been sick on my shirt.

Some coffee, paracetamol and toast helped, and we were introduced.

"I'm Charlotte and my mate is Anne."

"Pleased to meet you. I'm Ellis. Did you pick up my bag?" I asked. The answer was no. It must have been left in the pub.

She told me to have a shower and she would try and find something for me.

In the bathroom I found Anne in a nightdress, shaving her chin. Without makeup, her face looked a bit like a man. The big breasts rather contradicted this.

"Don't mind me, darling," she said. "I've seen everything."

Hesitantly, I took off my clothes, and got in the shower, while Anne started on her makeup. She continued without a glance as I dried myself, and wrapped the towel around my waist.

"New toothbrush," she said, nodding towards one still in its packet in a glass. "We get plenty of gentlemen visitors, so have a stock. You can use Charlotte's shaver, beside it."

She stepped to one side and continued to do complicated things around her eyes as I cleaned my teeth and shaved.

I went back into the living room and Charlotte called me to a bedroom. There was a green dress and some underwear on the bed.

"I think you're about my size," she said. "So these might fit you until the pub opens."

I was puzzled. But something else. Intrigued?

"Let me help you with your bra."

Why I didn't protest, I will never know. A padded bra was put on, and I obediently stepped into some green silk panties.

Then the dress.

The strange feeling became something else. I was relaxed. The miserable man obsessing about his soft cock was gone.

"That's a big smile!" came the comment. "I think Auntie Charlotte hit the spot!"

I was in a sort of trance. I had no idea what was going on, but was afraid if I said anything I would wake up. Charlotte was rabbiting on, asking questions and not waiting for answers.

"If you don't mind, I'll give the makeup that I like with this dress. OK? I only wear it when I'm not on the pull. I call it my lady time. Just nice and feminine. Now sit here and rest your fanny."

"Anne likes to hide her dick, and have men accept her as a really hot girl. I don't like that at all. My dick is part of the attraction, and I'm very upfront about it, if you see what I mean. But I've got a few clothes like this that don't show it, and I can pretty well pass, which is nice as well."

I didn't understand. At least I sort of did, and it sounded unusually reasonable, which was puzzling in itself.

Try not to wake up!

Anne came into the room, in a pink dressing gown half open. She had strong makeup, like for a serious night out, and a nice pair of tits.

And a shaved cock and balls.

He/she looked at me carefully.

"Ooh, much better than last night! She looked so sour then! And I know what you're going to ask for, just a minute."

She came back with a wig.

"Thanks, love," said Charlotte.

"I don't know why we call it my wig," remarked Anne as she fitted me. "It only ever goes out when Charlotte wears that green dress. We should call it Emily's wig. Now walk around a bit, and let's see you."

"The dress is called Emily," said Charlotte, as I paraded. "We bought it in Haworth. You know, Emily Brontë?"

I shook my head.

"Never mind. Well, you obviously know the score in drag, so I apologise for my faux pas last night. Have you been on the parade before?"

"No," I said. "What parade?"

"The Pride Parade, of course! All things gender diverse and playful. If you really didn't know, why did you come into a gay pub?"

"It was the nearest one to the clinic."

"Oh, the clinic. How are you getting on? Is it hormones, or are you going for surgery?"

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about. If you must know, I came in to find a cure for my erectile dysfunction to be told it was impossible. That's why I was drowning my sorrows."

"So are you gay, or trans then?" she said

"No, I'm fucking not!"

"And you didn't know anything about the parade?"

"I told you, I still don't understand what you're talking about!"

"Sorry, we must be at cross-purposes here. Why do you call yourself Alice, and why exactly are you wearing a dress and makeup?"

"It's not Alice, it's Ellis," I said, "E-L-L-I-S, and..."

What the fuck?

"I don't know about the dress," I said. "I just went along with it. I've never done it before."

"Sit down, before you fall down, love," she said in a concerned manner, helping me onto the sofa.

I started crying, and told her about losing my manhood and how unhappy I had been.

Anne came back in a bra and panties, holding up two garments. Her cock seemed to have gone.

"What do you think?" she said. "Hot pants or the leather skirt? Oh, what's up?"

"We got it all wrong," said Charlotte. "It's Ellis, not Alice. He wasn't here for the parade, and doesn't want to be a girl, and I forced him into a dress. Stupid, stupid Charlotte."

"Hang on a tick," said Anne, and hurried off, coming back very soon.

"Look love, here are your trousers and a plain T-shirt. Just get out of the dress and clean your face, and we'll get you all sorted."

She started to help me.

And I realised I didn't want to be helped.

"No thanks, I'll keep the dress for a while."

All three of us were baffled.

"Leather skirt," said Charlotte.

"Right," said Anne. "I'll just finish, and we'd better get a move on."

Charlotte held my hand.

"Do you mind if we go to the parade? We'll see if the pub's got your bag and come right back afterwards. Only a couple of hours. Help yourself to anything."

"OK," I said. "But could you fix my makeup first?"

I don't know why I said it. It just seemed like a good idea at the time.

She wiped and painted me up again, more quickly this time, then hurried off to finish herself, as I wandered around in a dream. I wasn't worried about sex any more. I was just a girl in a nice dress. So different from trousers. So much better.

I put on my shoes.

The girls came back.

"You do look nice," said Anne.

"You too," I said. "And you, Charlotte. You've been very kind."

"Well, look after yourself," said Charlotte.

"Can I come too?" I asked.

CHAPTER 3

We walked along, three girls together. Everywhere was decorated with rainbows, and there were people in all sorts of costumes going in the same direction as us. I didn't care where we were going. It was just nice to be out in the sunshine with my friends.

We walked up to a square and then went along the streets with a massive crowd of people, some in quite ordinary clothes, some in quite outrageous ones or almost none at all. There were signs for groups, but the parade was more a happy mêlée than a formal display. There were crowds on the pavement to cheer us along, often family groups. It was just a colourful happy time and I was glad to be in the middle. There was music and some people were dancing, plus the smell of food from shops and stalls.

My two companions were greeting friends and making remarks. It ended in a sort of sea of people, informally getting together in groups, and either making their way determinedly towards some special place, or wandering around. Anne was talking closely with two hairy men and blew us a kiss as she went off.

Charlotte took me to the pub, where they had my bag, but didn't recognise me. Knowing her and the dress, they accepted her explanation, and we made our way back through the busy streets.

"I'm sorry if I'm keeping you from, you know, like Anne."

"Don't worry, Emily, dear. There'll be plenty more. We'll get you sorted, and work from there."

I realised she had called me by the name of the dress.

"Why Emily?" I asked as we walked along.

"It's the Brontë sisters," she said. "Nineteenth century authors. Charlotte, Emily and Anne. I used to be Charles and Anne used to be Andrew. We adopted them as our girl names, and when I bought the dress in Haworth where they used to live, she became an honorary sister. Sorry, just force of habit."

"It's OK," I said. "Nice, in fact."

Back at her flat I opened the bag: it was all there, with a spare shirt.

"Great," said Charlotte. "Do you want to change now, and see if you can get a train home, or stay the night, and go back tomorrow?"

"Stay over, please, and can I wear the dress a bit longer?"

She shrugged.

"Of course."

Over tea and sandwiches, she told me about their life and I began to talk about mine.

She couldn't explain why she had assumed I would like wearing a dress, other than the fact that she knew lots of men who did, and it had seemed so obvious. There must have been something about me that she saw but I didn't know myself. Then when she thought I was Alice, that confirmed it.

"Let's be frank," she said. "Me and Anne are two kinky men. We both wanted tits and we like to be treated like women by men. But we're still men. Chicks with dicks."

"Obviously we got implants. As you may have heard, but probably didn't understand, Anne would love to get rid of her cock, but they won't do it unless they take the balls. She's got this thing about having a female crotch, so she tucks them away so it looks as if she hasn't got any, in tight skirts or pants."

"She loves having men come onto her not knowing. She sucks or tosses them off, which is fine. But if they want to fuck, she has to tell them. About half go through with it."

"I'm different. I like men who like my cock as well as my tits and ass. I don't mind being called a shemale. There's a surprising number who sort of feel it's OK to suck me off because I've got tits so they're not really gay. I've got about half a dozen regular boyfriends, and a few occasional ones. At least three of them are married. I like being fucked and I like fucking, but I only do it with men."

"What about you love?" she asked, stroking my cheek. "What do you want to do now? Have you got to get back to work on Monday?"

I shook my head.

"I've finished a contract abroad, so I've got a bit of money. I'm just renting a room, so I could look for work here, I guess."

Maybe it wasn't what she meant.

"If you don't mind, I'll just change now," she said, and started getting undressed.

But she didn't change, she just stood naked in front of me.

Nice face, very nice tits.

Nice cock and balls.

"You're beautiful," I whispered.

As I stared, her cock which, was already half hard, began to rise a little.

"You can have a feel, if you like," she said quietly. "Anywhere."

I just stared and the cock got bigger.

"Please," she said, "have a feel."

I stared at the cock and felt something inside me. Not an erection, of course, but definitely a sense of excitement.

I had of course looked up about erectile dysfunction. The Wikipedia page on erection led to Wikimedia Commons and pictures of the erect human penis. Somehow, I had been fascinated by seeing other cocks. It was a bit like scratching an itch. It was sort of painful, but you can't leave it alone. Then there were GIFs of ejaculations -- even more bittersweet. A sort of joy with seeing the happy cock mixed with the sadness of knowing I would never see my own like that again.

Now here was one just in front of my face, and looking up, there were some nice boobs and the smiling face of a woman.

"Please," she said, and I reached out my hand and held it. She moaned a little, and I cupped her balls.

It was magic to see and feel it swelling in my hand, and the knob started to peek out of the foreskin. And somehow my own inability did not make me resent the pleasure that this cock was feeling.

Without conscious thought, I started massaging it gently, and could feel a smile on my face at the achievement as it grew big and firm. Glancing up, I saw Charlotte smiling down.

"Would you suck it, please?" she begged so quietly, and without hesitation I put my mouth around the knob. A brand-new feeling, but one that seemed exactly right.

Soon I was licking and sucking and stroking, and received a little burst of happiness as it came in my mouth! The cum was not unpleasant as I had always supposed. Just a bit of thick liquid, quite natural and human. It was what the cock wanted, and I was glad to have done it.

And hearing Charlotte's groan, I was particularly glad that I had done it to her.

"Wow!" she said, after a while, and carefully withdrew her cock. She grabbed a tissue and wiped it, then bent down to kiss me. I saw her boobs hanging down and instinctively raised my hands to cup them. They were nice, as boobs always are.

"I think I'd like to do a bit more of this," I said.

That was the answer to the question she had really asked.

CHAPTER 4

When Anne returned, Charlotte and I had already shared a shower. I loved the feeling of her body as I soaped it all over. Not just her boobs and genitals, all over. She made me spend some time stroking between her bum cheeks, running my finger over the little pucker. I was maybe a bit surprised that it was nice when she did it to me.

We both had fresh makeup and new clothes. The new dress showed a little bit of a bulge, but it didn't matter since we were at home.

Things had really crystallized for me. It was 24 hours since I was a morose man sitting in a pub and failing to get comfort from alcohol. Now I was -- what? Well, someone who was happy in a dress and makeup, who was not worried about their own genitals, but had discovered that it can be quite enjoyable to make someone else's cock come. He or she? What was the right pronoun?

Whatever you call it, this was a way of life I wanted to try.

Ann and Charlotte had a quick confab in the kitchen.

"Well Ellis, you are a dark horse! Charlotte tells me you've had a lovely time, but there's one little thing I need to help you with. Just bear with me, and see if we can put you right."

I noticed she didn't call me Emily. That was the name of the dress, and I sort of understood.

"Why don't you call me Alice?" I said. "Some boys did at school, but now I quite like it."

She put her head on one side.

"Me too," she said. "Suits you."

She had a pair of plain panties, quite substantial, which she got me to put on instead of the pretty ones I was wearing.

"It's elastic. Just like this it flattens your front, see?"

I could.

"But we can do better than that. Give me a moment and I'll demonstrate on myself."

She went away to the bathroom. I heard a slight ripping sound. In a short while she came back, her cock and balls on display. She slightly crouched with knees apart, and demonstrated how she could push her balls up into her body, and tuck her cock backwards between her legs.

"All you have to do is to get the gaff up, and it holds you in place. Just try it."

So it was called a gaff?

It felt odd, and my balls kept popping out, but eventually I caught them both. In the panties, my male bits had vanished, and there was no bulge on the dress. I smoothed myself as girls sometimes do to draw attention to their groin.

"There you are Alice, girl. Bob's your uncle, and Annie's your aunt!" she said, for some reason.

I was definitely amused. No cock was better than a floppy one.

I was advised to try it for a while and take it off if it felt uncomfortable at any time, and anyway when I needed a pee.

That night I was invited to sleep with Charlotte. I had a nice nightdress, and we kissed and cuddled.

She stroked my face.

"Don't get your hopes up too much. Anne and me just want variety. You can suck me off sometimes and I'll probably fuck you eventually, but I will never be just with one person."

I lay there thinking about the idea that I was going to be fucked, and couldn't explain how I felt about it. In a while she spoke again.

"Actually, the truth is that I love Anne, and she loves me. We only have sex with other people, but we're partners for life."

CHAPTER 5

The next day I was got ready in another outfit. They lived as women and had jobs. Charlotte was a supervisor in a warehouse, and took the bus, while Anne worked in an insurance office nearby, so I walked with her. I was wearing the gaff, but not tucked back, which was good enough for the skirt I was wearing. I had been lent a handbag.

She bid me goodbye at the door, and I was suddenly frightened. What if people saw what I was? What would they do? Jeer? Swear? Hit me?