Tranford Wives Pt. 02



I was just basking in the feeling of femininity and my new friends when I realised that I had never had dinner with Maisie. Some friend I was! Of course, Liz and Sophie invited her and Bill, and asked if David should come, but I said no. (I did not want the complication.)

I was used to Maisie in her overalls at work, so was a bit taken aback how nice she looked, and how very feminine she acted. Bill I knew, though not so well. He was a muscular man, quite good looking and in a smart suit. He was a real gentleman to Liz and Sophie, but there was no doubt he was flirting with me, which was puzzling, embarrassing and (I was ashamed to say) a bit exciting. He took my hand across the table, and touched me a few times accidentally. He made some near the knuckle remarks and looked at me with half a smile. In parting he held me and kissed me quickly on the mouth! (For Liz and Sophie, it was respectfully on the cheek.)

“It’s been very nice meeting you, Chloe,” he said looking straight in my eyes, before winking.

When he had gone, Liz said “Well he was something, wasn’t he? Cute, though!”

And Sophie added “You’ve definitely got an admirer, Chloe.”

When I next saw Maisie, she drew me to one side.

“I hope you weren’t upset by Bill. I’m afraid it’s down to me. I think he’s handsome, and I like it when he flirts. He always gives me a good seeing-to afterwards, which we both appreciate. Sorry to be crude, but I do like being a woman in that way. You don’t have to: there’s lots happy without it. But I do think you’d enjoy having a pair of these.”

She jiggled hers, as she does. She must enjoy them herself.

“Why don’t you talk to Sophie about it? If you want to be more than a part-timer, that is.”

It got me thinking. I still couldn’t imagine actually being fucked, but it was always a disappointment taking off my bra. I decided to ask Sophie.

“Well,” she said, “the way you’ve been going I think you won’t be satisfied just with the clothes part-time. We could certainly make a start on basic gender change, and get you on a waiting list for implants.”

I sensed there was a but coming. There was.

“But in my opinion (and I’m not a doctor) I think you should try self-build first. That’s what the NHS recommends.”

I had no idea what she meant.

“It means you convince a doctor and a psychologist that you really want to be female, and then you take hormones. Your male bits are likely to shrink and you should get fat on your hips and chest. For some it’s enough and for a few there are quite large breasts. I think it’s genetic. If you had a sister you would probably get something a bit smaller than hers, otherwise your mother and your dad’s mother would be an indicator.”

“If not, you can have implants at any time. You’ll have to pay for them of course, but the hormones will be on the NHS.”

I will just say that it took a while to convince the doctors, and it took a while for the medication to have an effect. First of all, there were side-effects, but they settled down. Fortunately, I was in the midst of people who had been through it, and supported me.

The biggest change was actually hard to pin down. I felt calmer, better. I knew I had made the right choice. And sex did not matter. Sophie said that was my testosterone going down, which removed some stress. There was a limit to how much my body could change, but I was softer. I was also noticeably weaker at work. Things I would have lifted without a thought now took an effort, but in a strange way I liked it.

And I needed a new perfume. I don’t know how it was chosen, but I liked it.

The first flats were ready, but I decided I preferred to stay with Liz and Sophie who were more like parents to me. And yes, Sophie was a dad, though a dad in a dress. Maybe it was the hormones as well as gratitude, but I think I loved them in this wayas parents, and they treated me a bit like a daughter.

Bill and Maisie moved into a flat, just in time to beat theavoid winter in the little caravan.


David’s new office and home were finished, so he moved in just in time for us to have the community centre for a Christmas party. There was a footpath through to the original houses, but traffic still had to go round. They had found a caretaker, a 60-year old man widower called Bernie who had been crossdressing in private, and who was delighted to be able to live that way. (He didn’t want to be a woman – he just liked feminine outfits and makeup.) He had put up old-fashioned Christmas decorations, even including some paper chains made by volunteers.

Liz had made him a French maid outfit, and he was happy going round serving.

My best Christmas present was actually having something to put in my bra! Not a lot, just the smallest cup, but me!

For the occasion I had a couple of what were popularly known as ‘chicken fillets’, little silicone pads to go in the bra and give a bit more volume. Liz had made me a new dress, to show off my new figure. (I also had a shaper to give me a bit more waist. Nothing severe, just a little help. Pretty standard in this community, I was told.) I could manage in high heels now.

It was a lovely gentle gathering of husbands and wives. The Tranford wives generally looked what I might call respectable middle-class as they went about their lives, especially going to work in town. Pretty dresses, but tasteful, nothing too short or revealing. Now, however, the skirts were short and the tops were tight or low, and the makeup full-on. It was a party and they were women showing off! I was happy that I had overcome my former blindness to such things, and enjoyed not just my own outfits, but those of my new friends both in everyday life and on an occasion such as this. Maisie had a very low-cut dress with her bust prominently on display, of course!

A littleThere was drink food and fooddrinks, but mainly music (not too loud), conversation and in a while, dancing. I could see that everyone knew more than just how to shake to club music. Liz and Sophie danced with several of the husbands, and David. I had several offers, but regretted that I had not learned, so sat and watched.

Then Bill came up and took me by the hand and pulled me up.

“Take your shoes off,” he ordered, and for some reason I did.

“I can’t dance!” I said, as the music went to a waltz.

“I’ll show you,” he said, and proceeded to move me around, as I stumbled about. But he was holding me firmly so I could not fall, and after a bit I began to get into it. Not well, but into it.

It was nice to feel controlled by this man who was much stronger than me, and to move to music. I realised I had never danced since I was a child.

As the music ended, he called out “Same again, please!” In a moment it started again, and I found he had brought me to where David was sitting with a drink. He kissed me full on the lips, then held out my hand to David.

“Your turn,” he said, and David took it, looking slightly bemused. It was my turn to pull him to his feet.

And we danced. He was not as good as Bill, but I was now a bit more practised, and we sort of managed to get round the floor. At the end some people clapped. We stood there for a moment, and then he kissed me – just a peck – said “thank you” in an embarrassed way, and went back to his drink.

I went to grab my shoes and go to the Ladies.

I was followed in by Maisie. She was as direct as ever.

“I hope you’re going to give him his Christmas present tonight.”

I was as stupid as ever.

“I haven’t got a present. I don’t know what he wants.”

“He wants a fuck, of course! If you can’t manage that, at least a hand-job. A sucking off would be better!”

I suppose my expression told her everything. She sighed and began kindly.

“Look, you don’t have to be in love, or to go all the way. But he’s a single man, you’re the only available woman, and you obviously like each other. There’s no harm in a little wank or two, and you surely know how to do that! You should at least offer, as it’s Christmas.”

She took me by the shoulders and spoke more firmly.

“If you only want to pretend with the clothes and makeup, just say so, and everyone will understand. But if you really think you’re a girl and not a lesbian, then you should at least try it.”

She turned and started refreshing her lipstick.

“If you don’t, then I will,” she added quietly. “He deserves it.”

I was surprised.

“But surely Bill…?”

“He won’t mind at all. I’ve pulled a few cocks on the building site. I’ve always told him, and he’s always given me a good screwing afterwards. How do you think they were so helpful when Bill needed a hand? It is because I lent them a hand sometimes. But I never suck or fuck with anyone but Bill.”

“Your chance, your choice. Take it or lose it,” she said and left.

I went and sat in a cubicle, annoyed that my own cock was a bit too stiff to pee comfortably despite the hormones.

I was so used to shutting thoughts out, and being forced to confront them was a bit like being back at that summer camp.

The thing that decided me was Maisie’s last threat that she would do it. I realised I was jealous! Would she? I wasn’t sure. But I knew I didn’t want anyone else to do it. Not her, not Dilys, not anyone.

I went back and found him.

“Take me home,” I said.

“Had enough? OK,” he answered. We got our coats and he turned up the road towards my house.

“No,” I said, “your home,” and pointed towards the footpath and gate to the site.

I suppose I felt like a girl on her first serious date, and I think he was nervous as well, but we held hands as we walked. Neither of us said anything.

We got in and he took my coat.

“Do you want a drink?” he said. I didn’t. But we neither of us knew what to do, so sat down.

“What’s this in aid of,” he said eventually. I had to say it or leave.

“I want to give you a handjob.” There! I said it!

“Oh,” he said, “I see.” Then we sat there.

“I’ll go and powder my nose,” I said.

“The bathroom’s on the…” he began.

“I know, I did the lightingwiring,” I answered, which for some reason seemed funny.

I tried to hide my smile, and he saw it and was smiling.

“Give me a minute,” I said.

When I said powder my nose, that is literally what I meant. To fix my makeup. But when I opened my handbag there was something unexpected in it: a tube of lubricating jelly. Maisie must have put it in. That amused me as well, so I was cheerful when I came out.

He was looking apprehensive, but gave a relieved smile.

“You’d better get ready,” I said, and he went into the bathroom.

I don’t know what I was expecting, but he must have used the toilet and washed, and came out naked.

A naked man with a cock sticking out horizontal. He was not a bronzed muscleman with a huge cock sticking upwards like in the porno magazines we had been shown at the summer camp. He was much nicer: more real, and someone I trustedknew.

Now Maisie assumed that a male my age would be familiar with wanking, but actually I was not. I had been repeatedly told it was a sin and that my nocturnal emissions were from bad thoughts. Added to the trauma of the summer camp, I just tried not to think about such things, just feeling bad in a guilty sort of way for the occasional emissionswet dreams.

Now I had a cock in front of me and was as uncertain as the most innocent girl.

I used too much lube, so it dripped and was too tentative, too slow then too hard, too fast. David more or less put up with it until he eventually spurted. I was surprised how high it went, then pleased. I had done it!

I then didn’t know what to do, so he gently removed my hand.

“Thank you,” he said, “that was lovely, and very kind.” Then he said we should clean up.

I washed my hands and used the toilet. He cleaned himself up and dressed again.

Then we sat and talked, until I said I should be going.

“Why don’t you stay?” he said. “We can just cuddle, nothing else.”

But I knew I couldn’t: not while I had a cock, though I didn’.But I knew I couldn’t, not while I had a cock. He probably wouldn’t mind, but I would.

Maisie was right: David deserved a nice handjob, and I should give him lots. But she did not understand. I can’t explain how difficult it was for me. In my head two feelings were fighting. How much I loved him and wanted to give him pleasure, but also the revulsion at gay men wanking each other. I was doing what that American bastard had told me I wanted – the sinful, evil disgusting act of pulling another man’s cock! And my own cock going a bit hard to confirm my perversion!

Over Christmas I gave him lots more hand-jobs and got (I think) quite good at it. Eventually I learned to swallow his sperms, and to spend some of the time sucking and loving him with my mouth. What a triumph that was, but also a big stress. I smiled and kissed him and said I was glad (and I was) but I was exhausted afterwards.

What I loved much more turned out to be hugging and stroking. I loved to feel his hands anywhere on me, and for him to kiss my neck or my arms. In a sense my whole skin had become an erogenous zone. But not, of course, on my male front.

He told me I was a real girlfriend. We generally ate in his home or the pub and spent time just watching TV together or discussing the world, but I always went back to Liz and Sophie to sleep, and went to work in my van. All of this was lovely, and I got used to giving handjobs and sucking, but I could not enjoy it because of my guilt.

We had a New Year party, of course. Bernie was the belle of the ball in a sort of pink and frilly ‘little girl’ dress with a short skirt and petticoats.

“It takes a real man to be a proper sissy!” Liz told me. She had made it, of course.

We kissed for New Year and David said “I love you!”

“I love you too,” I said.

“Will you marry me?” he said, taking me quite off guard.

“No,” I had to say. “I’ll be your girlfriend first, and we’ll see.” But what I meant was “not while I have male genitals”.


After Christmas work started again on the main site, and some things changed. I was now going to be clearly Chloe all the time, and not just the electrician but the site supervisor. Liz made me a tailored suit with skirt for business meetings with companies, and a tailored feminine overall for when I needed it. My hairstyle was made so I could put it in and take it out of a helmet. (I still had to wear safety boots, of course!) Maisie complimented me on my new look.

Some new self-build houses were under way, and I would do the wiring on them as much as I could. They generally went more slowly than the units being done by regular contractors.

Which all sounds great, except for my limitations. Not that I was a woman, but that I was an electrician, and only an electrician. There is a thing called the Peter Principle which states that people are promoted until they reach their level of incompetence. That was me.

I think I understood wiring, but not all the other parts of construction as well as I should. And I was OK in dealing with ordinary folks who wanted some new sockets, or a shop needing rewiring, but I was less good in managing people or negotiating with companies.

Fortunately Bill knew quite a lot of the things I did not, and Maisie was very good with people, so they started helping me out, and they became my part-time assistants preventing me from making too many mistakes.

Meanwhile Maisie was urging me to let David fuck me.

“Up the arse is nicer than you might think, when you get used to it,” she said. “We did it a lot before I got my makeover. And Bill says there’s not that much difference, so I reckon you’d both enjoy it.”

But I couldn’t. I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to be a homosexual man, I wanted to be a girl!

Even more, I wanted to be David’s girl. Even more I wanted to be his wife. In every way.

Maisie was honest.

“Getting rid of your dangly bits is no big deal, actually. You can ask Sophie, of course. On the other hand, carving a hole out of you is going to hurt and it does. You also have to fight to keep it open, or it will heal up again, and it takes time to get it usable, but a year after I can’t tell you how glad I was that I’d done it.”

“A fair number of women actually get orgasms afterwards. I don’t, but I don’t mind. I just love being fucked. It’s not politically correct, but I enjoy being used for a man’s pleasure, and it gives me a real buzz how much he wants me!”

It took time to get an appointment, and there were interviews and counselling, but I guess my real sincerity convinced them. I eventually decided not to have implants at the same time. I was just not brave enough, really, and David just said I should do what I want. I had some tiny tits which were real, to be going on with.

Everyone involved with the reassignment surgery was lovely. It was touching to be in receipt of so much care and kindness along with professional skill. It was a week in hospital and I was released into the care of Sophie, with Maisie seeing me every day, and cajoling me to do my dilation exercises.

Yes, it hurt, but when the bandages came off, I was pleased to see my new vulva. It was swollen, but settled down into something quite cute, I was told (and agreed). Actually, I had hardly seen even pictures of female genitals before the procedure, so was not really the best judge.

I came out of hospital just before Christmas (so could not dance at the parties). There was no question of me going back to work for some months, so Bill and Maisie effectively took over my job, and did it much better. I hadn’t known, but Bill had actually been a foreman and was used to managing people on the site, and understood the wider issues. Maisie was better with the office folks from the banks, the government agencies and so forth.

After a couple of weeks of pretty much just resting and healing, I was fit for light activities. Handjobs seemed suitably light, and I took short walks with other women. This was often to someone’s house for some tea and a chat, so I got to know them better. These gradually became longer trips to town by car and a walk around.

Something amazing happened. It is often said you only appreciate something when you have lost it. So it was with me and my cock, but in a good way!

I realised that I had been conditioned to feel guilty about having a cock, and particularly when I had an erection. Cocks were not nice: disgusting and maybe a bit evil – best not to think about them. Because of this, giving handjobs to David had always been distasteful, though I had got used to it. That bastard Johnson had accused me of desiring cocks, which I never had. So while I wanted to please David, I could not enjoy the actual sensation, because that would make me gay, and bastard Johnson right.

Now I was definitely not a man, that had all dropped away. Not only was a cock not distasteful, it was actually rather nice! I was not only pleasing David, I was pleasing myself! I liked feeling it in my hand: its shape, its length its firmness, and the sensation of desire in these inches of meat! It was admirable and also funny in its simple response, really rather cute! And when it was shaking and he was thrusting and I could feel the sperms coming through the tube, there was such a sense of satisfaction and achievement. It was made to shoot sperms and I wanted to help it as often as possible! I was a woman: I liked a cock and what they did – liked it a lot!

I liked seeing it shoot, but I also liked feeling it come in my mouth. It was not disgusting, it was welcome, and I was sort of imagining my mouth as a vagina.

I adored David’s of course, but I wished all the men in the world lots of erections and plenty of comings! In particular I was happy to think about the Tranford men and how they and their wives enjoyed their lovely cocks.