The Closing, Pt. 1

This is a new exclusive story to this Patreon. We've had some questions about The Christmas Gift, Pt. 7. It's coming! We are working out the plot lines for the future parts and that impacts Pt. 7. It's going to get very hot and we need to make sure the plotting is just right. We're nearly done with that and will be continuing that story. - BL Quick

. . .

The phone conversation with Steve was brief. I took it on the drive home from my closing — a huge mansion up in the hills. 

"Hello?"

"Hey, Andy. I guess from the sound of your voice I don't need to ask you if you went through with it."

I giggled. "You're very perceptive."

"Where are you headed?"

"I'm going home. The cocktail will wear off later tonight. I need to be inside."

"Do you have time to drop by? I need to ask you a favor."

I looked at the clock in my luxury car. "Sure. But only for an hour. I don't want to risk changing back in public. Also, could I change clothes in your bathroom? I'm wearing something pretty tight."

"That makes me imagine some pretty hilarious scenarios involving you changing back and standing in a torn dress in the middle of traffic. Maybe you should take your time and freak a few people out before you're back to your old self."

"Yeah. . . Ha." 

My mind was elsewhere. My hands were shaking a bit. I was free. Finally free. Today had been a total victory. My plan had gone through perfectly, with one slight concession. A concession that I was now trying to keep from my mind. My nipples cut into the soft pads of my bra. The pads seemed to hug back. I bit my lip. 

Fucking hell. I was now filthy rich, I could retire, the crowning achievement of my working life was obtained — but all I could think about was the closing. 

Damn. Standing in Steve's bathroom admiring my casual clothes. This is surreal. I'm positively glowing right now. . . and it's not because of the money. 

Steve had greeted me at the door with a kind of yowza face. He howled like a cartoon wolf. Basically, he was ripping on me. 

"Shit dude. That's some dress."

"Get out of my way and let me use your bathroom."

"No!" Steve laughed. "Let me have a good look at you."

I punched him weakly in the shoulder, "No way, ya freak. I'm changing pronto," and pushed passed him.

"You bought more than one outfit?"

I called out behind me as I beelined towards his bathroom. "I had to change yesterday, no use in wrinkling my dress." 

"I set up a chessboard."

"Cool, I have time to play one match. Then I gotta go home and change."

"So. Why am I here, Steve — besides to beat you at chess."

"Well, Beautiful — I need a favor."

"You said that." 

He smiled at me. I touched my thighs, shaved smooth, a sacrifice of my successful plan. Totally worth it. My hair would grow back and no one would be the wiser. Steve was the only person I had told anyway. 

"So what's the favor?"

"You know that family reunion I have every few years."

"Yeah." I was playing white. I moved pawn to e4. 

"I need a date. My mom's been harassing me for years to give up my bachelor life and meet a nice girl. Really I just want to show up with someone nice and avoid one weekend familial advice about how to fix my love life."

"I see." He had caught me at the perfect moment. I felt so light. Breezy. Open to anything. "So what's the strategy."

"Simply, you meet me in Tuscany in three days and accompany me. You chat up my parents, impress them with your refined wit — "

"Naturally," I smirked.

"And then we go home and you can change back and enjoy your early retirement."

"Italy, eh?" 

"The one and only." He moved his pawn.

I nodded. There was a pitcher of pink liquid in my fridge. The care instructions was to keep it below room temperature. Powerful stuff. One sip and one's body would be ushered through one of the most painful transformations known to man. Male to female. And if one wanted to stay that way it was one sip a day until they were ready to change back. I honestly was dreading the return transformation — Italy immediately sounded like a better proposition. And what better way to celebrate my victory than to go abroad? What did it matter if I did that in my female form?

"Well, Steve. I'm feeling generous." I made my next move. "Why not? I need a vacation."

"Oh, that's great news, Andy!" 

I smiled. "I guess you should call me Andrea."

"How about Ashley?"

"It's your family, have it your way." I kept touching my thighs. Tracing my hands over my curves. They had seem to come alive. Not like this morning where I had struggled to shuffle a foreign body into a tightly fitting dress. "But what about my passport? They're going to look at my photo and deny me." 

"They just scan your bio profile and do a quick finger prick to test your blood. People have been changing genders with the gender cocktail for several years now. It's an old hat. You'll get through with no problem."

I nodded.

"But there's one thing I need to ask you, Andy."

I looked up questioningly.

"What's that?"

"Are you feeling any split in your personality?"

I swallowed. "No. . . "

"I just read in a magazine that a small fraction of people lose themselves to the cocktail." He moved his knight. I rushed to take my next move, desperate to hold onto something.

"Lose themselves?" 

"Yeah. Lose themselves to their new form. I mean, you still want to change back right."

I nodded enthusiastically. "Of course!" I laughed. "I hate sitting down to pee." 

It was a lie of course. Even in the last 12 hours I had found women's toilets were actually quite comfortable. I'm a reasonable person and can concede when grey areas present themselves. There were simply some advantages to being a woman — which is why I had made the change to begin with. 

"Are you absolutely sure?" He scowled, looking at me deeply. "You would be helping me out and I don't want to risk you losing your identity to your new form as a result." He laughed. "I mean, unless you wanted to."

"Gross." I muttered in my most convincing tone. He didn't respond. I searched his eyes. Had I seemed unsure? 

"Riiight." He moved again. "Tell me. How did your closing go?" He looked up at me inquisitively. The way he asked the question made it feel like a job interview. My face broke out in a blush.

"Fine."

"Fine." He looked me up and down. "And why did you decide to get so "dolled up" for it?"

I shuffled in my seat, thinking of how hard I had prepared for the meeting. "Oh. No reason."

"Who was the buyer?"

My body broke out in goosebumps. "Just some rich guy from out of town."

Steve laughed. "Oh I get it now. You thought you'd be assured the sale if some hot woman met him at the property."

I nodded. "As always, you're very perceptive, Steve."

"Geez, how long did it take you to prepare? I'm assuming you wore those heels all day."

I looked over at the pile of clothes next to Steve's bathroom. A black dress. Stockings. High heels. I flexed the muscles within me. I was still wearing the black thong. My nipples cut into my shirt. I crossed my arms hoping Steve wouldn't see my headlights turning on. My black bra lay with my clothes across his apartment.

"I did. I practiced. I bought some heels my size one night a few weeks back and learned to walk. 

"Damn. That's commitment." He nodded. "Was he convinced?"

I nodded. "I nearly slipped on the stairs." We weren't moving. The chess game had stopped. My mind was elsewhere — trying to answer Steve's questions as tersely and diplomatically as I could while maintaining my cool. "I could feel him looking up my skirt." I sighed. "It was rather uncomfortable at first. But I had my eye on the prize."

"The commission?"

"Yes. With this one sale, I could call it quits with a huge commission. Travel. Enjoy life. As you know I was through with real estate. When I heard about the cocktail I figured, why leave it to chance? So I didn't."

"Well. It makes sense, Andy."

I nodded and brushed my hair from my face. "It does."

"So he signed the contract just like that."

I bit my lip.

"Yes."

"Wow. Good job."

I nodded. "Yes."

Andy stood up and walked to the small bar he had built across the room. He pulled out two glasses and selected his best scotch. 

"This calls for a toast."

I nodded quietly.

"And I feel better now, Andy. That article had me worried your psyche would crumble to feminine urges. But it looks like you can keep your composure."

He poured. "In the article, they said a particular subset of cocktail users experience these symptoms — mostly people that dive into sexual escapades."

I nodded and tried to focus on the chessboard. 

"Looking at you I'm surprised that guy was convinced without expecting more from you. All alone with a hot woman like yourself in a big mansion. I'm surprised he didn't take advantage of it. I mean — you said you'd do anything for that contract to close."

I laughed softly. "Well, I didn't mean It like that."

Oh, god. I'm heating up. 

Shut up, Steve. 

Stop talking this instant. 

I don't want to think about it.

I need to forget it. . . 

How good it was.

Please don't make me think about it.

I was doing so well until I got here.

I was keeping it out of my mind. Feeling sure about returning to my form. Being a the man I always was. 

Don't make me rememeber, please.

How he mounted me and fucked me.

Fucked me like I was his property.

Spread my pussy lips with his throbbing cock and plowed me good.

God thinking about the way I cocked my hips to take him makes me want to moan out even now.

I still hear my screams of pleasure echoing in the living room. Bent over the couch. Pussy exposed and stuffed full. His unrelenting thrusts drumming up earth-shattering orgasms. His breath on my back. My nipples settled into the soft couch and my pussy dripping under me to the plush cushions.

"I mean, geez." Steve interrupted my remembrance, stepping slowly to me and handed me my whiskey glass. "With that much money on the table — I might have." He raised his glass. "To your deal with. . . what's his name?"

"Mr. Beaumont." 

"To you and Mr. Beaumont." I smiled and took a sip nervously. 

"Mmmhmm."

It had started so innocently.

When I had detected resistance I had asked about his hobbies.

Very quickly it became evident he was flirting with me.

And then he said. "I like this house. . . but I feel like good places start with a good memory."

He winked at me.

I let him pull up my dress.

It would be a lie to say I wasn't lost in impatient expectation as I waited for him to fish out his cock from his pants. 

He had already done the same to my new tits — pulling them from the cups of my bra and exposing my nipples to the air and his lustful gaze. He stripped my panties from me swiftly and without thought, driven by instinct, I spread my legs wide aching to receive him. 

Oh fuck. Why did I do that? 

Why did he have to look so handsome? 

Why was I already so wet?

After feeling his fingers inside of me I started wondering.

Wondering what he'd feel like slipping in.

The wondering started in my mind.

But ended in my mouth.

By then I was determined to show him a good time. I knew we would be fucking and I needed him hard. 

I sucked his cock praying he wouldn't realize I had never done it. I worked out the moves, reimagining how my exes had done it and thinking of every pornstar I could remember.

Judging from his reaction, I think I did a good job. 

The worst thing is, it was easy.

I was honest with myself. 

I wasn't going to work another three years. 

I wasn't leaving this house without a contract. 

It was easy to climb on and take that ride. 

To have him deep inside of me.

To be fucked.

It was the longest closing of my life. 

He could last. 

Yet time seemed to pass too quickly for me. 

I ached when he signed the contract. 

I ached because he would be leaving. 

This man had just given me the best sex of my life. I was in love with his cock. And how he touched me. And his easy humor. 

"Damn. I'd like to see you again. Maybe after I move in. Can I have your phone number?"

"Uh. . . " Oh fuck. "You can have my secretary's. . ."

"Ha! Okay, what's her name?"

"Andy."

"Wow! I feel a bit silly."

I shook my head. "Don't. Its a reasonable assumption to make. Andy is a nice guy."

Suddenly I was talking about myself in the third person. Denegrating him to the role of secretary. My pussy ached to be entered again. Ached at the denial of my male form. Ached for penetration. 

He went to stand up. And I took his cock into my hands. Got it hard. And led it back to my swollen pussy lips. 

I walked bowlegged back to my car and got inside and took a deep breath. "Fuck, that was good." 

No.

No, put it out of your mind. 

You just did that for the deal.

I nodded.

It was worth it. 

Then Steve called. 

And I came over to discuss his family reunion.

"Andy?"

I bit my lip. My thong hugged tightly to my sex. Mr. Beaumont's come was so warm on my tits.

"Andy?"

"Andy?"

Steve punched me in the arm.

"Andy! Are you with me?"

I bounced up from the couch. "Oh sorry. I was thinking about something." I sipped my whiskey and quickly moved my bishop.

"Thanks for easing my concerns. And thanks for being a pal and coming to Italy."

I nodded. "No problem. It's my pleasure." I took another sip of whisky. "You have nothing to worry about. I still want to be a man." I giggled nervously. 

We would need to play fast. It was getting late and if I was going to make this trip I would need to take my next sip of cocktail. 

I thought of the pitcher of pretty, pink liquid waiting in my fridge at home. So sweet and fragrant. 

I crossed my legs. 

I repeated my assurance to Steve. "I still want to be a man."

And thought of how nice it was to take Mr. Beaumont's cock between my tits. 

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