The Comfort Gurl
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The traffic was still awful in London, even with half the population gone. I swore as I tried to change lanes to turn off the dual carriageway. The asshole who shot into the gap from behind put his hand out the window and mimed the wanker sign. Then, when he saw my face and my long blond hair, he almost crashed into the car in front. He gaped at me. Seeing a woman was so rare nowadays, it often had that effect on men.
I nipped in behind him and turned off at the next junction. These dammed ballet flat shoes were hard to drive in. I would have preferred trainers, but that was not permitted for us comfort gurls.
I glanced at the shoes in the passenger footwell. 5 inch patent leather court shoes. I hated walking in anything that high. I had learned, but I really had to "mince" when I walked. The client had specified those shoes, so I had no choice.
I longed for the days when I was Simon. But that was before I made the mistake that changed my life
He had specified the rest of what I was wearing, right down to the underwear. Silk and lace French knickers, a black basque, seamed stockings, a short black skirt, and a fluffy white blouse. I also had a blond wig and pearl earrings on.
I had read what he wanted. He wanted a sexy secretary. The sort that he could probably have had at his beck and call before the world went to hell.
No one knew who started it, but the Americans accused the Chinese and the Russians. Both of those countries accused each other. The Gynax virus had effectively wiped out 98% of women.
It was thought that it came from a mutated virus that was meant to mimic the beneficial effects of female hormones on the immune system. During the COVID-19 outbreak, more women recovered than men, and fewer were hospitalized.
The Gynax virus was meant to be one of the newly developed "friendly" viruses. It was meant to enhance a male's immune system so it reacted to viruses as well as a woman's did..
The virus mutated. It overstimulated the immune response in males and females. Over the course of two years, it killed 20% of the male
population and 98% of the female population. It was due to a massive autoimmune response created by the virus.
The remaining females were housed in huge secure medical facilities. Kept in a sterile environment to protect them from the virus until a cure was found.
Later, any woman capable of giving birth was to be impregnated so they would bear only female children. The plan was to rebuild the population of the world with the next generation of women. Effectively, women would have to become baby-making machines. The scientists worked out that a woman can have somewhere around 15 to 30 babies in her lifetime. Humanity was on the edge of extinction.
Scientists were also experimenting with implanting human embryos into pigs and cows. Another group was trying to develop artificial wombs. They tried implanting the first of these into prisoners on death row. So far without success.
Another problem was the remaining men. Millions of men were desperate for female company. In America, where firearms were readily available, a huge army of armed men had killed the soldiers guarding one of the women's "sanctuaries", and freed the women. Most of the women died within a week.
In the UK, where I live, men had rioted and been put down ruthlessly. At first, rubber bullets were used. When a soldier was killed with a shotgun, they switched to live ammunition. The centers were safe after that. Men's lives were cheap. The government made that clear.
The world didn't stop when the women died. The health service suffered as a huge number of health workers were female. Teaching and admin staff were overwhelmingly run by women. It took a year before these services were running again. The main infrastructure that kept the country running, water, power, farming, and even policing, was run by men.
Most economies stumbled, but two years later, essential services were running normally. The problem was that the men were craving female company. Homosexuality was actively encouraged by the government, but many men could not bring themselves to sleep with another man. Trans women were seen as the holy grail.
With little choice, most men went along with. "If it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck, well, it's a duck, or close enough."
Many trans women married rich men. They were treated like queens. Even the ones that never really liked the idea of going with men did. It was one of the few ways they could find protection in a world of sex-starved men.
The government latched on to this as a way to partly pacify the population. Any man who agreed to gender reassignment would be set for life. They would be given surgery for free. This included breast augmentation and facial feminization. They would be given half a million pounds provided they agreed to marry a man within 6 months.
This initiative yielded a small increase in the trans-female population, but not nearly enough. The second initiative was launched.
There were a lot more crossdressers than truly trans women. The government offered to pay large amounts of money to convincing crossdressers who would work for the state-run "Comfort gurl" program. They would be housed in a secure apartment and protected. They would only be "rented out" to carefully screened clients. The clients had to have a spotless record. This was another way of controlling the male population.
There were several tiers of comfort gurls. Tier 1 was the most convincing, the most beautiful. They would usually be rented out for £5k plus per assingment. Tier 5 was for the ugliest. They could be expected to fetch around £100 per assignment.
The gurls all had to agree to be in the program for 5 years. They were offered free breast augmentation, vocal cord surgery, and facial feminization surgery. Very few went on to full gender reassignment.
I had been having a bad day. I was looking at my phone when I bumped into a comfort gurl leaving an office block. She laughed and said.
"I bet that is the biggest thrill you've had since you're wife died."
I think it was the mention of my wife that triggered me. I punched her in the face. She screamed, and I was set upon by several men.
I was in court the next day and sentenced to death. As I had attacked a state-owned asset. I was charged with treason. Sentences these days were harsh. It was the only way to keep order. Still, it did shock me to get such a severe sentence.
The day before my execution, the offer arrived. I could opt to go into the comfort gurl program for 5 years. I would only earn 5% of my fee. Volunteers get 50%.
After 5 years, I would be set free with my earnings. It was explained to me that I had better agree to the "enhancements" to stand any chance of getting a higher tier rating.
So here I am, walking into the lobby of an upmarket block of luxury flats in my 5-inch heels. I can feel the tug of my stockings on the suspenders. The silk knickers are rubbing my penis, which has been stitched between my legs to give me a more convincing appearance when naked. My surgically created C-cup breasts make it hard to see where my feet tread, so I walk slowly into the lift.
As he opened the door, the first thing I noticed was his height. He was taller than me, even with the 5-inch heels. In heels, I was nearly 6 feet tall. This guy was at least 6 feet 6 inches. I hoped he wasn't as big downstairs.
The roleplay started.
"Get to your desk Suzi, you are late again."
I sat at the work station in his living room and started typing up the memos he had piled on the desk.
He returned in a few minutes and looked at the memo that I had printed.
"Right! That's it Suzi. I warned you. Bend over the desk."
I obeyed. I felt him lift my skirt and my slip. I felt the cold air on the bare flesh above my stockings. He tugged my knickers upwards. I felt the lace tickle my buttocks, then I felt the sting of his hand as he spanked me.
I felt anger and shame. I was a grown man being treated as a naughty girl. I knew he wouldn't hurt me. If he did, he would never hire one of us again. After a dozen or more slaps, he stopped and ordered me to my knees. He unzipped his fly and pulled out his 7-inch cock. At least he wasn't as big as I feared.
I knew what was expected. After 6 months in the job, I was, to my eternal shame, getting good at blow jobs. I suppose only a guy really knows what to do with a dick. Hopefully, I could bring him off quickly.
I looked up into his eyes as I slowly enveloped his cock. This was such a submissive position to be in. Yet, it was also powerful. I had his most treasured possession in my mouth. He threw his head back and groaned as my tongue went to work on his glans.
I felt him stiffen, this was it.. Then he pulled out.
"You don't get away that easy, you sexy little bitch."
I still wasn't used to being referred to as a woman. He pulled me to my feet and roughly pushed me back over the desk. My skirt was yanked up and my knickers down. He shoved his dick straight in. I screamed. The high-pitched noise I made, and I spoke in, were the result of vocal surgery.
I had lubed myself , but it still hurt. I think every time I was fucked, it stole another piece of my manhood. I felt him slide inside and graze my prostate. God help me, but it felt good. Thank god the hormones I was forced to take kept me from becoming erect. My trapped cock was sewn between my legs.
I started to sigh and groan and made feminine grunting sounds as his balls slapped my buttocks.
"Yes, you're enjoying this, aren't you bitch?"
I felt tears in my eyes. He was right. I hated it, but I was. I was enjoying sex as a woman. I had another four and a half years of this. Would there be a man left after that?
He screamed as he shot his load into me.
"Take that bitch! I hope I knocked you up."
I think guilt overtook him. He walked to the front door and said.
"Get out now, you dirty slut."
I pulled my knickers up and stumbled to the door. It slammed before I got to the lift. As the lift descended, I felt his cum dripping down my bare inner thighs onto my stocking tops. I really did feel like a slut.
I got back to my car and headed back. I had to meet my case worker today. He had the power to change my tier rating. I knew what he would demand to keep me as a tier 2. Twice in one day. But I was trapped. It was better than death, but what was I becoming?
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I am not sure if I should carry in with this story. I could write several more. Each one a new story with a different client. Does it have legs?
Please let me know.
The Comfort Gurl Part 2
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The Comfort Gurl Part 2
My case worker, Dave Collins, arrived at 3 pm. Within 10 minutes, I was on my knees in front of him.
He had a lot of control over me. I was still officially a prisoner. I could visit my clients, but had almost no freedom. The sub-dermal tracking device they implanted in the back of my neck meant they could track me anywhere. All the gurls had them. This was to prevent kidnapping. They were buried deep and needed surgery to remove.
Dave nearly controlled my entire existence. He decided what I could watch on TV, my client list, my finances, and my tier rating. Even what clothes I could wear was his decision. I once tried to order some plain nylon knickers. What was delivered were all lace and frills. He could add months onto my sentence if he thought I was not "performing" well. Voluntary comfort gurls had a lot more control. If they dressed unattractively, they made less money. I was a cash cow. Except I was the one who had to do the milking.
Today, he had me in a black wig, 6-inch heels, a black pencil skirt, a white satin blouse, a lacy black bra, and knickers. When I looked in the mirror before he arrived, I realized I looked like Yvette, the sexy waitress from the sitcom, Allo, Allo.
Old vintage TV was all the rage now. Without women, anything new would mainly star men. There were a few transgender actresses, but talented ones were rare. Only sports and news were on live now. All men of course.
When I refused to run to him, kiss him, and call him Renee in a sexy voice, he reminded me of his power over me.
"If you don't do as I say, you little bitch. I'll move you to tier 4. You will live on the ground floor in those basic, grotty apartments. You will end up like Beryl. Have you seen her?"
I had. She was a fat, masculine tier 4 gurl. No one would ever mistake her for a woman. I nodded.
"She gets a least 6 jobs a day. Mostly blow jobs. Probably, dirty, smelly men. She gets £100 a time. I don't think anyone actually fucks her. Who would want to? "
"Why does she do it?"
"Why? She gets £300 a day. She can earn £80k a year. Tax-free. You will get a small nest egg when you, sorry IF you ever finish your sentence."
That was a veiled threat.
"How would she earn that sort of money otherwise? When she finishes her 5 years, she will probably never have to work again. She may even pay for a full gender reassignment."
"Why, I thought it was free?"
"Ha! Not for people like her. Who would pay to marry that? Anyway, even though you only get 5%, you will still have a pretty sum after 5 years. Although it could be longer if I decide you are not pleasing your clients. If I decide you are irredeemable, they may even still execute you. The government is keeping a close eye on you."
"The government? Why me? What's so special about me?"
"You are an experiment. If you work out, the courts will start giving out more death sentences and offer the comfort gurl option. So be a good little lady and do as you are told. If not, you will see how much you like going down on 6 smelly men every day."
I had it easy. I lived in a nice apartment and had a maximum of 2 clients a day. I suppose things could be worse. I didn't quite believe the smelly men part, though.
Clients pay a deposit before they use the service. Even to use tier 4's, the deposit was £5k.
For a tier 2 like me, they had to fork out £20k. Any damage to a gurl could result in the loss of the deposit and being kicked off the scheme forever.
A few months back, one guy wanted a naughty schoolgirl scene. I was in a uniform with a short skirt and white blouse. The guy had his living room set up like a classroom. Even a chalkboard and a desk. He had me doing maths and spelling until I made a mistake. Then he hauled me out of my seat and pushed me over his knee. When my knickers came down, he laid into me with a wooden rule.
I was expecting light taps, but he went crazy and hit me so hard he drew blood. As I ran out the door, he screamed that he would report me. I told Dave when I got back. He arranged for the doctor to treat me, and the guy lost all his money. I couldn't work for two days..
Dave gave me a sly smile.
"I'll tell you what. It's the cup final on Saturday. I'll take the restrictions off your TV for a day. You can reminisce, remember when you were a man. So what's it to be YVETTE?"
I launched myself at him. I covered his face with kisses and wrapped my right leg around him. He leered down at my stocking top, which was showing as my split skirt rode up. He stuck his tongue in my mouth. I hated that.
"RENEEEEEEeeeee, my love. I vant you, ma darlin unk of a man"
Trying to do my best comedy French accent.
It worked. I felt the lump in his pants grow harder.
"Is zat a gun in your pocket, or are you jhust pleased to zee me?"
"Good girl. keep it up Yvette. I always wanted to fuck you. Now on your knees."
He dropped his trousers and underwear
As always, it brought back memories. Four weeks after my surgery, he was my first non-medical visitor. I had just moved into this, admittedly, wonderful flat. He explained how everything worked.
He told me that because I had turned out so well, I was designated as a tier 2. That is one step down from an actual trans woman. I would bring in thousands of pounds per day. I asked why they had performed facial surgery when I had only agreed to the breast implants, vocal, and genital work.
He showed me the small print. "and any other reversible procedures deemed necessary". It would have made no difference, as I didn't want to die. They had shaved my brow, made my nose and chin smaller. I looked very feminine now.
He had made me blow him. I was nearly sick. The thought of having a man's dick in my mouth back then was horrible. To be fair, he was gentle with me. He explained that women used to do it to men all the time. Just think of myself as a woman. It helped, but not much. When he left, he gave me a box with a set of dildos and some lube.
The five dildos started small and went up to an 8-inch monster. He told me that I needed to be able to accommodate the largest one by the end of next week. He came to see me every day for my "oral exam", as he called it.
I was hoping today he would be in a hurry, but it seems he was not. He lifted his cock up a shoved his balls in my face.
"Lick my balls, go on."
This was not something I enjoyed doing. I stuck my tongue out and gently licked each one with the tip of my tongue. He started to slap my forehead with his dick. This was so humiliating. I think he really got off humiliating me.
"Oh, that's good. You dirty girl. You like that, don't you? My balls are all sweaty and vinegary aren't they? I went for a run this morning and didn't shower. I did it all for you. Just so you get the full flavor."
The fucking prick just loved to push my buttons. He knew I couldn't react. I so wanted to punch him. With the hormones I was taking, he could overpower me easily. I knew I had become more passive lately, too. I just had to take it.
He pushed me back, and started to slap my face with his dick.
"Look up at me. Let me see those lovely eyes."
I glared at him as he pushed his cock against my lips.
"Ha,ha, You fucking hate this don't you? You are forced to act and live like a woman, and you hate it. I'm going to make sure you live like a woman forever. I'll find a way of making you apply for full gender reassignment. I will get a cut of the money when you are auctioned off."
Between his assault on my mouth, I mumbled "No, no I won't"
"Do you think you'll ever be able to think of yourself as a man after years of this? I pick you clients, and I have some very interesting ones coming up. Just you wait. Now on the table, Yvette."
I climbed on all fours. I assumed he wanted to fuck me.
"No, on your back, head hanging over."
He unbuttoned my blouse and released the front clasp of my bra. The cool air made my nipples tingle and harden. He started to tweak them.
"So nice. Not as big as real women's, but getting there. Even if you took out your implants, you'll be stuck with these. Why would you want to be rid of them anyway?"
He leaned in and gently suckled my right nipple as his palm caressed my left.
"Owww, mmmm yes."
I couldn't help myself. It felt so good. My nipples were never this sensitive before.
"See. You are becoming a woman. No man would act like that. Face it, your life as a man is done."
I opened my mouth to reply, but he shoved his cock down my throat. My head was hanging over the table, and he was fucking my face. I started to gag, but then got control. I had trained myself not to gag over the last few months. It was hard to do , but I was almost proud of that ability. I wanted him done and gone. I sucked a little and used my tongue to tickle him as best as I could.
"Oh that's nice bitch. Keep doing that."
I endured as his balls slapped into my face as he mechanically pumped into me. I felt totally used. A man was using my face as a vagina. I was just an object of pleasure to him. He knew his balls slapping my face would humiliate me even more than usual.
"Yesss..." he cried as he exploded straight down my throat.
As he pulled back, I spun around, coughing up spit and cum. My face was a mess. He loved it. He was grinning like the cat who got the cream.
"You look like a right slut. Go and clean up."
He dressed as I slumped on the sofa with some tissues.
"See you next week dear. Think on what I said."
I put my head in my hands and cried. What would happen to me?
Note. To those that do not know what Yvette looked like Google Yvette Allo Allo
Any suggestions on what her next client wants would be appreciated.
The Comfort Gurl Part 3
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Dave's word was good. I spent the weekend watching TV. Football and old movies. All I normally got was cooking shows and old reruns of old soaps. For a few hours, I forgot that I was sitting watching TV in a frilly red baby doll. with matching knickers.
My first client was two guys who wanted a maid. I arrived and was told to change in the bedroom by a middle aged bald guy. When I got back downstairs, I saw the other man was younger and around 6f tall.
"Get us some beers bitch" said the tall guy.
This was going to be one of those jobs. A job where I get treated like crap. I often wondered if these guys treated "real" women like this. I thought they probably did.
"Hurry up bitch, you're on the clock." The bald guy said.
I was dragging it out. They had paid £4k for an hour. I knew they would want their money's worth. I brought the beers on a tray with two glasses. The bald guy was naked and stroking an erection.
"On your knees slut. Blow me."
This was going to be a long hour.
I slowly licked the length of his shaft.
"Don't mess about bitch, SUCK IT."
I obeyed, and started to bob my head, making exaggerated slurping and sucking noises.
"Yeah, she loves cock doesn't she. She's a dirty slut." Said the tall guy.
I still struggled to think of myself as SHE.
After a few minutes, I felt the tall guy behind me. My knickers were pulled down, and he rammed into me. My scream was stifled by the cock in my mouth. They set up a rhythm between them I was forced by the man pounding my backside to deep throat the guy in front. They laughed and high-fived each other when they came. The guy in front wiped himself all over my face.
On the way back I had tears in my eyes. I felt so used. I was just a sex toy to those guys. They loved humiliating me. Bloody Dave knew that. That's why he chose me for the job. I was angry. He'd have to do better than that if he wanted me to commit to a full gender change.
My next job surprised me. I was given the code to enter a large detached house in the country. The client had paid for three hours. I had been given instructions and a script. The house and gardens were amazing. It had a tennis court and an indoor swimming pool. I found the master bedroom and dressed in the clothes on the bed.
There was a very expensive white, silk camisole and knickers. They smelled of expensive perfume, a blue, flowered, knee-length house dress, and hold-up stockings. I was told to bring a blond bob wig and some white high heels. On the dresser was a note instructing me to wear the small gold loop earrings and use the perfume. The perfume looked expensive. It had a Clive Christian Noble label on the bottle.
I checked myself in the mirror. I was the image of a suburban housewife. This is what the client wanted. I guess he wanted his wife back for a few hours. I went down to the kitchen and removed the casserole from the oven. It had been left on a timer.
The client opened the front door.
"Oh, Mary, My Mary. I have missed you so much."
He rushed over to kiss my face while gently hugging me. He must know that I wasn't his wife, but he was happy with the illusion. He rubbed my back so tenderly, and I found myself enjoying it. Why? I thought.
Then it hit me. The last person to hug me was my wife. Men don't hug much. Some do it briefly, but not like a man and woman do. I had mixed feelings. It felt a little wrong that I should enjoy it. I also felt small, vulnerable, but protected. He was saying that he would never let me go. He would look after me and we would be happy. I remember telling my wife things like that before she died.
When he released me, I saw he was crying.
"I'm sorry, Mary. I'm sorry.. it's just that... I know you're not her..but.."
I felt so sorry for him. He wasn't like most of my clients, who just wanted sex. He wanted companionship.
"It's OK, John. I will be your Mary today."
He smiled and took my hand and led me to the dining room. We sat down and ate. He told me all about Mary. She was the love of his life. She supported him while he built up his building business. Just when things got good, the plague hit. He regretted spending so much time working and not with his wife. I felt the same way, only I never amounted to much as a man.
After dinner, he put some music on and we danced. I was a little awkward. I never danced much as a guy, but he was gentle and led me around the room. My hands around his neck, and his softly rubbing my buttocks. It was sensuous and felt so sexy. None of my clients had been like this before.
As we danced, I looked at his face. He was in his late 40's. He had a rugged, handsome look. I saw such sadness in his eyes. I just wanted to hold him and comfort him. I caught myself. Why was I thinking like this? Was it the hormones? Do they have that effect on your mind?
He leaned down and kissed me. I didn't resist. This was different. I found myself pushing my tongue into his mouth. I was actively taking part in this. It usually filled me with a little revulsion, even after months of being kissed.
He turned me around and hugged me from behind. He softly blew in my ear. Oh my God. I felt my trapped cock tingle. That had not happened since before going to prison. He kissed my neck, and I moved my head to the side so he could do it more. His hands then cupped both of my breasts. His fingers rubbed my now hard nipples through my dress and camisole. The silk felt incredible. I was amazed at these feelings. I wanted him. For the first time ever I wanted to have sex with another man.
"Mary, will you come to bed with me, my love?"
"Yes, John, I would love to," I whispered.
I could not understand my feelings for him. I had just met him. Perhaps it was because for the last 6 months I had been treated like an object. Something to be used and discarded. This man was asking me. He was gentle and kind. Or perhaps it was the hormones. The developing feminine side of me was recognizing a good mate. For the first time, I wanted to have sex as a woman,
John was 6 inches taller than me. He picked me up and carried me up the wide staircase. I felt helpless. He could do what he wanted to me, and I couldn't stop him. What surprised me was that I didn't want to. I just wanted to make him happy. I had only just met the guy, but he seemed so gentle and kind. I think he was the first man who had treated me as a real person, a woman.
He laid me on the bed and slowly removed my clothes.
"Are you alright, my love? I'm sorry, it's just been so long. "
"Yes, John, it's fine. I'm fine."
I unbuckled his belt. He took off his shirt and stepped out of his trousers. He was fairly big down there. I had prepared myself as I always did, but got a tube of lube out of my handbag. He stood in front of me a full attention. His cock trembled I the cool air.
I leaned forward and took him in my mouth.
"Oh Mary! That feels wonderful. I have missed this so much. You're so beautiful, my love"
No one had ever complimented me beyond . "You suck like a pro".
I gave him my best effort. I swirled my tongue around his glans as I bobbed up and down.
"Oh my! I'm going to come."
I was happy to please him. I looked up into his eyes and saw tears.
I stopped.
"You OK?"
"Sorry, I just fell like I'm betraying her memory."
He started to sob. I stood and held him to my chest. I stroked his hair.
"There, it's OK, John. I'm sure she knew you loved her. I'm also sure she would want you to be happy. Do I make you happy?"
"Yes, you do. I have missed female company so much. This place feels like a home again."
"Well, I'm sure she wouldn't mind. You still love her. That's what matters."
"Can...can I make love to you.. Please?"
I had so many feelings right then. I felt so sorry for this man. I wanted to make him happy again, and I think I wanted to make him love me. This was crazy. It had to be those bloody hormones I was taking. No one had ever asked me if they could make love to me.
"Yes, I would like that," I said, and I meant it.
He pushed me onto my back, then removed my knickers. I was on the edge of the bed. He gripped both of my ankles and spread my legs high and wide. I felt him slowly push into me. He did this so tenderly and smoothly. It didn't hurt in the least.. I felt him brush my prostate and cried out in pleasure.
"I didn't hurt you, did I?"
"If you did, it was the sweetest hurt I ever had, my love."
My love? What was I saying? He smiled down at me as he slowly slid in and out. The sight of my smooth, stocking-covered legs and my red toe nails made me feel so feminine. I found myself meeting his thrusts. My, oh, my. I was really enjoying myself. He increased his pace and I felt him stimulating me inside with every thrust. He grew urgent, and sped up. He was driving me hard into he bed. I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him in deeper. Suddenly, we both came together.
He collapsed on top of me. I wrapped my arms around him and kissed his face.
"I would love to, but you know the rules. I'm sorry."
"What if I offered to buy you. I don't want to lose you."
"They will only allow that for trans women. I'm not trans."
"But you could be, couldn't you?"
I was stunned. What would life be like as a woman? A housewife. Could I do it? For the rest of my life?