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A TK spoke up. "Oh, the U's can't work on the pier." Why's that?" I asked."When you meet them, I think you'll understand."The voice on the intercom said, "Speaking of which, it's about time for someone to relieve us."Lisa sighed. "That's us." You just got here," I exclaimed. "Are sure you are ready?'Lorraine patted me on my shoulder. "We have been very well trained, before we got here, Sir."The two red-heads walked to the entryway. A double click was heard, and a hidden panel opened. Out bounded two petite girls, who looked like they belonged in Middle School.They had short platinum blonde hair, grey eyes, and stood about a foot shorter than me. From all I could see, they had no tits. They were wearing "Paxton Industries" tee shirts and black cotton shorts.One of them stretched. "I know there's plenty of room down there, but after a couple of hours I start getting claustrophobic."The other smiled. "Come on, Uma, it's not that bad. A little boring maybe..."They both realized I was. "Finally I started flicking at my ears. "I need ear rings," I saidstamping my feet.So Mary pierced my ears and Lourdes found some studs that she put in myears. "You have so lost the bet!" Lourdes said kissing me. At thispoint I looked like any other woman in a basque, panties, fishnets andheels.Mary, who I later learnt was a lesbian and fancied Lourdes like crazy,had always had something against me for stealing Lourdes from her. Atthis point she pulled out her tatoo kit and said I needed a reminder ofthis evening. Lourdes, who had also been drinking, thought this washillarious and suggested a tattoo on my thigh, just above my fishnets,of a rose and then the words "I am just a Sweet tranvestite" around thebase of the rose and "I am a Sexy Bitch" on the other thigh as they boththought the song was as sexist as I was. "But he's my sweet sexist"Lourdes said.I passed out shortly after this and the next morning awoke to findmyself looking somewhat the worse for wear but dressed as a.
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The tabby joined her once the woman’s breathing slowed. Amber eyes studied Helen’s face a moment before the cat bounded to the bed and curled up in the corner beneath the gauze-draped window. The blue fabric stirred gently in the draft. The rhythmic beat of a drum roused Helen from unconsciousness. She sat up slowly, trying to shake the bizarre sensation that she was dreaming. The bedroom was awash in the golden red glow of firelight, which flickered fitfully against the walls. Slowly, the woman turned. This seemed to take forever, it was hard to stay focused. She blinked once at her window and pulled aside the drapes, surprised at the scene in the yard. Several people stood around a bonfire, moving slowly to the beat of a drum. A few of them were singing, but all were dancing, fenced in by a haze that obscured the forest beyond. Somehow, Helen knew it was a harvest dance. She also knew she should be out there. It seemed to happen within a breath, she was standing at the backdoor,.

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