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"Michael why are you wearing those panties?" Mummy," he said, not wondering why all of a sudden he had called hismother mummy instead of mum. "I am really a girl."She, as we must now call her, didn't know why she said that, but itseemed just right."I can see that dear, with your long blond hair, girlish body and thosepanties, you can only be a girl." Yes," chipped in his sister, "you make a lovely girl and it's muchnicer than being a nasty boy. We can go shopping, talk about girliethings and be ever so close, now." Let's get you dressed," said practical Mummy.In no time, Michelle, as she was now to be called, was dressed in one ofher sisters dresses and admiring herself in the mirror. She was soobviously a girl now and no one could possibly recognise her when shewent to school the next day to re enrol as a girl.Mummy had wasted no time and had already spoken to the head mistress ofthe school and three psychiatrists, who all stated on the phone that itdefinitely sounded like Michelle. When we broke, her eyes looked over my shoulder. I turned to face Sara. Over the previous few weeks, we had gotten to know each other better. Just two days before, we had parted, the three of us, with a long, wet kiss between me and Sara, which we finally got Greta to duplicate with her. While she kissed my wife, Sara’s hand had fondled the crotch of my pants, stroking my throbbing rod through the fabric of slacks and underwear.When we’d gotten home, Greta had undressed for bed and called me into the bedroom, where she’d waited wearing only a t-shirt. She’d pushed me to my knees and pressed my face into her wet pussy. I’d tongued her to a powerful orgasm before mounting her and emptying my balls into her in record time.By previous arrangement, we’d left each other alone the day before. Now, I looked at Sara, naked and waiting for me, and wondered if the hiatus had been a good idea. I felt myself hardening in my pants. She grinned at me and reached for my belt. Her hand snaked down to.
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