Date: Wed, 12 Oct 2011 18:57:11 +0200
From: Amy Redek <adultreading@gmail.com>
Subject: The Hostel. Chapter One. (TG/tv)

  This story is for persons of eighteen years or over. All comments, good
or bad are welcome and all will be answered.

  Chapter One

     Not many people can name a date and time on when something happens
that changes their lives. They can remember where they were when President
Kennedy was assassinated, but it was his life that was affected, not
theirs. For most people, things change gradually and spaced out in their
life span. They might have had to make a decision at one point, but if
asked many years later, they cannot put a date and time to that particular
episode. I can't say where I was when Kennedy was shot in Dallas, but I do
know the year, the day and the time that my life changed.

     I am not naming the year, but it was on the 25th August at eight
thirty five in the evening. The place was a holiday camp where I was having
my annual holiday with my wife Victoria, though I'd always call her Vicky,
and our two children, Françoise and Helene. My name is Rene Artois, French
by birth and I constantly have to put up with the greeting of `Allo Allo'
when I am first introduced.

     I am not going into the details of my parents, just to say that they
came to England at the outbreak of the Second World War and stayed there. I
grew up and was educated in London, met Victoria, fell in love and got
married. The two children were born a year apart and we live in South
London in a pleasant semi detached house in Kingston.

     I am the manager of an estate agents and like the job. The pay is good
and of course, the more houses we sell or rent out, the bigger my bonus,
but with the present cost of living, it soon disappears.

     That's why we could only afford a holiday in one of the holiday camps
that are dotted around the country. Our next door neighbours were more than
that dubious appellation, but were our very best friends, and would come on
holiday with us. Phillip and Joan Morris, him having to suffer the same as
me by people asking him if he had any cigarettes going free. They too had
two children, Leslie and Tracy. If either of us two families would have had
another child, then we would have qualified for the Government statistics
by having two point five children.

     Phillip was the manager of a local bookmakers office, and he too
worked on a bonus system, but suffered the same as me by losing it with the
cost of living.

     We almost lived in each other's half of our adjoining semi, and it was
only natural that we went on holidays together. We got on well and so did
the children. This was our fourth holiday together on this particular year
when we were at this seaside camp.

     It was on our first week when we were watching the stage show that
they put on for the campers, and it was announced that in two days time
would be the talent contest. Now I have said that I can name the day and
time that this was announced, but I cannot for the life of me remember what
the prize for the winner was.

     Now Vicky, Phillip and Joan knew that I had a good singing voice and
urged me to put my name down to enter. I didn't want to do it as I would be
competing up against teenagers who would probably do better than me, and
look better too. Now I'm not blowing my own trumpet, but I was at that time
quite good looking. Twenty four years of age, slim of build and perfectly
fit. We were sitting round a table drinking beers when this announcement
was made, and that was when they ganged up on me.

     `Come on Rene,' said Phillip, `I've heard you singing and it's good.'
This approbation was echoed by the others. `You could knock spots off those
that we've heard on that stage so far.' Which was true, I had to admit.

     `But this is really for the youngsters,' I protested.

     `Not if you had a gimmick,' Joan said, putting her oar in.

     `Dress up as a woman,' suggested Vicky, `and when you finish your
song, take off your wig. It'll be sensational!'

     `Don't be silly,' I replied, `besides, we haven't got a wig.'

     `I've got one,' Joan said, crushing that argument.

     `That would be one for the book,' laughed Phillip. `I bet you the
drinks for the rest of the holiday if you do that and dress as a woman and
sing a song on the stage,' and that was a strong temptation as we did drink
quite a bit and that meant a saving of quite a few pounds.

     `No. You'll only laugh at me if I was to do that, and then take the
piss afterwards as well,' I said.

     `He's the same size as me,' said Vicky, `so I can fit him out in
clothes.'

     `I've got a gorgeous wig that he can wear. Boy, I can just see him in
it! He'll look great. Especially if you let him wear that slinky dress
you've got Vicky.'

     `Yes, you're right. I can do his make-up too,' enthused Vicky. I
looked helplessly at Phillip, but he was no help and only grinned and
agreed with what our wives were saying. I suppose it was, well that's what
I'm blaming it on, that the amount of drink I'd taken in that night that I
finally agreed. So my name was put down for this so called talent contest.

     The two women had fun getting me dressed up for this show. The only
problem was shoes, but they found a pair of low heeled shoes that fitted. I
wouldn't have Joan in the caravan as Vicky helped me get dressed in her
underwear. I don't know why, but it was the first time I felt embarrassed
to stand naked before my own wife as she laid out the clothes that I would
be wearing. The dress was hanging up from a knob of an overhead cupboard,
and on the bed were a pair of stockings, a suspender belt, bra and panties.

     I'd been to the communal showers and was nice and clean as I sat down
on the bed as she helped roll the stockings up my legs, which I must say,
didn't have a lot of hairs, so they didn't look too bad. It's when she put
the suspender belt round my waist and started to fix the stocking tops to
the clips that I got a hard on. Now Vicky wasn't one that really went for
oral sex, but she actually gave me a quick suck as she did up the studs.

     `That's for luck,' she said with a smile.

     Then came the panties and bra, which she filled with tissues to pad
them out. It was at this point that Joan came in with the wig and stifled
her laughter as she saw me dressed in this female garb.

     `Not bad,' she said when she could control herself. `With this,' the
wig she waggled, `the dress and make-up, he'll look gorgeous.'

     `Shut up,' I growled, but had a kind of glow inside of me. Vicky then
sat before me and put some base cream on my face, I had shaved a little
while before, and then slightly rouged my face. The eyeliner and mascara
was next leaving the lipstick till last. She wouldn't let me see the
finished product until I had put on the dress and they both saw that the
wig was settled properly on my head. Then they finally let me look in the
mirror at myself.

     I was amazed at how I looked. If I didn't know it was myself, I would
have said that it was a really lovely looking woman staring back at me. It
was the wig that was the crowning touch that actually made me look like a
woman. I nearly thumped Phillip, as did Joan, when he was allowed to see
me.

     `Well if I didn't know better I'd probably start to chat you up
tonight. You look stunning.' That was when I threatened him as well as
Joan. He laughed, holding his hands up. `No honestly. He looks just great.'

     `Since when has a bookmaker spoken honestly?' Joan asked.

     `I'm only the manager. I can speak the truth.' He then put on a
falsetto voice. `Oh darling. If it wasn't for my wife here, I could kiss
you myself.'

     `In your dreams,' Vicky interposed. `But joking aside, what do you
think? With his singing and then at the end, whips off the wig...'

     `It'll bring the house down,' said Joan

     `He'll win it and I will lose on the bar bill,' said Phillip.

     So with a coat round my shoulders and after two swift gin and tonics,
I was hustled from the caravan to the centre where the main hall was. I was
bustled into the back to find myself in with about twelve other would be
winners of the contest. I seemed to be the oldest and much to my surprise,
I was offered a chair by one of the organisers and addressed as Miss.

     God was I nervous sitting there dressed as a woman. Fretting until I
saw someone light up a cigarette and I was quickly over to the man and
begged him for one.

     `Certainly Miss,' he said as he offered me one from his packet and lit
it for me.

     Bloody hell, I thought, even he took me for a woman as I puffed on the
cigarette as the first one went out to perform. I didn't know it at the
time, but Phillip had put in a word that I was nervous and it would be best
if I was left till the last. I was that nervous that I smoked at least four
of that poor man's cigarettes while I waited for my turn, watching them all
go out one by one. I promised the man that I'd buy him a carton if I won. I
got a nice pat on the bum from him when, after all the others had gone out
and it was my turn.

     `Now for our last contestant,' I heard the camp entertainer announce
as I was ushered up into the wings. `Let's hear a good applause for Miss
Stella Artois.'

     What a piss take, I thought as I was pushed out onto the stage to face
the crowd of holiday makers. I managed to make the walk in that tight dress
to the front of the stage, not being able to see much beyond the front rows
because of the lights. I suppose this helped that I couldn't see my wife
Vicky and Phillip and Joan. I heard my music begin and I took the
microphone and started to sing. About halfway through, I really got into
the mood of being a woman up there on the stage and sang and acted as I
thought a woman should. I was astounded at the applause when I finished,
and the decibels went through the roof when I took my wig off and bowed to
them.

     To say I won the contest doesn't seem enough. I felt fired up by the
adrenalin that flowed through my body at the applause. Even more so, when
all the contestants were paraded to be judged by the applause, and when I
went back to the front of the stage, there was no doubt who was the
winner. I was asked to do a reprise, and so with the wig back on, I sang
the song again, and I got a massive erection that was only constrained by
the panties as they cheered and clapped me when I finished.

     `Well done, well done,' said Phillip, clapping me on the back when I
finally got to the table where they were sitting.

     `Lovely darling, absolutely lovely,' said Vicky, giving me a
kiss. Joan also kissed me, saying much the same thing. I sat down and
accepted gratefully, the pint of beer that Phillip had waiting for me. I
was still in the dress with the wig on and felt like a million dollars
sitting there, getting these admiring looks from everybody. It was quite
heady, especially as they knew that I was a man only dressed up as a
woman. What, I wondered, would be the response if they didn't know that
fact. It was this thought that set me on the path to what I do now.

     `If I didn't know better, I would try to chat you up myself,' said
Phillip, finishing off a pint of beer and not knowing that he'd already
said that once before. He got another thump from Joan for this, but laughed
and went and got another round of drinks for us all. I even found it sexy
having my leg stroked under the dress by my own wife Vicky as she smiled at
me. complimenting me on a magnificent performance. Her words.

     I felt quite light headed when we went back to our caravans, and after
kissing Joan goodnight, I even got a kiss from a drunken Phillip who got a
slap from Joan.

     `Well she looked so gorgeous,' he hiccupped.

     I was surprised for the second time by Vicky, for when she'd helped me
off with the dress, she pulled my still half erect penis out of the panties
and gave me several minutes of sucking and then insisted that I kept the
underwear on as I made love to her.

     Now I've remembered what the prize was for winning the contest. Well I
didn't actually remember. It was as we were checking out, we found that we
had a free weeks holiday for next year at the camp. But it wasn't that what
was surprising to me, it was being approached by a man as I let Vicky
settle the bill.

     `Mr Artois. My name is Jerome Kershaw. I control several clubs in
London and was pleasantly surprised to see someone who had talent in this
backwater. If you would like to take this up full time, I can guarantee you
almost permanent work as a female impersonator in my clubs. Here's my card,
and if you ever think of taking it up professionally, give me a call.' I
thanked him and put his card away in my pocket.

     I can't deny it, but that card burnt a hole in my pocket for a whole
two weeks before I rang the number. I had never felt so high as I had stood
on that stage to the applause and the fact that I was dressed as a woman. I
began having fantasies while in bed at night and they went way out in their
extremes. Some of these I later played out and found others that I hadn't
dreamt of.

     One of the latter involved Phillip and that happened not long after
our holiday. Vicky and Joan had gone off with the children for a party and
reckoned that they wouldn't be home till at least seven. Phillip and I were
having a lunchtime beer in our kitchen when they left. We chatted for a
while before the holiday cropped up.

     `I'd like to see you dressed again as you were that night,' he'd
said. `You looked absolutely fantastic.' I demurred, but when he bet me
dinner for four, I couldn't resist the offer. Also, I must confess, that I
had wanted an excuse to dress up that way once again. So we went upstairs
and he sat on the bed as I stripped off my man's clothes and re-dressed
again as a woman. I didn't bother with the make-up, but even without it,
the wig more than compensated for the fact that I still looked like a
woman.

     So much so, that when I sat down on the bed, Phillip put his arm
around my shoulders and kissed me. I can't say I was surprised, dressed as
I was, but the thing was that I actually wanted him to do it. Our kiss was
deep and his hand was constantly running up and down my thigh. He rolled
over on top of me and I could feel he had an erection as I had. He was
actually believing in the fact that he was kissing a woman, especially when
his hand kept running over the suspenders that were attached to the
stocking tops.

     Before we knew it, his erection was out of his trousers and he placed
my hand on it, and I did, rubbing it and getting a thrill at rubbing
another man's cock.

     `Oh Rene,' he breathed into my ear as my hand moved on him. `Don't
stop.' I felt his hand start to push my head away from our kissing, and,
offering no excuses, went down and took his erection in my mouth. This was
my first time in a homosexual act of oral sex. His cock was hard, hot and
solid as I took the head of it in my mouth. Feeling the heat and throbbing
pulse as I closed my lips round it and sucked upon him. He gave out a groan
and moved to give me more space to move. I moved my head up and down on his
shaft, my hand taking hold of the soft skin that covered the iron bar
beneath it.

     I felt the slight swelling of his member and was surprised at the
coming of him into my mouth. His hips had started to buck, but I held onto
his cock as he came, taking it all and then swallowing it and licking him
as he began to subside.

     So Phillip and I became secret lovers and I found out that I was
bi-sexual. I liked fucking my wife, or any other woman if they had been
available, but I also found that I liked the feel, touch and taste of
another man's organ.

     It was a week later that we were alone together and he asked if he
could fuck me while I was wearing the underwear. Just getting into the
swing of realising my true nature, agreed to this, providing he would suck
on me in exchange for my favour in this. He agreed, so I had him, for the
first time, suck on my erection, working me as I had him till I came,
though if he swallowed it, I don't know. But it was nice to be relieved in
the way that Vicky wouldn't do. Then it was time for me to turn round and
accept the final initiation into homosexuality by having another man take
me from the rear. Not only had I turned him on by being dressed in female
underwear, I'd turned myself on to believing that I was a woman, and was
about to be fucked as one.

     With my stockings and suspender belt on, no panties, I knelt on the
bed while he put on a condom and got some cream. Then I felt the cold cream
touch my rear as he nestled his cock at my entrance. Taking a deep breath,
I waited, and then felt him push himself into me. My body reacted and tried
to stop him, but he pushed and entered me. I felt him expand my backside
more than it had ever been done before. There wasn't as much pain as I
thought there would be as he came into me, pushing further in till I felt
his thighs touch mine. This was as far as he was going to go, but it was
great having, and feeling that throbbing flesh inside, the heat melting the
cream as he started to shaft me.

     His hands were firm as he held my hips, moving in and out as he fucked
me, and I drooled as I revelled in this new experience. He didn't last
long, this being our first time in this position, bucking and ramming into
me hard as he came into me and the condom. I felt the throb and pulsation
as he came, giving me short sharp jabs, slapping his thighs up tight
against mine, before he groaned and slowly folded himself over my back,
bearing me down onto the bed.

     We lay like this for several minutes before he pulled out, making me
whimper at the withdrawal, but we were soon back together, kissing each
other. We were somewhat abashed as we both got dressed later, appearing
self conscious as we did so. But I took him into my arms when fully dressed
and kissed him and said that we had nothing to be ashamed of as it was
something that we had both wanted.

     From then on, it was much easier and more comfortable to be able to
strip off our clothes and have sex together, though I didn't get to fuck
him then. The odd suck or two, but it was me that came to crave his cock,
either in my mouth or up in my rear.

     I was at work in my office when I remembered the card that had been
given me by the man as we had left the holiday camp. I had found that I
liked dressing up as a woman, and if I could sing as well. Well! What had I
to lose by giving him a ring?

     He was most affable over the phone and would most certainly be pleased
to give me an audition at one of his clubs. The date was set and now I had
a week to practice the art of making myself up as a woman. This was more
difficult than I had thought, buying cosmetics and clothing and keeping it
all a secret from Vicky as I sneaked off to practice this art.

     But it sufficed and I attended this audition in his club, being
watched by the club's manager and others, and at the finish, was applauded
and accepted on the spot. He'd introduced me as Stella Artois and that was
the name that I used from there on in. I didn't tell him that Artois was my
real name and he did ask. I explained that I was moonlighting as it were,
and could only perform during the week and not at weekends, or not for the
moment anyway.

     I had to tell Vicky that I had got an extra job, singing in the
evening. She objected to this, but with the knowledge that it would give us
some more money, finally accepted that the extra money would come in handy
in the way of clothes for the children and other small luxuries it would
bring. The downside being that I wouldn't be at home in the evenings during
the week.

     What I didn't make quite clear was that I would be singing as a
transvestite in a sleazy night club, also that I became a male whore, being
picked up on my first night at the club.

  *