We called them `The Coven'. A bunch of telesales women whose cackling could be heard from the far end of our open-plan office.
And then, I became one of them. I mean, one of the telesales team.
At first.
In fact, they seemed to be quite a nice bunch, if you overlooked the bawdy laughter which made it impossible for anyone else in the room to concentrate on writing words or adding up figures. But soon I became part of that, even if I didn't laugh quite as loudly.
I was the only guy in the team - there was Melanie - the team lead and married to a minor league footballer, Sandra, the loudest of the bunch, and a real free agent', Jemma, who was gay and between women' (you wish, snorted Sandra), and soon-to-be-married Laura. They were a pretty close-knit team but were fairly welcoming to a bloke. None of them showed any interest other than taking me in as just `one of the girls'.
While we'd go to the pub after work most Fridays, they had plenty of girls' nights, usually on a Saturday. I wasn't invited of course, and I suspected that things got a bit more wild than the usual wine bar banter I was treated to.
But then... it was Laura's hen night. "Paul has to come," said Jemma. "But it's girls only," Laura replied, before relenting "You're right, he's one of us."
"OK," replied Jemma, I've got an idea..."
She took me aside in the staffroom. "It's simple, we make you up as a girl". "I can't see that being very convincing," I laughed.
"It's just a bit of fun - they'll all know it's you anyway. Plus, you might be surprised." Jemma was a bit of a lipstick lesbian', a bit glam and a wee bit goth with dark eyeliner and bright red lips. "So it'll not be a bit insulting to the ladies'?" "Not when I'm finished with you - I love a challenge. Have you seen Ru Paul's Drag Race'?
The night of the hen arrived - a Saturday, at Laura's flat. "So we've got plenty of time to get ready," said Jemma. "Get yourself smooth first - all over!" "But... I'll be all hairless, people will see, when I'm out running. "It's winter, wear a tracksuit, " she retorted. "It'll grow back, it always does and rather too quickly. Though you might get to like it!"
I took her advice; fortunately I'm blond and even the hair on my legs shaved off pretty easily. Though I had had to remove wisps of hair from my hands as Jemma had decided my "look" wouldn't be complete without her doing my nails - in blood red varnish! She'd changed into a classic Little Black Dress with Vuitton pumps (the ones with the red soles) and looked stunning. What a loss to mankind I thought, envying her partner Rhoda.
While my nails were drying, she moved on to my face. I'd feared it might end up a bit dark and goth but Jemma decided rather than going for the drag queen look something a bit less conspicuous would be in order.
She produced a pair of window pane glasses, that had me looking like a plain secretary or school mam, with my hair tied back in a pony tail. "Tights or stockings?" "I always liked stockings - on women, at least". "Men! You'll get to see the inconvenience!" she laughed, before producing a black lace corset.
Quickly wrapping it around me, she proceeded to pull the laces as tight as they would go. And then, a bit tighter! "Another deep breath," she cooed, as I felt my waist shrink by another inch. Despite this, it was incredibly sexy, like some sort of bondage. A matching bra was then placed around me, taking care not to catch my still-wet fingernails on the straps, before Jemma placed some gel inserts in the cups - "to give you a nice rack!" I could tell she was really getting into this.
And then, a figure-hugging silk dress with a high neck and long sleeves, but so short! It barely reached the suspenders, dangling as they awaited my shimmery tan colour, stockings - lycra apparently. I would probably have poked a hole in the stockings even without the hindrance of my sexy red nails, so Jemma slid them up my smooth, hairless legs, straightened the seams at the back, and attached the lace tops to the six clasps. "There," she said brightly, you're almost a woman!"
She then handed me a pair of matching French-cut lacy panties. "I'll let you do the honours," she said, turning away as I slid the gossamer material up my legs. The feeling was incredible as my smooth crotch was encased in silk and I tried to tuck my penis away before it became completely engorged.
All that was required, clothing-wise, at least, was some impossibly high heels - strappy patent leather, with my toes - painted bright red to match my fingernails - poking out. Gazing down at my lyrca-clad legs, I could feel myself getting decidedly aroused.
"So, we come to the most important part of being a woman. Sit".
I awkwardly slumped on the couch. "Ah, now that's not how us girls would do it". I got a bit of a thrill at that - one of the girls!
I then received education on sitting down - first pulling my skirt down at least towards my knees, though as I said, barely covering the stocking tops. Then, placing my bottom on the chair, before crossing my legs, as the lycra swished and my dick strained in its satiny confines.
Finally, walking. In five-inch heels! I staggered a little but managed not to fall over. "WIggle that ass!" Jemma shouted as I paced the room, indeed feeling that the heels were making me sway from side to side. "You look pretty passable - in fact, quite the prick-tease!"
I wasn't quite sure what to say, and as I stood, mouth agape, Jemma moved close. "But do you kiss like a boy or a girl?" she hissed in my ear, before roughly forcing her tongue down my throat. I was completely taken aback but responded, our tongues entwining. I'd always imagined she was the dominant partner, my theory backed up when she pushed me backwards onto the couch - not difficult as I overbalanced on the heels - and clambered on top.
"I thought you were gay?" I exclaimed in between bouts of vigorous French kissing. "I'm a bit more bi, but I'm not interested in what's in your pants... but you might be in mine!" she purred, pushing me down off the couch and inbetween her legs. I lifted the hem of her LBD to find my prize - Jemma wasn't wearing any panties, her neatly-trimmed bush framed by her black garter belt and stockings.
I eagerly went to town on her, teasing her clitoris before plunging my tongue as deep as it would go. She gave a series of breathy whimpers before cumming pretty quickly, which was just as well as my knees were starting to hurt on the wooden floor. "You do that very well!" she breathed in her post-orgasmic glow, before looking me in the eyes.
"We're going to have to do your lipstick again."
We got a taxi to Laura's place where the party was - a little delayed thanks to our diversion at Jemma's flat, so the rest of the gang were already there. Jemma went in first, before announcing her "special guest" for the evening.
Laura, and particularly Melanie looked completely dumbfounded as to who this new arrival was - had Jemma dumped Rhoda and brought her new beau? Sandra was first to twig - "Wait, is that Paul... my god, it is!" she screamed.
A few minutes of questions and general admiration for Jemma's make-up skills, and a few crude innuendoes from Sandra about the contents of my panties, and the party settled down into a standard hen night - lots of drinking, and girly chat that I was, now fully en-femme, not excluded from. Dressed to the nines in my figure-hugging lace minidress and towering strappy sandals, I also didn't feel out of place. Sandra, like Jemma, was in a LBD, the source of much amusement, Laura in blouse and black leather mini (plus L-plates) and Melanie in crop top, spray-on jeans and pink stilettos.
And no party - especially a hen party - would be complete without some games. Spin the bottle was host Laura's suggestion, but with a twist - the `spinner' would be blindfolded, and would have to make out with whoever the bottle was pointing at. I got the feeling that none of the ladies would be doing this for the first time.
Laura, as bride-to-be, was first up, and conveniently perhaps, found herself being snogged by a by-now out-of-control Jemma. "That's enough, ladies," intervened Sandra, who was poised by the bottle. "I really need some cock!" she moaned - turns out she was the only one present not keen on exploring her lesbian tendencies.
I raised my hand to "volunteer" but Jemma interjected. "Not you, that will spoil the illusion," she said. "I've got this," smiled Shona, tapping the side of her nose mysteriously.
Sandra took her spin and after some wrestling over the bottle, saw it stop pointing at Melanie. "Got a treat for you, Sandra," said Mel, getting to her feet and, stood, legs splayed, as Sandra, on all fours and blindfold applied, was guided to kneel at her friend's feet. Laura guided Sandra's manicured hands to Melanie's left thigh, which, it was now clear, had a most unladylike bulge stretching halfway down her trouser leg.
Sandra ran her nails up the (I presumed!) fake cock, before alighting at Melanie's zipper, and pulled her fly down with her teeth, before undoing the top button and pulling off the jeans to reveal the most realistic-looking dildo. "Suck it, suck it!" went up the chant, and Sandra needed no second bidding, licking the tip like it was a monstrous ice lolly, before devouring the head.
Melanie was clearly enjoying this; little wonder, as Jemma explained in my ear that the dildo was double-ended and Sandra's movement - by now pretty vigorous - was also getting the owner of the phallus pretty hot and bothered.
With Sandra pretty much deep-throating the cock with her own fingers up her dress, Melanie was face-fucking her friend, each stroke driving her own end of the bargain into her by now-soaking pussy. And then, the climax, literally, to this routine, as Melanie fumbled at the base of the dildo and released a stream of fake cum from the balls into Sandra's eager mouth.
Both ladies seemed to come around the same time, before flopping down in an exhausted, sticky heap.
There followed something of an intermission for drinks, and for Sandra and Melanie - and the rest of us - to catch our breath.
Then, my turn for the bottle, as Laura blindfolded me, leaving me feeling trepidation and slightly vulnerable. However, having seen Sandra's mainstream desires catered for I felt fairly confident that I could expect a thrilling few minutes.
Laura guided my hand to the bottle and I spun it and waited. "Aw, lucky old Mel!" exclaimed Jemma, leading me to realise that rather than getting some pussy I'd instead be having a taste of the same cock that Sandra had just enjoyed. "That's the power of the bottle!" I heard Laura laugh.
So, having seen Sandra's floorshow I knew the routine. I sat on my knees as Melanie approached, and then ran my hands up and down her jeans until I came across the monstrous phallus contained within. I swear I could feel the veins pulsing through the denim, as I ran my fingernail up and down before undoing the zip.
The cock popped out, brushing my nose. It was still slightly damp from its previous use, slick from Sandra's saliva. "Kiss it!" shouted the ladies and I obliged, putting my lips to the tip before brushing it with my tongue. The latex seemed warm to the touch, as I engulfed the head with my hungry mouth.
The dildo seemed to get even bigger in my mouth as I tried to swallow as much of it as I could, with Melanie showing no mercy, pushing further into my throat, before grabbing the back of my head and driving her cock in and out. I started to feel light-headed, unable to take in air and my excitement turned to panic as my protestations were, I think, taken for signs of ecstasy, as Melanie's cock started to spray streams of fake cum across my tonsils.
I found myself on the floor and, repositioning myself on my knees, realised that my panties were sodden with cum. I must have passed out during my climax - and felt somewhat cheated at missing out on what seemed to have been an earth-shattering orgasm. "You can take your blindfold off now," cackled Lorna, but when I did, rather than seeing Melanie and her strapon, instead I found myself staring down the barrel of a real cock. A real monster of a cock. Which I had, presumably, just sucked off and whose contents I was now digesting.
"Manners, Paula," said Laura. "A lady always cleans up her mess". The glistening cock was attached to who I later found was the hen night stripper, Gennaro, who smiled as he looked down on me. "That was the best blowjob ever," he said in his thick Italian accent. "You are one tremendous cocksucker." I wasn't sure what to say. I'd not been expecting my initiation as one of the girls to move on quite as quickly, but was I happy with the situation? I suppose the fact that my cock was now rapidly hardening again suggested not.
"So, get licking," said Laura, pointing to the glob of cum forming at Gennaro's tip. I decided to embrace my new status as No. 1 Cocksucker and hungrily devoured his piece once again, removing any cum that hadn't already made its way into my willing mouth. I then got rather unsteadily to my feet, and kissed my beau full on the kips, transferring his cum from my mouth to his in a long and passionately sloppy kiss.
The stud looked a little shocked. Had I gone too far? But then he broke into a big smile and said "Cheeky!" before making to hug me.
But instead, he grabbed me and threw me over his big shoulder, leading me to emit a girlish squeal that surprised myself! He then carried me over to the couch and placed me face down over the arm, before quickly pulling my dress up to my waist, pulling down my cum-filled panties, and spreading my cheeks. He then proceeded to eat me out, his tongue probing my butt and seeing me into throes of ecstasy.
"Please, I want your cock in me!" I pleaded.
He paused. "You're a bad girl," he smiled before putting me over his lap and proceeding to spank me across my now-reddening buttocks. I squealed, again but this time from the pain rather than any pleasure. "Shhh," he cooed, before grabbing my wet panties and, as I yelped in pain, stuffing them in my mouth to stifle my screams.
My pained protestations soon turned to moans of delight however, as he returned to my pussy, pushing in one finger, then two, dribbling saliva to offer as much lubrication before the inevitable.
Gennaro then flipped me over onto my back and, placing a cushion under my bottom and lifting my legs over his shoulders, began to push at my back door. I wasn't sure I'd be able to take his massive member, but as he gently eased it in I was able to accommodate more and more, the burning sensation being more than outweighed by the incredible feeling of being impaled by my first cock.
As he ploughed deeper, I felt fuller physically and emotionally, realising that I was born to serve well-hung stallions like this man. After an age, his cock splattered the inside of my pussy with cum, and my own cock rose up, heralding an orgasm like I'd never felt before, emanating somehow from my core and shaking my whole body.
My clitty pumped my own seed all over my beautiful dress and even splattering my face, little rivulets running down my cheek and onto my ruby red lips.
As I lay in a state of post-orgasmic bliss, I remembered that I was at a hen party, with the hens clearly having masturbated themselves into a similar state to myself and Gennaro.
It was Jemma who regained her composure, and her breath, to speak first. "Well, Paula, looks like you have found your true place in this world - on your knees, taking cock in both ends!"
"You can be one of the girls any time," added Laura.
"Double wedding?"