I rolled over onto my back, opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling. Being alone in bed was becoming common for me and I did not miss the presence of Sophie in the same way anymore. Four nights a week, she would spend the night with Tom and then, when she was around, the idea of us having a sex life was impossible. Sophie had made her feelings clear, there would be no pussy for me until I had a big, black cock like Tom.

For some reason though, other than when I needed to release my cum, it did not really bother me. Instead, the thought of Sophie being fucked by all those black men made me jealous but not of her, but of the experience she was having. Thankfully, I had met with Tom’s friend Big J a couple of times and that had shown me a possible new way of living.

Lost in thought for a moment, the sound of a key in the door brought me back into the real world. “Hey Honey, it’s just me,” came the call as Sophie opened the door and entered the house.

“Hi,” I called back but I did not move, instead I just lay there and listened to the sound of her moving around as I wondered what she had been up to the night before.

A rush of water echoed through the apartment, and I realised that she must have decided to shower. Rising from bed, I walked through into the bathroom where, behind the glass door I could see the naked form of my wife under the water. I had not seen her the night before and lying on the floor was the dress that she had worn for Tom. Picking it up, I studied it, tight, black and cum stained it must have only just covered her body.

Dropping it back on the floor, I stepped into the shower, keeping my distance and knelt on the floor. Such a submissive position from me ensured that Sophie would tell me the detail of her experience, after all we had agreed there should be no secrets.

Sophie, her eyes closed, head under the water heard my movement and stepped out of the stream while she wiped the water from her face. “We went to a swingers club last night, one that only black men and their lovers frequent.”

“No cucks?” I thought to myself, but I knew that I needed to keep quiet and listen to her tale.

“We had great fun, eight men took me, each at least 8 inches in length and all of them pumped their gorgeous cum deep into my pussy.”

The story sounded amazing, and I wondered if I would ever have a chance to experience something similar.

“I’m still dribbling cum, and I want you to clean it up.”

Without waiting for my response, Sophie stepped closer to me, her pussy level with my chin. Parting her legs, I inhaled, and my nostrils detected the hint of all the cum that had been left there.  I lowered my head slightly, and Sophie closed the last few inches between us so that when I pushed my tongue out, I was able to reach her labia lips. Instantly, her vagina flinched at the touch and in the process a small amount of cum was pushed out and into my mouth.

I swallowed, savouring the taste of the men who had been fucking my wife and I wondered if there might be a time when I would drink so much cum direct from the men themselves. “You useless cuck,” Sophie mumbled as my tongue worked its magic on her clitoris. She groaned for a moment, “Tom wants to take me on holiday this summer, he knows a great place for us to go where I will be used repeatedly every night.” Another moan came from her lips as I gently nibbled her love button, “and you are not invited.”

Inside I knew that I should be upset and jealous that I was not being invited to go on holiday with my wife but in truth, I found the opposite true. The idea that my wife was now completely separated from me as a lover, that in many ways we were just some sort of friends with benefits excited me. Instead, I had found someone else I wanted to be close to, I wanted to be a lover with, and it was not my wife.

Orgasm complete, Sophie stepped out of the shower, leaving me kneeling just inches from the water. Edging forward, I let the spray cover my face as it washed away the last traces of my wife’s night before.

The water washed over me, waking me up for the day ahead, as outside the cubicle I could hear my wife moving around. “There’s someone at the door,” she said, and I heard her step out of the bathroom before returning a short time later. “You need to hurry up, Tom and Big J have requested our presence.”

Hearing the mention of Big J filled me with excitement and hurriedly I finished my shower and drying myself I rushed to the bedroom. There, standing at the end of the bed was Sophie, already dressed in a denim mini skirt and a white, strapless top. “You need to wear this,” she commented as she pointed at an outfit that lay on the bed.

“Who was at the door?” I asked, trying to avoid studying the outfit.

“It was a delivery, these clothes,” she waved a hand up and down her own body, “and those.” She pointed at the bed again, “there was also a message, it says that we are to meet Tom and Big J in the town in half an hour.”

This time, I did turn my attention to the clothes that had been delivered for me, lacey, black knickers, a green dress and a black pair of heels. “They want me to wear these? In daylight?”

“Yes.” The reply from my wife was to the point and it was clear that she did not want to enter into a debate about it.

Picking up the knickers I slipped them onto my body, tucking my unimpressive cock into them as I did so. Sophie hefted the dress up and over my head, so that it slipped down my body. It was short and low cut, so that it showed off much of my legs and relatively flat chest. There was a thin belt, which I tied around my waist so that the restraint caused me to have a more feminine figure and then finally, I slipped the heels onto my feet. For a moment, I teetered in them as I fought to gain my balance, and Sophie held onto me to ensure I did not fall crashing to the ground.

“You look amazing,” she said as she stepped back, comfortable that I was not going to fall over again. “Now take a seat, and I will do your makeup.”

I sat down at a small dressing table that Sophie kept in the corner of the room and as I looked into the mirror, she covered my face in makeup. Foundation to hide the blemishes in my skin, mascara to emphasise my eyes and lipstick to brighten them and bring out their shape.

When I stood back up, I felt ready in myself, prepared to out myself by walking through the down in the day time dressed as a woman. “Nervous?” I asked and Sophie smiled awkwardly at the question.

“What do you think? We have no way of knowing how people will react to you.”

“Can you do all the talking if we need to, I don’t really want my deep voice to give us away.” Sophie nodded as she stepped towards me, placed a hand on the small of my back and guided me towards the front door.

We stepped outside, my first steps dressed fully as a woman in a public space, and it left me so nervous that I almost fell over as I struggled to balance in my heels. Reaching the lift, I pressed the button, and we waited in silence while the mechanism whirred as it raised the car to our floor.

Before it arrived, the sound of another door being opened reached my ears. The apartment was out of view, round a corner, but I suddenly became conscious of the fact that one of my neighbours was coming.  “Please, please, please,” I whispered as I begged the lift to arrive quicker in the hope that we could enter it and disappear before whoever it was reached the lift.

The lift seemed to hear me, and a loud ping sounded as the car reached our floor and the doors slid open with a swish. Together, Sophie and I entered, and I desperately pressed the button for the ground floor in the hope that I could get the lift doors to close. “Hold the lift please!” it was an older voice, calling from close by and Sophie reached out and grabbed my hand, pulling it away from the button.

“It’s too late,” she whispered as she placed a finger against the buttons in order to hold the doors open.

“Oh thank you,” the voice said as it came round the corner and I found myself face to face with Mrs Morris the kind old lady from down the corridor who always fussed over Sophie and I.

“I was worried I would miss it,” she said as carefully she stepped into the car as her eyes danced over both of us. “Oh, hello Sophie,” she said as she recognised my wife before she turned her attention to me. Her eyes lingered on my face as if she knew it was me but was not certain.

“This is Rob’s sister,” Sophie interrupted, thinking on her feet.

“Oh…” Mrs Morris replied, her mind trying to process the fact as if she wasn’t certain of the statement’s accuracy. “I’m Mrs Morris,” she said, holding out a hand for me to shake.

I stared at the hand for a second, worried that my face with filled with horror, unsure what I should do. “Sorry, Mrs Morris, Chrissie tends to be a bit nervous,” Sophie said, “go on Chrissie, Mrs Morris is being polite.”

Smiling at Sophie and Mrs Morris, I did as I was told, and took the old woman’s hand and shook it gently.

“Wonderful,” Mrs Morris said in response as she turned her attention back to Sophie, “she really is the spitting image of Rob.”

“Yes, they’re twins,” Sophie replied as she tried to stay one step ahead.

“Twins? I didn’t realise Rob even had a sibling.”

“They were estranged for a few years, the divorce and everything.”

“Divorce? I thought I had met Rob’s parents.”

“That was his step-mother, he calls her mother as he really doesn’t get on with his birth mother.”

“Oh,” Mrs Morris did not look convinced by the comments but chose not to question further.

Finally, the lift reached the ground floor and the door opened with the same ping that it had greeted us with when it had arrived. Letting Mrs Morris exit first, she gave a gentle wave of the hand as I grabbed Sophie’s arm and begged her with a look to hang back. The sound of the old woman leaving the apartment block reached my ears and letting out a big breath I realised I had been nervously holding onto it.

“She’s gone, come on,” Sophie said, glancing outside to make sure we were alone and together we stepped out into the foyer. Crossing the space to the front door, Sophie turned the handle and opened it as together we stepped outside into the street.

We walked arm in arm down the street towards the main shopping area where Tom and Big J had told Sophie to meet them. As we did so, we stopped to window shop on more than one occasion and in the process even attracted the odd wolf whistle.

Eventually we got to the bar where our men were waiting for us. Sophie led the way, pulling me by the hand into the dark interior. Instantly, I felt excitement as I passed through the doorway. There, sitting on a stool by the bar was Big J, wearing cargo pants and a vest top that showed off his muscular shoulders and arms. He beckoned to me, and I quickly walked over to him, placing myself within his arms as he placed a hand on my arse.

Sitting next to him was Tom, dressed in a suit that suggested he had just come from an office. Sophie approached him, her body meek and demure in its presentation as she did so. “Ahh, Sophie,” Tom said with a smile, “please take a seat on this stool, facing into the room.” As he spoke, Tom indicated to a stool that was between himself and Big J, and on which he was resting a foot. Doing as told, Sophie lifted herself into the seat and then, I watched as Tom reached forward and made her open her legs.

Looking into the bar, I could see a group of young black men sitting at a table almost directly opposite Sophie and knowing she was unlikely to be wearing knickers I wondered how much of an eyeful they were getting.

The door to the bar opened and a tall, black woman stepped through the door. She wore a grey suit jacket which was buttoned at the waist, and which hid what was obviously an ample pair of breasts underneath. While her long, smooth legs protruded from the short matching skirt that she wore. Each step was exaggerated and emphasised the high stiletto heels that she wore.

Walking towards us, I watched as her hips swayed while her boobs threatened to burst out of the jacket at any moment.  “Hello gentlemen,” she said as she reached Tom and Big J, moving around Sophie and I as she kissed each of them in turn before retiring to a position just in front of my wife.

“This is Sophie, my new girl that I was telling you about,” Tom said eagerly.

“Really,” the newcomer replied, “so tell me Sophie, what are you?”

“I’m fuck meat for black men.”

“Sorry,” the woman replied, “I don’t think the guys sitting at that table behind me quite heard you.” She stepped out of the way so that she was not blocking their view of my wife anymore and smiled, “go ahead Sophie, tell them what you are.”

“Fuck meat for black men.” The comment made the group sitting at the table perk up and as I watched I could see them all grin at each other in hope.

Pleased by the response, the woman grabbed Sophie by the back of the hair and pulled her down from the stool. The, guiding her roughly by the clump of hair, my wife was led over to the group sitting at the table. “Do you want to fuck her?” the woman asked the group.

The members of the group all looked at each other, their eyes wide in astonishment as they considered the question. Then one of them, nodded at the others and turned his attention to the woman and then to my wife. “Yeah, we’ll take her,” he replied.

Pushing Sophie into the man’s lap, the woman seemed to take pleasure in the moment, “fuck her good, and don’t let her tap out.”

“You can be sure of that,” another of the men responded as he rose from his seat and grabbed hold of the fuck meat they had just been handed. I considered saying something or intervening because I suddenly found myself concerned for Sophie’s safety, but I realised that Big J had tightened his grip on my waist.

“Good girl,” Big J whispered in my ear as if he had sensed my unease. “It’s not your place to intervene in another slut’s treatment.”

“What do you mean?” I replied as I turned all my attention on to him.

“Did she not tell you?” Big J asked and I shook my head. “She has now signed her contract with Tom, she has enslaved herself to him.”

“Enslaved?”

“Yeah, she agreed to be his fuck meat and she agreed to consent to anything that he or his girlfriend put her through.”

“Girlfriend?” I asked, astonished for a moment as my mind raced as to who that could possibly be. Then, realising my own stupidity I turned my head to look at Tom, just in time to see him and the woman kissing. “I didn’t realise he had a girlfriend,” I commented in surprise, then looking back at Big J I drew breath in order to ask him the obvious question, but he cut me off.

“No, I don’t have a girlfriend, but I would like to have a t-girl slut.”

I wondered for a moment what he was getting at and then I realised, “you want to make me a full-time woman?”

Big J shrugged his shoulders in reply, “well, is it something you would consider?”

“I didn’t even know the whole thing had gone this far.”

“Really?” Big J held me at arm’s length and looked me up and down, “you came out dressed totally like a woman and you didn’t think it had gone this far?”

“Umm.”

I was not certain how to reply. Big J had made a valid point, while I had dressed to please him I had also happily displayed myself in public as his woman. This was all being driven by Sophie’s desire for black men though so in truth surely, I was “just a cuck!”

The voicing of that thought had not been deliberate, and I realised that everyone was looking at me as I had shouted it out. I looked around, feeling embarrassed at the idea that loads of people had heard me and many of them might even had realised my voice was deeper than it should be but other than the group I was with and the bar man, there was nobody present.

“Is that what you really think?” It was Tom’s girlfriend who spoke and as she approached me, I could see that her eyes were full of concern. “Come on,” she said, taking me by the hand and leading me away from Big J and over to a booth at the back of the bar. “Sit down,” she commanded when we got to it and after I had slid onto the seat, she took a place opposite and waved her hand towards me, as she invited me to speak first.

Still unsure of what to say, I simply stared at her, speechless. “You are feeling confused?” the woman asked finally, having realised that I would not break the silence myself.

I nodded, “I am a cuck?” I said semi rhetorically.

“You really think that?”

Nodding again, I managed to smile slightly, “that is how this all started, watching my wife being blacked.”

“But it is not what you are doing now?”

“No,” I replied, shaking my head. “Now I seem to have become obsessed with Big J and pleasing him and for that, he wants me to be a slut, to dress for him, to perform for him, so that makes me what? Gay?”

“Well, you are obviously gay, after all you like women, but your enthusiasm for Big J, that says to me that you want to be his t-girl slut.”

“Ahh,” I mumbled as the two concepts clashed in my mind again, but my thoughts were broken off by the sound of Sophie returning. She approached Tom, her hair messy while on her face I could see the traces of the cum one of the men had plastered her with.

As I watched, Tom gave her a glass and she squatted in the middle of the bar, placing the glass beneath her and squeezing out the cum that filled her pussy. When Sophie had finished, she walked towards me, glass in hand and placed it on the table, in front of me.

“Perfect,” the woman said, “so here are your choices Chrissie, drink the cum from the glass and prove you are a t-girl slut or stand and lick the cum from the fuck meat and prove you are a cuck.”

“What difference does it make?” I asked, unsure as to why the two options should be mutually exclusive.

“If you lick the cum, then you will be left to be a cuck and Big J will leave you alone. Whereas, drink from the glass and Big J will pay for your full transformation.”

I looked at Sophie, wondering what she was thinking, would she answer the question for me, after all she had indicated that she was uncomfortable with me dressing. This was her chance to end my link to Big J, to leave her as the only slut.

“Fuck Meat,” the woman spoke, addressing my wife as she did so, “what are your thoughts on the matter as it appears that Chrissie would like your opinion.”

“I will go with whatever makes my master Tom happy. If he requires me to live with Big J’s t-girl slut then I will do so.”

Did Sophie really mean that, I wondered as I pondered my situation but instead of studying my wife and wondering what she wanted I suddenly found my eyes wandering towards Big J. I stared at him, studied him, wondered about him and then I realised that my mind was made up. Standing up, I glanced at Sophie and I could see in her eyes that she was secretly feeling hopeful that I would lick her face, that I would be her cuck.  I smiled at her, acknowledging her hidden hope as I did so. Then, picking up the glass, I put the rim to my lips and tipped it, poring the contents into my mouth and down my throat. The decision had been made, the action taken and in that moment Rob the cuck died and Chrissie the slut took over my body completely.

As I looked at Sophie, I could see she was shocked at my decision, but she nobly stepped forward anyway, putting her arms around me and congratulating me. “Well done Chrissie,” she said as I looked over her shoulder at Big J, the man who would now become the centre of my world.