Date: Sun, 25 Nov 2001 21:00:08 -0000
From: Beverly Taff
Subject: Dog Day Afternoon 3

     After a few months, I was ready to receive
the implants.   The donor puppies where born and
the most genetically compatible bitch was
selected.   I was saddened to think that she was
going to grow up with absolutely no sexual
function but my needs were greater.   The team
explained that at least the puppy wouldn't die
and she would make a useful guard dog.
     "Just think of her as a spayed bitch
Beverly.   Don't anthropomorphise the animal,"
encouraged the doctor.
     I nodded my head as the anaesthetic needle
went in and that was the last thing I
remembered.
     I woke to find that I had been out for a
couple of weeks.     The doctor explained that
they had kept me thus sedated to avoid any pain
and to keep a close eye on all my vital signs.
I had to admit that I now felt little pain.
There was a slight irritation in my groin and I
was desperate to examine my new anatomy.   The
team helped me off my bed and set me up for my
first conscious gynaecological examination.   I
was nervous but the doctor assured me that they
had been examining me twice a day whilst I was
unconscious to ensure the implants were OK.
     "Everything has taken successfully Beverly.
As the puppy implants grow to maturity the
hormones and stuff will take effect.   In nine
months you will be a fully functioning female."
     I examined my new arrangements in the big
mirror and smiled nervously.
     "Will I get sensations like a woman
doctor?"
     "Of course.    Watch.   I will touch your
new clitoris and you can tell me what you feel."
     I watched his knowledgeable fingers reach
into my groin and gently caress the residual
penile tissue that had once been my fraenum.
A surge of pleasure radiated from my groin and I
found my pelvis thrusting upwards to meet his
fingers.    The doctor smiled appreciatively.
     "There, see?    Everything as it should be.
We concentrated all the nerve endings into that
one little bud. It's infinitely more erotic and
sensitive than your old penis ever was.
You'll be free to leave here in a week or so,
but keep in touch if there are any problems.
Don't go having sex until the scars are healed
properly."
     "How long will that be?"  I asked.
"Hard to tell.   Give yourself a vaginal
examination every night and when you feel you
are ready, try masturbating carefully with a
dildoe.   One of the good things about this new
procedure is that you don't have to retain an
artificial 'keeper' in your new vaginal
scabbard. That said however, you shouldn't go
with a man until you are fully confident that
you can masturbate yourself to orgasm and treat
your vagina as any other woman might.    Men can
get quite rough in their passion you know and
your new equipment is still a little small.   I
wouldn't like to see you getting hurt."
     "Yeah, tell me.   I spent a childhood of
that."   I mumbled just audibly enough for him
to understand.
     The doctor's expression softened as he
realised what had happened to me during my
childhood years in care.
     "I can't repair any mental scars Beverly.
I can only wish you luck and happiness.
You're a female now so I hope you find what
you're looking for."
     With those words he helped me up and I
returned to my bedroom.
     There, alone, I examined my exciting new
anatomy intimately.      It was fascinating.
Somehow, even my new vagina was soft and moist,
'Just like a real one.     It was a little tight
though.   I could just get one finger up inside
me.    The doctor had reassured me that it was
still a puppy cunt.  When it grew to full size
I'd be able to handle a man provided I took some
care.    That was the reason they had chosen a
larger breed; an Alsatian.
     'This new experimental stuff was really the
business,' I concluded.
For the first time, my panties fitted perfectly.
I had brought lots of new lingerie with me and I
gloried in the smooth faultless lines of my new
skimpy pants.    Next I got dressed and admired
the new outfit that I had purchased for exactly
this occasion.
     I savoured the moment as I smoothed my
small tits into my regular bra and wondered when
the ovaries would mature and cause my tits to
begin to grow. I couldn't wait.
     After the week had passed, I drove back
across the desert with the doctor.   He
accompanied me on the internal flight because he
was going on to Europe whilst I was returning to
America.      At the international airport we
parted company.       I booked into a hotel
whilst he transferred immediately to the Paris
flight.   My flight to New York was the next
morning so I had a whole night to see the town.
     That night I went clubbing.   The tranny
Internet guide was ingrained in my brain so I
had no difficulty finding the well-hidden secret
clubs.    The small hours found me back in my
hotel having learned a lot more than I had
bargained for about some third world clubs and
even weirder floorshows.    It hadn't changed
one bit from 'Casablanca' and Humphrey Bogart's
time.    They catered for just about every taste
and deviation.   The number of offers an
unaccompanied girl could receive within an hour
was quite breathtaking.     Fortunately I had
dressed conservatively and made scrupulously
proper arrangements for transport.    A girl
alone in a foreign city couldn't be too careful!
     The next day I returned home.    After a
restful transatlantic flight, I transferred at
New York then took an internal flight back to my
home city. There I met my old boss and was glad
to learn that my job was still open.    He was
fascinated to learn about the treatment and
agreed to keep an eye on me.    I was grateful
for it meant I had proper medical supervision.
After discussing the treatment, he explained the
situation about the club.
     "Nobody keeps this place as clean as you do
Beverly. All the girl's have been complaining
and lots have said they'll only return when
you're back.    I realise how important a clean
place is.    Take it easy for now and when you
feel up to it you can settle into it easily.
There's a pay rise for you if you'll stay."

     My funds were exhausted but I was surprised
to learn that other club owners had expressed an
interest in my cleaning services.    My boss
looked a little sheepish as he offered me a
higher wage but I was not prepared to be
vindictive.    He had given me a job when I was
down in the gutter and paid me the going rate
for a menial domestic. It was only after he
realised that ordinary trannies and T.G's were
as fussy as real girls about clean toilets that
he realised how useful I was.   In those early
days though he had been too busy getting the
club up and running.    Money had been tight.
He hadn't been able to pay me much.
     More importantly, he had provided me with a
safe, separate private bedroom and I had to be
thankful for that.   I liked him.    He was a
genuinely sympathetic, compassionate man.
Many doctors were of course.   It was a
vocational thing.    His maltreatment at the
hands of his colleagues coupled with all the
ridicule attached by them to his transvestism
proved to me.    He was a fellow traveller who
had also walked the walk as well.
We were similar souls walking the same path.

     Now I was back with a new pay rise and some
improvements to my domestic arrangements, I
could get by quite well.   I was actually
beginning to save money from the extra tips.
He began to consider me as a sort of partner and
one night after the club had closed we chatted
into the dawn.     We agreed to make some big
changes to the club and I offered to become a
minor partner.    The takings had risen rapidly
when the regulars learned I was back and the
boss was soon able to take a business plan to
the bank.
     Together, we bought the partially derelict
building next door and soon the club had many
more facilities.   We extended both basement
areas and built a larger dance floor.   The old
dance floor became a club area with tables and a
small stage for drag shows and stuff.
Next we created a new and bigger changing area
with proper private shower facilities.   My
Boss, Jack, was all too aware of the need for
some professional people to maintain their
anonymity.    He'd been there as well!
     As the club expanded, we added a new small
second restaurant cum bar on the ground floor,
this was for the regular trannies who had come
out and openly declared their lifestyle.    The
first floor restaurant was a more discreet place
where the secret trannies could find escape.
Access was now by membership only.
Finally, and most importantly for me, we built
two new larger self-contained apartments.  The
one at the back for me was built overlooking the
new garden and the front apartment was built for
Jack and his wife.   It overlooked the street
corner.
     Yes that's right, Jack, my boss, was a
heterosexual, married transvestite.    His wife
was a tolerant woman and happy to see her
husband finally content and successful.
Now he could indulge his transvestism whenever
he wanted, he was far less stressed.
Consequently he was a much sweeter individual
who treated his wife well and loyally.
Occasionally she came down to the club and slept
over but mostly Jack kept it as an emergency
sleep over if he was too tired to drive home.
His young children never came down to the club.
They had no idea about their father's
alternative lifestyle and Jack was a stickler
for the law.
     By the time I had moved into my new
apartment I noticed the changes in my body.   My
tits were growing at last but most alarmingly I
noticed eight tiny buds growing up my tummy.
They had started as eight itching little pimples
but soon it was obvious what they were.
I phoned the doctor in Africa for an explanation
and got a shock.
     "They must be the bitch tits Beverly.   We
had to interconnect a lot of the puppy's
reproductive system to your own system. I had
hoped they wouldn't show under the skin, but
obviously they have grown through.
Fortunately they shouldn't grow into big human
breasts so they'll stay below your waistline
provided you wear fairly high-waisted knickers.
It was easier to implant the puppy's whole
system rather than just bits of it."
     I sat silent and worried as he elaborated
further.
     "You've got the whole works inside you Bev,
bitch womb, bitch vagina, bitch ovaries and
bitch tits.
     "Does that mean I can have- have- puppies?"
     I squealed.
     There was a longish silence before he
     answered thoughtfully.
     "I-   I wouldn't think so.    I can't be
sure though, it's quite possible.       If those
nipples have shown up, there might be other
complications.    Do you want to return and have
it all reversed?"   He finally offered.
I paused nervously.       The last thing I
wanted was to return to a life of pills and
expense.              Besides, removing my new
vagina was a definite none starter.     I hadn't
been with any men but I knew from the size of my
dildoes and my bitter childhood experiences,
that my bitch cunt could take a human dick.
It would still be a little tight though.
Don't forget that I had once been a boy in care
and knew plenty about dick sizes.   Four years
of abuse in care made sure of that!   I sat
silent in thought clutching the phone as I
summed up the situation.
     'Most men liked a tight cunts, didn't
they,' I told myself.
     I had recently been toying with the idea of
trying out full sex with a man and was
discreetly checking out the club for a less well-
endowed man.
     Now, to have it all reversed; to lose my
only chance of ever fulfilling my dream of
complete womanhood seemed unimaginable. I knew I
was fully capable of sex.    The natural
moistness and lubrication of my cunt was proof
of that.    I had something I knew that other
transsexuals certainly lacked, a naturally
lubricating cunt!     They always had to find
some artificial way of lubricating themselves
before sex.   I had the real thing!        To
lose my new natural girly functions now would be
a disaster.
     No, I decided I wanted to keep my pussy
even if it was a bitch's.   I decided to wait
and see so I replied down the phone.
     "Well, I think I'll wait a while doctor.
I'll keep my vagina for now.    Apart from the
extra bitch tits, everything else is working
fine.
I just won't tell my lovers they've got their
dick in a bitch's cunt."
     The doctor let out a soft involuntary
chuckle before replying.
     "Oh you're never a bitch Beverly, you're
too sweet for that.   Everybody at the clinic
liked you.    If you want to reverse the
procedure in the future, don't hesitate to
contact me again.   I'm always here and you were
my first volunteer.    I have to keep in touch
with you anyway; the long-term feedback on your
progress is essential.    I will certainly
change my procedures though from now on.    Your
results have been a huge boost to progress.
     Just one thought though, don't go sleeping
with any dogs."
"Wha!" I screeched,     "D'you mean I might get
pregnant or something?"
     "It's not impossible Beverly.    As I said
just now, if everything else is as you say, it
might be the case.   I would like you to come
back in about a year just so that I can correct
any problems in that quarter."
     I swallowed nervously.
     'Shit!'  I thought.   'Pregnant!  To a
bloody dog!   No way!'
     After more discussion with advice and tips,
I replaced the phone and turned to look at
myself in the mirror.    The eight nipples rose
from my pubic patch in a sort of flattened
diamond almost like an octagon.   The top two
peeped coyly above the low dipped waistband of
my panties and I frowned as I realised I would
have to wear slightly higher waisted panties.
Fortunately, I could still wear thongs and such
provocative stuff because my butt was now just
perfect.
     Real girls would have killed for a butt
like mine and my newly growing tits were every
man's wet dream.   I touched my bitch tits
lightly and a slow tingle radiated to my human
breasts and groin.
     'Crickey!    They even felt like human
nipples, all bloody eight of them!'
     Recognising that I was turning into a
veritable 'babe', I chose my most unprovocative
overall and flat working slippers then made my
way down to the club.     This was my defensive
uniform to avoid any unwanted attention from any
casual visitors who dribbled through the public
parts of the club during the normal daytime.
The area was becoming a bit of a tourist thing
what with the 'gay village' and stuff.
     The nighttime regulars treated me with more
respect.               The club had become a
sort of 'drop-in' station where many sexually
dysfunctional individuals turned up looking for
support and succour to their solutions.    The
tranny society ran an ad-hoc chat clinic during
the afternoons and Jack found that many callers
stopped by to have a sympathetic talk and a bite
to eat.     The lunch-time crowd were good
spenders and several high rollers would travel
across town to indulge their peccadilloes during
a their lunch break.
     The private part of the club had a discreet
rear entrance were those who were not ready to
'come out' could slip down the side alley
without being noticed.     We were gathering a
good reputation and the cafe served plain
wholesome food for reasonable prices.
     The private restaurant was on the second
floor so casual passers by could not see who was
dining inside.    There, the secret cross
dressers felt safe from prying eyes during their
lunch breaks.   Mostly they snatched a bite to
eat and simply removed their jackets and
waistcoats to reveal the shadowy outline of a
delicate lace bra under their shirts.    A sort
of private declaration of their situation during
their boring working days.
     'What-ever it takes', was my motto.   'Live
and let live.  Their money was good, it kept the
club profitable and that paid my wages.'
     During the day I kept a low profile and
busied myself with cleaning and general duties.
During the day, my outfit comprised loose brace
and bib overalls with an over-jacket and my hair
tied up under a work cap.    This removed all
possible provocation and nobody took any notice
of 'the cleaner'.     Jack liked it.      I
provided no competition to Jack as he cross-
dressed to the nines and ran the club very
efficiently.   The only time he changed to 'male-
drab' was when he went home.   As business
partners, we felt we had finally got there.
     Property taxes in the poorer part of town
were low and this made profits easier.      The
second cafe at street level began to draw in a
more conventional crowd during the day and the
neighbourhood was looking up. The club became
progressively more successful until it attracted
the attention of the mob and one day the boss
received the usual visit with protection
demands.
     The problem was that the club's openness
and legitimacy was the main reason for its
success.     Drag the club into the quagmire of
organised crime and the decent clientele would
soon go elsewhere.    Jack notified the police
of course, and there were several sympathetic
ears.   Some very senior members were secret
cross-dressers who were regular members at the
private part of the club.   Jack's medical
advice had helped many of them.    The city
police force was huge and about forty members
regularly used the club.       Additionally, the
gay cops naturally gravitated to this particular
precinct and were becoming very protective of
it.
     With the success of our club, other clubs
had sprung up around our club.    The area was
slowly turning into a 'gay village' with our
club at the epicentre.
     The police promised the boss support but
obviously they couldn't be around at all times.
They suggested he buy a large watchdog.
     By now the Jack and I were considering
expanding again.    The city planners were happy
with the first club and agreed to let him
develop a derelict site on the opposite corner
block.
     It was the old railway freight office and
warehouse and it actually had some historical
architectural merit.   With a sympathetic gay
architect as a partner, we three started
developing the site.   Soon a trendy chintzy
apartment block had added to the ambience of the
neighbourhood.      The mob were getting more
interested and it became something of a race to
get the neighbourhood decent before the mob took
over.   Fortunately, the police and city council
were on our side but it was not an easy ride.
     One Sunday as I lay taking it easy in my
apartment, there was a commotion outside.
Nervously I listened at the door to hear Jack
arguing on the stairs.   I was surprised to hear
his voice.
     He was not normally around on Sunday
afternoons because the club was closed and he
spent all day with his kids.             Whoever
was threatening Jack had obviously not bothered
to check that I was living in the other
apartment.        I quietly phoned the police
station and within seconds a patrol car wailed
up the street.        There was a scuffle and
then a single shot before footsteps thundered up
the stairs followed by a lot of shouting.
     Through the keyhole I watched several dark
blue uniforms arresting the assailant whilst
Jack lay crumpled against the wall.
     After the commotion was over and the gunman
disarmed, I came out and reported what I had
seen.    Fortunately Jack was not killed but it
was a dire warning.    The following week a huge
Alsatian dog called Billy appeared in the club.
Jack had taken the police advice and the dog had
the run of the club when it was closed.   Billy
also backed up the bouncers during the evenings
and he soon became a huge favourite with the
regular members.
     He was a massive specimen and superbly
trained. Normally he gave all the appearances of
being a big stupid friendly mutt, but when
ordered, he turned into something totally
different.    At first sight, I fell in love
with him.   His big intelligent eyes and alert
ears would have broken any dog lover's heart.
My feelings changed slightly though.
After seeing the darker side of his nature
during some unpleasantness at the door one
night, I became a little afraid of him.    It
obviously wasn't wise to cross Billy; he could
bite if called upon.
     However, because we both permanently lived
in the club I inevitably took responsibility for
feeding him.      Within a few weeks, Billy was
'my dog' and I gave him a huge comfortable
basket in my spare room.