Chapter 8

"You!!!" Eddie screamed through the bars, then laughed.

"Well done girls, quite a show, I really enjoyed that; and so did Michele obviously," he said snickering and pointing at the tent in the front of my skirt caused by the bulge of my slowly diminishing erection.

"Ok fun's over; now get the fuck out of here while Mabel cleans the joint up for tomorrow night, I expect you will be a lot busier tomorrow Michele, once the word gets around that my newest girl is available to all customers."

"I expect you'll be very busy indeed," Eddie's laughter faded as he disappeared down the corridor between the cells.

I cringed at the thought of another night in this caged prison brothel, forced to service some of the roughest men I had ever met. At the same time I was feeling confused as to how quickly I had acquired female mannerisms; how I had become aroused by wearing the lingerie, makeup, wigs, and heels that Eddie forced me to wear. I was also amazed at how, after only a brief introduction, I was developing the skills of the feminine art in applying makeup.

I was more disturbed however, by how I had responded to the sexual attentions of some of the punters and the ministrations of my crossdressed sisters. I could not deny that, despite the fact that during this torrid night I had been repeatedly orally and anally raped, I had experienced two of the most intense orgasms of my life this evening. I decided that I was just too dog-tired to think about it; I needed to sleep. I was even too tired to be angry with Charlotte and Carmel, who although they had obviously enjoyed the sexual encounter we had just experienced together, had obviously been put up to it by Eddie so that he could enjoy the 'all girl' show.

The two vixens in question, (who had just introduced me to my first transvestite lesbian experience), slunk out of my workroom cell. They both glanced back and blew me a kiss.

"Nightie-night sweetie," they giggled in chorus, the sound of their laughter and the clattering of their high heels diminishing as they moved on down the corridor.

Mabel came in and dumped my prison fatigues on the bed and pointed to the door with the words,

"Out! Shower. Get changed!"

I got the message and slipped out of my feminine attire and deposited it in the laundry bin in the corner of the cell. My heels and breast-forms went inside the large wardrobe. I removed my wig and put it on a vacant wig-stand then took the towel Mabel proffered, cinched it around my waist, and headed once again down the passageway between the cells carrying my fatigues to the shower block.

The overhead lights suddenly clattered on revealing the workroom cells on either side of the passageway. Through the open bars I stared at the oversized double beds, rumpled satin sheets, large armoires and dressers with makeup mirrors, totally incongruous in this disused prison wing. The workroom cells were like islands of perfumed femininity amid a sea of stink created by caged men.

Mabel poked her head out of my cell and barked orders to a couple of prisoners who I recognised as weaker individuals who had 'no muscle' and therefore had shitty jobs working in the prison laundry. They were stripping the beds and dumping sheets and pillowcases into large wheeled washing carts. They were also emptying the laundry bins from each cell into individual oversized prison laundry bags; I noticed the laundry bags were each labelled with the cell numbers and the feminine names of the 'working girl' that used each cell. As I passed one of the laundry hands I saw him bring a pair of soiled panties to his face and rub the bulge in the front of his denim jeans. I scurried past disgusted.

The laundry was a big money maker for the prison. It catered for the needs of the prisoners, the guards, and also took in work from nearby hotels and a hospital. Eddie controlled the prison laundry, as he did just about everything in Chelmsford prison. Obviously also had the laundry workers working overnight to wash and dry the bedclothes and clothing that belonged to his 'working girls'. To make his prison prostitution operation work he must also have the laundry dry cleaning service clean the 'girls' skirts, blouses, jackets and other items of clothing.

The cleaning of feminine clothing had to be being done overnight as I had made many trips to the prison laundry during the day whilst working as Eddies accountant and I had never seen any items of female attire in there. I knew Eddie made a considerable amount of money from the laundry; and of course, he was paying off someone high in the prison authority so that he could run the laundry business. As his accountant I knew he would also be charging the 'girls' for the laundry service; Eddie made money off everything, he gave nothing away.

When I got to the shower block I ran the water as hot as I could get it and soaked myself for half an hour in the shower trying to wash away the shame and humiliation of the last few hours. I scrubbed my face repeatedly to remove the caked on makeup. The blush, lipstick and eye shadow came off easily but I had to scrub at my face continually with the washcloth until it came away bearing no traces of foundation or mascara. I poured nail polish remover onto a cloth and cleaned the red nail polish from my fingernails.

I moved to the mirror and was glad to see that I looked like a man again; but then I noticed that some mascara was still clumped here and there on my eyelashes and little clots of eyeliner were smudged in the corners of my eyes. I picked up a bottle of moisturising cleanser from the shelf under the sink and removed the last traces of 'Michele' from my body.

I winced as I pulled on my denim prison uniform fatigues and felt the scratch of stiff cotton on my body instead of the luxurious feel of satin, silk and nylon. 'Stop it!' I told myself as I found myself wishing I could exchange the scratchy denim and cotton work-wear for the soft feel of feminine garments; 'this is how you are supposed to be dressed Mike; as a man!'

I made my way back to my accommodation cellblock without further incident. I was amazed to find my cell unlocked and unguarded. Fucking Eddie ran the whole prison I was sure if it! I let myself into the relative privacy of my own cell. With only a peephole in the door for the guard to look through instead of the open bars of the workroom cells in E Block it was as private as one could get in prison. As my head hit the pillow my mind was spinning with what had happened to me, how drastically my life had changed in one day. The last thing I noticed through teary eyes before I fell into a deep sleep was the clock on the wall ticking over to 2:30am.

I awoke the next morning and looked straight at the clock; it was 9:30am. Eddie must have arranged it with the guard on my wing to let me sleep in. I was tired and sore from the events of the previous evening and the early hours of this morning, I just couldn't believe what had happened to me. I seemed normal enough (or as normal as one could be when you are a guest in Chelmsford prison); just Mike. Mike brushing his teeth, Mike combing his hair, Mike changing into clean fatigues. Mike drinking coffee alone in the deserted cafeteria. There was no sign of Michele or her feminine ways; Christ I wished it were all just a bad dream!

I looked down at my hands holding the coffee cup and noticed that there were little crescents of red nail polish under the cuticles of some of my fingernails. "Fuck!!!" I exclaimed. Then I heard the voice I feared most; Eddie had snuck up on me and whispered in my ear,

"Come on Secretary you've got a lot of work to do. Just because I've found you some after-hours employment, doesn't mean you can neglect your day job," he snickered.

I followed him and took up my usual post working on Eddie's books as I had done every day for the last few months. I couldn't bear to bring up with him the events of last night or even look him in the eye. What I did do though was to pay particular attention to those parts of Eddie's business that had now come to directly effect me. Because Mabel ran the books relating to the prostitution ring, I had never really paid them too much attention before, except to check the bottom line for profit against loss; today I paid them special attention.

A note for those of you who haven't read Part I of this story; you probably need to read it now to understand how Eddie's prison business works and how Mike/Michele ended up becoming Eddie's accountant and 'secretary'.

It was all there, the amount each punter paid Mabel for a 'session' with each 'girl' (there were various codes that I didn't really understand but as some sessions cost more than others, I could only deduce those punters wanted 'special services' and paid accordingly). Here was listed the earnings made by each of Eddie's transvestite hookers against the costs involved in running his secret prison brothel. Payments were listed to Mabel, the guards (although a lot of the guards seemed to take their payment in 'trade'), and the inmate 'minders' Eddie employed (I shuddered as I though about how 'Iron-bar Steve', his most vicious minder, had used me).

The costs of female attire, lingerie, cosmetics, perfumes, wigs, shoes and other accessories were carefully recorded against each girl's name and deducted from her earnings. It appeared that despite these costs, and even after Eddie had taken the larger part of the profit for himself, the girls still made a substantial amount of money. By prison terms they were rich; in fact they probably made more money than your average streetwalker did on the outside.

Then I looked up the ledger entries Mabel had made against me, 'Michele'; I was astounded at how much money Eddie had made from me last night, even though only a couple of my 'tricks' were paying customers. Then I looked in the debit column at how much money I owed Eddie; I was flabbergasted. I owed him thousands of dollars for the clothing and accessories he had purchased for me!

"What the fuck Eddie?" I turned around and shook the ledger book at him.

"This is bullshit! I'm a rich man outside but it will cost me double the money I owe you in bribes to have that much smuggled in!"

"I suppose I have no fucking choice, It would take me weeks to pay this off earning the money you expect me to make in your filthy whorehouse!"

I couldn't believe that in my outrage I was shouting at Eddie like this.

"Oh no Secretary bird; months at least; probably a year to clear that debt!" he laughed.

"What the fuck?" I stammered.

Eddie reached out and grabbed my slender throat,

"You can only pay for the goods and services I provide for you with the services you provide to me!"

"What the fuck does that mean?" I asked. "Why can't I just pay you out from money I have on the outside?"

"All of your clothes, makeup, wigs, nylons and those nice frilly things I have you wear, you have to pay for out of the money you make in the workroom. That's the deal. How do you think I keep my little harem working for me?" he responded.

"And of course you will always need more of those lovely things, because, as you can imagine, they tend to get worn out quickly and suffer more than their fair share of wear and tear during the working day; or should I say working evening," he laughed.

"And I can't have my punters complaining that my girls dress like shit now can I?" he mocked.

"Besides; look on the bright side, you get to keep everything you pay for and I'll let you keep any tips; pardon the pun," he laughed.

"In a few weeks, once you get to like the work, you will be asking for more and more clothing, lingerie, and girly luxuries, all my girls do," he finished.

"Girls?" I stammered.

"Girls! Girls! Fucking GIRLS!!!!!"

"They're crossdressers you dolt! They're men! Men! MEN!!!"

"And so the fuck am I! I'm a fucking MAN not a GIRL!!!!!"

Whack! Everything went black.

I woke up on my bunk in my cell my head throbbing.

"Christ!" I groaned.

Eddie had obviously belted me during my outburst and knocked me out. I raised myself off my bunk and looked in the mirror. No visible damage done; just a bump on the back of my head. Eddie was too smart to mark his latest money-spinner.

I noticed my cell door was closed and on further inspection locked. Then I noticed a suit-bag hanging on the end of the double-bunk. On the disused top-bunk was a pair of black high-heeled open toe sandals, a makeup case, a pair of expensive Italian pantyhose still in their wrapping and some boxes that when opened contained white satin lingerie. A wig composed of a shiny black bob, with discrete cerise highlights was perched on a wig-stand. I recognised it as one of the wigs Carmel had had me wear last night. The wig had been cleaned, combed and styled; the harsh prison light bulb picked up the highlights in the hair.

I walked over to the suit-bag and noticed a note pinned to it. It read:

'Get dressed. Be ready by 1pm and make sure you look good for a special friend of mine. Steve will pick you up.

Or don't get dressed, your choice!

If you're not dressed when Steve gets there you won't need to get dressed in anything but hospital pyjamas for at least a month!

Love Eddie

XXX'

Resignation came crashing down on me yet again; I would not be able to get out of Eddie's clutches until I was released from Chelmsford ... or ... a glimmer of hope formed in my mind ... transferred!!! That was it! I would get a transfer! I had plenty of money outside; sure it cost me double every time I tried to get any of my money smuggled in, but if Eddie could bribe the guards, surely I could too! All I needed to do was to find out the right person to bribe. I made a resolution right there and then. I would withstand whatever depravity I had to until I could arrange a transfer to another prison. With this resolve firmly in my mind I started to get dressed into the clothing that had been bought into my cell whilst I was unconscious (probably delivered by Mabel in her male alter ego: the washed up trustee lifer).

I shucked out of my prison fatigues and stood naked in the centre of my cell. Short, slim and well proportioned with all of my body hair removed my body did not look especially feminine; but it was more womanly compared to most of the inmates in here who were either bodybuilders or had resigned themselves to lives of flabby inactivity. Maybe I could fatten myself up so that I wouldn't be attractive to men? Then I remembered Charlotte, the chubby whore from last night, being fat had not worked for her, it had just made her more attractive to men who liked larger women (BBW's as they were referred to in men's magazines).

I opened the large makeup case and investigated the contents. It contained plenty of makeup, a small bottle of perfume and some jewellery in the upper compartment tray. I removed the upper tray to discover that in the bottom compartment was a pair of breastforms. The two silicone tits looked forlornly up at me from the bottom of the case. Breastforms! This time yesterday I wouldn't have had a clue that the fucking things even existed. I selected the ruby red nail polish out of the makeup case and sat down on my bunk and painted my toe and fingernails contemplating the future. Eddie obviously had a special trick lined up for me this afternoon; what he didn't know was the trick I was going to play on him; if I could just find out who I needed to bribe to get out of this nightmare.

I laid out the makeup on the shelf in front of the mirror over the sink and started the transformation from Mike to Michele.

I applied a layer of heavy foundation from my hairline all the way down to the bottom of my neck. Next I applied a second layer of Revlon foundation that matched my natural skin tone and then set the foundation with a lighter shade of face powder. I rouged my cheeks to highlight my sharp cheekbones, applied another light dusting of powder, and then went to work on my eyes.

My eyebrows were thin anyway and just required a light touch of pencil to form the arches. I applied a pinkish hued eye shadow to my eyelids and then blended a light aqua from there to just under my eyebrows. With a fine brush I applied black eyeliner in a thin line on my eyelids as close to my eyelashes as possible, top and bottom. I took the line right into the corners of my eyes as I had been taught. I applied lashings of black mascara to my eyelashes, only having to clean up a few little flecks that dropped onto my face. Next, three coats of the same plum coloured lipstick that I had worn last night, carefully applied inside the matching lip-liner. I pulled the black bob onto my head and adjusted the wig so that it sat correctly. I clipped a pair of silver and diamond encrusted sapphire drops to my ears and a matching pendant around my neck to finish the effect. I looked gorgeous; Carmel would have been proud of my efforts I thought to myself.

Now, to the foundation garments! I unwrapped the expensive looking Italian pantyhose. The diaphanous sheer black nylons were fully fashioned with dark reinforced cuban heels and toes; a neat black seam ran up the back of the legs to the top of the waistband. The gusset was as sheer as the rest of the hose with no joining seams or cotton insert that is usually found in the crotch area of most pantyhose. The nylons were decorated with tiny little rhinestones just above the heels.

I sat on the edge of the bottom bunk and slipped on the sensuous hose being careful not to snag them. My legs looked stunning, the little rhinestones made the pattern on the outside of each of my calves, the cuban heels tapered into the back-seam. I adjusted the seams to run perfectly centred up the backs of my legs. As I smoothed the hose little sparks of delight flew up my legs and I felt myself begin to stiffen. Before I could become further aroused I pushed my penis between my legs and held it there with the tight nylon gusset. These hose must be really expensive I mused.

Next I slid the white satin panties up my legs sending more little darts of pleasure into my body as they rubbed on the nylons. I stood and pulled the panties into place around my bottom and crotch. They were pure white, sleek and discretely laced around the waistband and leg openings. The full cut white panties stood out dramatically against the black nylon pantyhose; the seat of the full-cut panties encased the globes of my buttocks perfectly and the front panel was tight against my crotch with just my little package spoiling the effect.

I removed the breastforms from the makeup case and stood before the mirror and put them in place. I had applied a liberal amount of artist's gum to my chest and the back of the breastforms as directed by the label on the tube I had found in the case. The directions on the gum promised to hold them in place 'for hours on end'; they certainly felt secure. I just hoped the fucking things weren't glued there permanently.

I put on the white satin bra next. Still a novice, this proved to be the hardest garment to get into. In the end I clipped the catches at the back of the bra together and pulled it on like you would a T-shirt, arms in first then pulled the back strap over my head. I wrestled the garment into position and smoothed out the sleek satin cups over my false breasts and untangled the straps over my shoulders and around my back. It was a lovely fit, perfectly matching the satin panties with a lace trim along the top of the breastcups with a single pale pink satin rose nestled between them.

The last item of lingerie in the packages was a full slip of the sheerest translucent white nylon. I slipped the item over my head and pulled it down so that the bodice fit snugly against my torso; the slip flared at the waist and finished mid thigh. The hem was trimmed with lace matching my bra and panties. The gossamer thin garment felt luxurious and when the material stroked against my nyloned thighs little explosions of pleasure ran up my legs.

I stepped into the patent leather black high-heeled sandals, my painted toenails visible through the reinforced toes of my stockings, the pretty cuban heels accented by the ankle straps of the shoes. I bent down and fastened a silver anklet around my left ankle; the chain sparkling as the light reflected off it accentuating the miniature rhinestones on my sleek hosed calves.

I stood up and unzipped the suit-bag. Inside was a navy blue suit and sheer white nylon blouse. I slipped into the blouse, the cool feel of the nylon sleeves sliding up my arms, the light material whispering against the full slip as I buttoned the garment. I stepped into the skirt; it was snug at the waist and tight around my hips and bottom, the hem coming to just above my knees. I pulled on the wide lapelled jacket and my transformation was complete.

I looked in the mirror stepping back so I could see as much of my reflection as possible. I was no longer Mike, the weak willed accountant; I was Michele, a power dressed executive; a 'fem fatale' in a business suit. I sprayed liberal amounts of perfume on my neck, behind my ears and then as Carmel had showed me, under my skirt.

I was about to sit down when my cell door slammed open. 'Iron Bar' Steve stood there in the company of one of the guards.

"Oh fuck me Steve she's fucking gorgeous; I'd love to shag her bent over the bunk dressed just like that!" the dimwitted guard exclaimed.

"Fuck off stupid, you couldn't afford a fucking hand job off her, she's out of your league," Steve responded.

'How chivalrous, ' I thought to myself, 'A brain-dead thug defending the honour of a crossdressed inmate prostitute to a corrupt prison guard!' I couldn't help but smile at the irony of the situation.

"Oh you won't be smiling for long honey," laughed Steve, "Eddie's special friend doesn't like jokes from fag inmates one little bit."

"Who are you calling a fag Stevie? You couldn't get enough of me last night could you?" I clipped sarcastically.

Steve raised his hand but I stood defiantly in the doorway of the cell. I knew that Steve dare not touch me at the moment as I was all prettied up for some special punter. It was good to actually feel a slight empowerment for once. I sashayed though the cell door deliberately taunting Steve but I paid the price as I passed him; he reached out and squeezed my pantied buttocks through my skirt.

"Don't touch the merchandise Steve," I taunted again, turning my pretty face to his and pouting at him.

"Oh don't worry Michele, I'm just here to escort you to your special date, but you will be well used merchandise when you return," he laughed.