Herbert The Turbot (Part Two)

© 2013 David Jasmin-Green

After a while Herbert clicked on someone called Elise, who's blog stated that s/he was interested in both men and women. It was difficult to tell from the picture if Elise was a man or woman because the jammy bastard looked young and slim and feminine and deliciously attractive – s/he had the sort of looks that the majority of cross-dressers would die for. “You'll do, sweetheart,” Herbert said. “Ooh, hello, gorgeous,” he said as Elise's web-cam revealed the most delightful creature he had ever seen, a picture of loveliness with long, jet black hair, luscious red lips and huge blue eyes. “I hope you don't mind me talking to you.”

“Not at all, Bootiful Gal,” Elise replied in a deep but very appealing voice. “We haven't spoken before have we?”

“No, I'm sure of it. If I'd seen you before I'd remember, you have the face of an angel.”

“Thank you, m'dear, flattery will get you everywhere. And for the record you don't look too bad yourself – I love big girls, they send me all a tremble. Most of the folk on this site are Americans - it's nice to speak to an English rose for a change, and a West Midlander at that, judging by your accent. I live in Birmingham, what about you?”

“Erm, I'm in Birmingham too. Aston, as a matter of fact.”

What an incredible coincidence! I live by the chip shop on Bannister Road, how about you?”

“Shit, I live in Beasley Avenue, it's literally around the corner.”

“Delightful! Are you alone, Bootiful Gal?”

“Yes,” Herbert said after a long pause, the dread of discovery tying his stomach in knots. “Yes, I am. Only until nineish, though - my, erm, wife will be back by then.”

“I can be there in five minutes flat, darling, if not less, and I promise to leave well before nine – that'll give us almost three blissful hours to get to know each other..... What number's your house?”

“Seventy three,” Herbert couldn't stop himself from saying.

“Beautiful, I'll see you in a mo.”

“Fuck, what have I done?” he asked himself as he logged off and wobbled clumsily upstairs to apply a squirt of Channel Number Five to his moobs.

*************************

“Hellooo!” Elise said unreasonably enthusiastically as Herbert opened the door a crack.

“Shhh!” he said. “Come in, quick, I don't want anyone to see me like this.”

“Darling, I spent years being a clossie, and I'm so much happier now I've come out. I know it must be difficult for you when you're in a relationship with someone who doesn't understand your needs, but you have to work something out, or you'll be miserable for the rest of your life.”

“Come into the back room, Elise. Do you want a drink? We only have tea and coffee and some cheap lager, I'm afraid.”

“Nothing for me, sweetie. Sit down, let's talk.”

There was something funny about Elise, Herbert decided almost straight away. He was sitting with his arms tightly folded and his hands tucked under his armpits as if he had something to hide. His voice sounded funny, it sounded - well, it sounded almost mechanical, a bit like an old, crackly tape recording, nothing like the soft, dulcet tones he had heard online, and he didn't look much like the delightful feminine creature that he had spoken to either.

It was the same person, that was indisputable even though he was wearing huge sunglasses, but somehow he looked different..... Herbert began to wonder if there was software capable of ironing out flaws during a live video feed just as pictures were airbrushed and film was digitally altered. The Elise that he had admired online was perhaps twenty five or thirty years old with beautiful hair and flawless skin, but this Elise was wearing a scruffy nylon wig and he had a waxy looking pallor that made Herbert suspect that he was wearing a thick layer of foundation to disguise his atrocious complexion.

“Can we go upstairs, lover?”

“Blimey,” Herbert replied. “You don't waste much time, do you?”

“We don't have much time at our disposal, remember?”

“What about taking your sunglasses off first so I can have a proper look at you?”

“My eyes aren't a pretty sight at the moment, I'm afraid. I suffer from conjunctivitis, they're a bit runny and swollen and I'm not happy about taking my glasses off until we're somewhere with more subdued light. Do you like men with titties, Bootiful Gal? Mine are divine, and I should think so, because they cost a bloody fortune. And I hope you like chicks with dicks, because I never had the guts or the will to go the whole way.”

“I, erm, I'm not sure what I like, Elise. I've never gone as far as meeting anyone I've spoken to online before, you see. I've been secretly dressing like this for about five years, but you're the first living soul ever to see the results of my efforts. I'm not sure if it's just dressing as a woman or seeing other men dressed as women that turns me on. Fuck, I must sound terribly confused; I'm forty five years old, surely I should know what I want by now. I know what I don't want, and that's Ruby, my missus. I loved her very much indeed for the first four or five years of our marriage, but that love just sort of fizzled out..... God, I'm such a bastard.”

“Don't cry, love,” Elise said, moving from the armchair to the sofa beside Herbert. “C'm'ere, let me give you a hug. On second thoughts go ahead and cry – let all your troubles pour out on Elise's capable shoulders.”

Elise smelled of something that Herbert couldn't identify, a mixture of musk and pine needles and a hint of of sandalwood - whatever it was it gave him a throbbing hard-on. All of a sudden he couldn't care less if Elise wasn't as pretty as he had first thought or his skin wasn't quite perfect, he just had to have him. Or her. Whatever, he didn't give a fuck.

Before he realised what he was doing his hands were on Elise's tits, which felt incredibly soft, and his tongue was halfway down the man's throat as he began to climb on top of him. “No no, honey, I'll get on top,” Elise whispered. “I'm too delicate to bear the weight of a big man-girl like you.”

Elise pushed Herbert back onto the sofa, straddled him and explored southwards with one ice-cold hand as he violently kissed him. Herbert was overcome with excitement until a thick, oily liquid gushed into his mouth from Elise's mouth, a liquid that smelled vaguely like the oil of cloves that his mother used to use to soothe toothache, a liquid far too hot to have come from a living body. He was about to spit it out, whatever it was, but the sharp blow in the belly that Elise delivered forced him to breathe in and swallow hard. Elise clambered off Herbert as he erupted in a coughing fit, and whatever it was that he had ingested he felt as if he had downed a bottle of whisky in one go. His legs turned to jelly and his head was spinning, he struggled to clamber to his feet but he couldn't manage it, though curiously his thoughts were crystal clear and his speech was unaffected.

“What..... What the hell was that, you bastard?” Herbert grunted, noticing Elise's hands, which were incredibly long and thin and jointed in all the wrong places.

“You don't know?” Elise said, ripping off his wig to reveal his oversized, hairless grey-green skull and taking off his sunglasses to expose his huge, unblinking fish eyes. “You can't guess? I've drugged you, you silly man/woman, and now you're going to answer all of my questions, every last one. Two and a half hours, I say we have until your not so dear wife comes home, the poor cow – that's plenty of time for an in-depth interview, don't you think?”

*************************

Some time later Herbert woke from a deep, dreamless sleep. Someone was poking him. No, they were kicking him hard in the ribs, and for some reason he was lying on the floor in the back room. “Get up, you dirty fat fucker!” Ruby yelled. “What the hell do you think you're playing at? Have you any idea what you look like? You've been drinking, I can see it in your eyes, you're completely rat-arsed. Let me tell you something, Herbie. I don't know what you've been up to, and I can't say I care. I've taken a couple of dozen really embarrassing photos of you, and before long they'll be all over Facebook and wherever else I can think of posting them. Oh, and I want you out of this house in a fortnight at the very most, preferably sooner - I'll be filing for divorce as soon as I can make an appointment to see my solicitor, you frigging pervert.”

“What..... What happened?” Herbert said, and he genuinely had no idea – the last thing he remembered was putting his glad-rags on and logging into Femtastic.