Faking it
Rakky writes, "We've all done it. From qualifications to orgasms, everyone likes to play 'let's pretend' once in a while."
So when have you faked it? Did you get away with it? Or were your mendacious ways exposed?
( , Thu 10 Jul 2008, 15:16)
Rakky writes, "We've all done it. From qualifications to orgasms, everyone likes to play 'let's pretend' once in a while."
So when have you faked it? Did you get away with it? Or were your mendacious ways exposed?
( , Thu 10 Jul 2008, 15:16)
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You don’t know how lucky you all are…
This is something I’m not particularly proud of…
Years ago when I was young and desperate after college I applied for a job at a large telecommunications company.
I passed the interview with flying colours – they liked me, I liked them. I had the perfect combination of skills and experience. I even had things in common with the interviewers and we ‘clicked’ like friends. It was perfect. I was never so sure of anything of my life.
I was deliriously and ambitiously looking forward to the career (and rewards) I had always dreamed of...so you can imagine how crushed I was when I was called and informed that unfortunately I could not be employed due to their ‘equal opportunities policy’.
Their HR manager apologetically simpered but I was inconsolable. However, between his snivelling, condescending whimpers I heard the following words:
“If only you were a woman, we would have hired you on the spot.”
There was suddenly a metaphorical lightbulb above my head. Like I said, I was desperate. Totally desperate. I know what you’re thinking but please understand how much I needed this job. So I bit my lip as I considered the impossible…This couldn’t be something I could enter into lightly…but my entire future happiness was at stake…
Now, I’m not a homophobe or anything, I embrace all persuasions, but I had never so much as even drunkenly dabbled with transvestism. I couldn’t understand the point and it did not appeal to me one iota. But then as I weighed up my options and my dream job it began to seem more and more like a viable prospect.
Besides, my friends had always told me I looked slightly effeminate. The thing was…did I have the guts?...could I pull it off?
I decided straight away that if I was going to do this, that I would tell my immediate family and friends before hand, so I could get their advice (and all the piss-taking) out of the way straight off.
To my astonishment they were very supportive…they knew what it meant to me. Even my dad said that ‘as long as I was happy, the King family would be proud of me’. I admit I shed a tear.
Some of my girlfriends even loaned me some clothes / underwear / make up etc and most importantly, tips on how to look.
There was no turning back now.
The first time I tried women’s clothing was a simple flower print summer dress. It was still an uncomfortable experience I can tell you; what with the ‘last turkey in the shop’ swinging about in the breeze underneath (I didn’t want any visible panty lines).
Walking round my bedroom, the shoes were a killer, and as for rolling on the stockings in as manly a way as possible…it’s not fucking easy mate, they snag on everything!
Although painstakingly slow and deliberate, I was soon a dab-hand at applying my makeup and nail polish etc…or so I thought. Thinking back, maybe I was a little bit on the ‘slutty’ side.
The time came that I had to approach the mirror to see the results of my handiwork…
Catching that first glimpse of myself was something I will never forget. My jaw gaped as I clapped eyes on this strange ‘woman’ standing before me. However, I was convinced that I looked ok….quite nice in fact…Yet still the big question remained…was I passable in public? I didn’t want to look like Anne Widdecombe doing an Edna Everage impression did I?. So I had to put my ‘new look’ to the test.
The next logical step was to try my first ‘public appearance’. I called a mate and offered him a tenner to walk through the town centre with me and hold my hand. He accepted and we bravely ventured out into the street with me kitted out in full drag.
As far as we could tell, not a single head turned. For all the world, we were just a normal couple. Even my mate said he felt comfortable. The preliminary experiment was a resounding success! Time for stage 2!
Now all I needed was a name.
Seeing as I’ve already opened up to you fellow B3tards. I may as well tell you that my real name is Raymond. For my female pseudonym I wanted to go with something that sounded similar so I could remember it. Obviously, something like ‘Ray-netta’ would’ve been outright twattish, so I decided to go with ‘Faye’.
With my heart in my throat and putting on a high-pitched attempt at a smouldering voice, I phoned the company, explaining that I was my own twin sister and asked for an interview. They accepted.
There was properly no turning back now.
The big day arrived. Shaking with fear as I wiggled on my high heels into the interview room, I immediately recognised my surroundings and interviewers from my previous attempt. But would they suss me?
The answer was a resounding ‘no’. They were fooled by my story completely and other than an odd gleam in Paul, the HR manager’s eye, they never gave me a second glance. Once again, the interview went absolutely swimmingly and I could feel my confidence building. Paul even patted me on the arse on my way out. Saucy cunt!
I got the job. I was to start a week Monday.
On my first day I wore a neat little A-line skirt and white blouse; using my old rugby socks to pad out my bra. Perhaps now with hindsight I think I may have overdone it a bit as I was soon attracting the attention of Geoff, the local area manager.
To him I was the perfect woman…stacked up top and nice legs, but with knowledge of the offside rule and a hankering for Top Gear and real ale. He pursued me relentlessly.
I kept catching him staring at my ‘breasts’. His attempts at chat up lines were crude and repulsive. If he wasn’t my boss I would’ve told him to sling his fat hook straight away. But I had my new career to consider…so I fluttered my eyelashes, giggled flirtatiously and it was in the polite affirmative that I answered his request for a dinner date.
So that night, tarted up to the nines and smelling like a prossie’s boudoir, I let Geoff escort me to the local Beefeater whereby he proceeded to ply me with gallons of white wine. I must admit it was nice for an old chauvinist like me to have someone else pick up the tab for a change.
After more light flirtations, we took a taxi and went back to his place. As we pulled up outside he asked me if I would like to ‘come in for a coffee’. I had to think fast…
He was local area manager…This could be my first step up the corporate ladder…How far was I prepared to go?...
…
Well, I must say, taking him into my mouth was a bizarre sensation (at first), but I soon found that I could just ‘think about something else’, as I suspect many women do. Before long he was fully aroused, grunting and splurting in fake romantic tones that he wanted to ‘take me’.
This was starting to get a bit out of hand...but I didn't want to give the game away.
Again, thinking fast, I jumped to an improvisational career decision…and whispered to him that I like it ‘up the wrong’un’.
You know what? He couldn’t believe his luck! Before I could even wipe my chin I was bent over the dining room table and he was going at it like a pneumatic drill.
I had to sneakily clutch my clock-weights; and to disguise this fact I wiggled my finger to give Geoff the impression that I was playing with my biffin’s bridge. He didn’t seem to notice as he enthusiastically pumped away at my puckering poo-chute.
An unsatisfyingly short time later, he spurted his cock custard over my back crack, and I suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of power and achievement…
And I’m afraid to say it went to my head.
As soon as he had finished I just walked straight out, saying nothing.
The next time we met I treated him like shit. Completely blanked him
I never called him or answered his texts. I disrespected him. He wasn’t happy and he started to spread rumours about my being a ‘slapper’.
So I decided to get him back. I slept with his best mate…and his boss...and his dad.
Inevitably, the rumours increased and got worse. Before long I couldn’t stand the gossip any more and had to leave. I had ruined everything that I had worked so hard to build.
I hear they still talk about me there…
But what do they call me?...‘Whore?’...no...'Slag?’…No.
I am simply known as…
Faye King…Git
( , Fri 11 Jul 2008, 12:34, 20 replies)
This is something I’m not particularly proud of…
Years ago when I was young and desperate after college I applied for a job at a large telecommunications company.
I passed the interview with flying colours – they liked me, I liked them. I had the perfect combination of skills and experience. I even had things in common with the interviewers and we ‘clicked’ like friends. It was perfect. I was never so sure of anything of my life.
I was deliriously and ambitiously looking forward to the career (and rewards) I had always dreamed of...so you can imagine how crushed I was when I was called and informed that unfortunately I could not be employed due to their ‘equal opportunities policy’.
Their HR manager apologetically simpered but I was inconsolable. However, between his snivelling, condescending whimpers I heard the following words:
“If only you were a woman, we would have hired you on the spot.”
There was suddenly a metaphorical lightbulb above my head. Like I said, I was desperate. Totally desperate. I know what you’re thinking but please understand how much I needed this job. So I bit my lip as I considered the impossible…This couldn’t be something I could enter into lightly…but my entire future happiness was at stake…
Now, I’m not a homophobe or anything, I embrace all persuasions, but I had never so much as even drunkenly dabbled with transvestism. I couldn’t understand the point and it did not appeal to me one iota. But then as I weighed up my options and my dream job it began to seem more and more like a viable prospect.
Besides, my friends had always told me I looked slightly effeminate. The thing was…did I have the guts?...could I pull it off?
I decided straight away that if I was going to do this, that I would tell my immediate family and friends before hand, so I could get their advice (and all the piss-taking) out of the way straight off.
To my astonishment they were very supportive…they knew what it meant to me. Even my dad said that ‘as long as I was happy, the King family would be proud of me’. I admit I shed a tear.
Some of my girlfriends even loaned me some clothes / underwear / make up etc and most importantly, tips on how to look.
There was no turning back now.
The first time I tried women’s clothing was a simple flower print summer dress. It was still an uncomfortable experience I can tell you; what with the ‘last turkey in the shop’ swinging about in the breeze underneath (I didn’t want any visible panty lines).
Walking round my bedroom, the shoes were a killer, and as for rolling on the stockings in as manly a way as possible…it’s not fucking easy mate, they snag on everything!
Although painstakingly slow and deliberate, I was soon a dab-hand at applying my makeup and nail polish etc…or so I thought. Thinking back, maybe I was a little bit on the ‘slutty’ side.
The time came that I had to approach the mirror to see the results of my handiwork…
Catching that first glimpse of myself was something I will never forget. My jaw gaped as I clapped eyes on this strange ‘woman’ standing before me. However, I was convinced that I looked ok….quite nice in fact…Yet still the big question remained…was I passable in public? I didn’t want to look like Anne Widdecombe doing an Edna Everage impression did I?. So I had to put my ‘new look’ to the test.
The next logical step was to try my first ‘public appearance’. I called a mate and offered him a tenner to walk through the town centre with me and hold my hand. He accepted and we bravely ventured out into the street with me kitted out in full drag.
As far as we could tell, not a single head turned. For all the world, we were just a normal couple. Even my mate said he felt comfortable. The preliminary experiment was a resounding success! Time for stage 2!
Now all I needed was a name.
Seeing as I’ve already opened up to you fellow B3tards. I may as well tell you that my real name is Raymond. For my female pseudonym I wanted to go with something that sounded similar so I could remember it. Obviously, something like ‘Ray-netta’ would’ve been outright twattish, so I decided to go with ‘Faye’.
With my heart in my throat and putting on a high-pitched attempt at a smouldering voice, I phoned the company, explaining that I was my own twin sister and asked for an interview. They accepted.
There was properly no turning back now.
The big day arrived. Shaking with fear as I wiggled on my high heels into the interview room, I immediately recognised my surroundings and interviewers from my previous attempt. But would they suss me?
The answer was a resounding ‘no’. They were fooled by my story completely and other than an odd gleam in Paul, the HR manager’s eye, they never gave me a second glance. Once again, the interview went absolutely swimmingly and I could feel my confidence building. Paul even patted me on the arse on my way out. Saucy cunt!
I got the job. I was to start a week Monday.
On my first day I wore a neat little A-line skirt and white blouse; using my old rugby socks to pad out my bra. Perhaps now with hindsight I think I may have overdone it a bit as I was soon attracting the attention of Geoff, the local area manager.
To him I was the perfect woman…stacked up top and nice legs, but with knowledge of the offside rule and a hankering for Top Gear and real ale. He pursued me relentlessly.
I kept catching him staring at my ‘breasts’. His attempts at chat up lines were crude and repulsive. If he wasn’t my boss I would’ve told him to sling his fat hook straight away. But I had my new career to consider…so I fluttered my eyelashes, giggled flirtatiously and it was in the polite affirmative that I answered his request for a dinner date.
So that night, tarted up to the nines and smelling like a prossie’s boudoir, I let Geoff escort me to the local Beefeater whereby he proceeded to ply me with gallons of white wine. I must admit it was nice for an old chauvinist like me to have someone else pick up the tab for a change.
After more light flirtations, we took a taxi and went back to his place. As we pulled up outside he asked me if I would like to ‘come in for a coffee’. I had to think fast…
He was local area manager…This could be my first step up the corporate ladder…How far was I prepared to go?...
…
Well, I must say, taking him into my mouth was a bizarre sensation (at first), but I soon found that I could just ‘think about something else’, as I suspect many women do. Before long he was fully aroused, grunting and splurting in fake romantic tones that he wanted to ‘take me’.
This was starting to get a bit out of hand...but I didn't want to give the game away.
Again, thinking fast, I jumped to an improvisational career decision…and whispered to him that I like it ‘up the wrong’un’.
You know what? He couldn’t believe his luck! Before I could even wipe my chin I was bent over the dining room table and he was going at it like a pneumatic drill.
I had to sneakily clutch my clock-weights; and to disguise this fact I wiggled my finger to give Geoff the impression that I was playing with my biffin’s bridge. He didn’t seem to notice as he enthusiastically pumped away at my puckering poo-chute.
An unsatisfyingly short time later, he spurted his cock custard over my back crack, and I suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of power and achievement…
And I’m afraid to say it went to my head.
As soon as he had finished I just walked straight out, saying nothing.
The next time we met I treated him like shit. Completely blanked him
I never called him or answered his texts. I disrespected him. He wasn’t happy and he started to spread rumours about my being a ‘slapper’.
So I decided to get him back. I slept with his best mate…and his boss...and his dad.
Inevitably, the rumours increased and got worse. Before long I couldn’t stand the gossip any more and had to leave. I had ruined everything that I had worked so hard to build.
I hear they still talk about me there…
But what do they call me?...‘Whore?’...no...'Slag?’…No.
I am simply known as…
Faye King…Git
( , Fri 11 Jul 2008, 12:34, 20 replies)
Fuck me
that is an epic. I'll have to go back and read it now.
edit - And *spang* but in a great way.
( , Fri 11 Jul 2008, 12:35, closed)
that is an epic. I'll have to go back and read it now.
edit - And *spang* but in a great way.
( , Fri 11 Jul 2008, 12:35, closed)
lol!
I blame the crazy strong antihisamines for not noticing the giveaways sooner, but that was a quality read! *click*
( , Fri 11 Jul 2008, 12:47, closed)
I blame the crazy strong antihisamines for not noticing the giveaways sooner, but that was a quality read! *click*
( , Fri 11 Jul 2008, 12:47, closed)
Ya loon- it's only Friday!
The puns don't start until next week.
*SPANG!
Well played, though...
( , Fri 11 Jul 2008, 12:56, closed)
The puns don't start until next week.
*SPANG!
Well played, though...
( , Fri 11 Jul 2008, 12:56, closed)
@TRL...
I'm sorry, I had the full intention of finishing the post with something like:
"And the thing I was faking is that I didn't really want the job in the first place"
But the power of punnage overwhelmed me!
( , Fri 11 Jul 2008, 13:01, closed)
I'm sorry, I had the full intention of finishing the post with something like:
"And the thing I was faking is that I didn't really want the job in the first place"
But the power of punnage overwhelmed me!
( , Fri 11 Jul 2008, 13:01, closed)
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
*stops for air*
BWA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
*continues to laugh.. with no sound coming out*
( , Fri 11 Jul 2008, 13:32, closed)
*stops for air*
BWA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
*continues to laugh.. with no sound coming out*
( , Fri 11 Jul 2008, 13:32, closed)
Your talent is wasted on this website.
Take it somewhere else.
Please.
(Only joking) *smooch*
( , Fri 11 Jul 2008, 13:58, closed)
Take it somewhere else.
Please.
(Only joking) *smooch*
( , Fri 11 Jul 2008, 13:58, closed)
Christ
I actually believed it till halfway through and I thought "Eh? Wtf!" and scrolled down to see who wrote it :P
( , Fri 11 Jul 2008, 14:36, closed)
I actually believed it till halfway through and I thought "Eh? Wtf!" and scrolled down to see who wrote it :P
( , Fri 11 Jul 2008, 14:36, closed)
A long one but worth it
Could I suggest instead of Ray you should be called Joe instead?
( , Fri 11 Jul 2008, 14:53, closed)
Could I suggest instead of Ray you should be called Joe instead?
( , Fri 11 Jul 2008, 14:53, closed)
you sir...
... are a genious. admittedly ten minutes of my life I'll never get back... !
( , Fri 11 Jul 2008, 15:44, closed)
... are a genious. admittedly ten minutes of my life I'll never get back... !
( , Fri 11 Jul 2008, 15:44, closed)
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