To the Strip Club, visit your BFF

You enter the strip club – it strangely doesn't feel weird at all any more, doing it as a woman. Spending all night here yesterday as a woman gave you an insight into this joint that makes you feel secure like you never did before. You see all these pathetic men sitting here and feel nothing but disgust for them. Not even pity, they're too far below you for that. And the fact that you used to be one of them less than a week ago doesn't make your feeling less hard. On the contrary. You despise your own self even more than any of these men. They're pigs. Unworthy of licking the feet of the superior female you’re here to support.

You take a seat and order a drink from the waitress who smiles at you kindly.

“Lexi, right?”

You nod with a questioning look.

”Candy is talking about nothing but you all day today. She's so lucky top have friend like you."

“Uhm… Thanks. “

You feel yourself blush harder than for any sexual thing you did this week.

“But I'm really glad yo have her too. Wouldn't know what to do without her?”

She smiles even warmer.

“She didn't mention you’d come today, too?”

"Haven't told her. Thought I’d surprise her again.”

“Good idea. Never seen her so happy as yesterday!”

You smile shyly. You envoy making Clara happy, but of course you also couldn't help coming here today because you thought about your friend all night and all day. The mix of feeling of a deeper friendship than you ever had with anyone but also an undeniable sexual attraction to your BFF are confusing you. The butterflies in your stomach whenever you think of her. Which is almost always and the deep desire to protect and console and take care of her are reaching into your soul like nothing you've felt before. You DO think you have a word for it, but you hesitate to admit it even to yourself. You sip on your drink an turn your attention to the stage to distract yourself. The girl's dancing is great. Not as sexy, dainty, lovely, adorable, prefect as Clara, but then gain who is… You sigh and take another sip. But the girl is great – graceful, athletic, in perfect harmony with the music. She flirts just enough with the men to keep their attention glued to her but not too much to give up any control. She’s the centre of attention, she's the one who matters, the guys are just cash-cows, throwing their money onto the stage. She looks and smiles at you more than once – you assume dancing for a female guest who appreciates her for more than just the meat on her bones must be nice – you notice all the girls after her pay lot of attention to you – only now do you understand the difference between honest attention from them and the fake one you got as a man every time you threw a banknote. There's solidarity between you and them now, before there was just disdain from them for you.

At long last, Clara – Candy comes to he stage. She looks around the audience and her face brightens like the sun when she spots you. Her moves become more swaying, her whole dance more sensual. It may be wishful thinking but you don’t think so. You clearly don't imagine her mostly dancing for you again, your eyes as a long regular guest of this joint as well as your new feminine view both tell you this dance is again for you, And it ends like that, too. Candy’s final move when she dropped her whole costume is to bend over and spread her cheeks and lips – to you. You’re no stranger to each others' private parts – the memories of your shared youth have now firmly established equally to your memoires of being a teenage boy: Your experimentations let you pleasure her with your fingers some times , but this situation, seeing Clara’s spread pussy in this purely sexual, seductive way not meant for a friend makes your get wet like rarely before. Ans when she winks at you through her legs, you feel you could almost cum with on the spot.

She hurriedly grabs her money and clothes and runs over to you, not even caring for a moment if anyone wants her services. She throws her arms around you and you notice her smell of perfume, fresh sweat, hairspray Candy smells slightly different than the Clara you know, but you love both.

“We have to stop meeting this way”, she giggles.

“You have anyone who gets jealous?”

You wink at her as she blushes.

“Honestly, maybe my boss might get a little miffed if I keep dancing to the same person. But I'm so glad you came.”

You smile – but also realize she may be joking but is right about it, too. You haven't even though about actually giving her any money like the male creeps waiting her. You're sure she wouldn't want to, she DOES thoroughly seem to enjoy dancing for you, but... Yeah. She’s on work time after all. When she dances and now too technically. If you come here like this - and you really enjoy to, you might want so… And of course there's another part in you that does NOT just consider what you're about to say next to do her a favour. It fits – very neatly - into your own - new agenda about you BFF.

“Maybe we should give your boss a reason to – approve of my presence a bit more!”

She looks at you questioningly.

“Is he here?”

She points at a man in slightly garnish clothes at the bar who Is looking at you. You smile, pull out a 50, hold it up ostentatiously.

"There's no rule against women getting lap-dances, I hope!”

Candy looks at you open mouthed, then giggles.

“Lexi, you don’t have to…”

“But I want to!”

And you do. For more reasons than one.

Candy looks at you, at the banknote over to her boss.

“This is weird.”

You wink at her.

"Oh, come on, you've practised your dance moves with me before your very first strip job. I've seen it all.”

“Yea, but…”

“Shhh…”

You put a finger on her mouth, getting a little impatient with your BFF. Your pussy is burning now, you may have it under more control than you used to have your cock, but your control isn’t limitless.

“the customer is always right, Candy. Or yo yo want me to call over your boss and complain?”

You grin and she starts to giggle.

“Oh, no, please, don’t call my mean old boss, Ma’am. I’ll do everything you want!”

"Now THAT'S the spirit!”

You sit down and nod. She smiles down at you and start swaying he hips, lusciously sliding her hands over her naked skin, pushing out her ass into your direction then turning around, bending over and dangling her tits into your face. You lick your lips, remember the time you playfully or not so playfully touched them, from the first time Clara needed to be persuaded that they'd still grow over the times you helped her pick a bra when they did until the day of her ruined prom date when she let you touch her all over in her drunk sadness. You’d love to lick them, but it’s against the rules and you wouldn't want her nor her boss to get the wrong idea. Or the right one.

Eventually she sits down on your lap, her firm ass that you always enjoyed watching grinding against your crotch. It’s not the same as when she did that to Alexander, anatomically, obviously – the rubbing hits not stops that means you're in imminent danger of cumming within seconds as you usually did – but also on a whole other level. Without that hard annoying thing between you, the curve of her body fits yours like made for it. You feel her back pressing against your breasts, her hair touches your face an tickles your nose, and having her sit there feels right in a way it never did when you were a man.

She turns around and straddles you, puts her arms on your shoulders, looks you in the eyes. Her face is flushed, her eyes shine. You’ve NEVER seen this expression on her as a man, her feigned excitement and faked sympathies are nothing in the light of this, She's happy, she's contend, she loves doing this, you can tell. No way she’s that good at faking it for her best friend. No way would she even try. Her naked breasts press against the texture of your clothed ones. You don't hear the music as you look into her eyes or the guests or take notice of the seedy joint you’re in. You’re with your best friend, alone, together. With the woman you love. Always loved. More than anything. You can’t help yourself.

“I love you, Clara.”

She giggles.

“I love you, too, bestie.”

You shake your head.

“No, really. I’m serious. I - LOVE you.”

You take her face into your hands. Screw the club rules.

“I want you to be mine. Be my girlfriend, Clara!”

She’s staring at you. Her mouth opens.

You hadn't thought you'd ever see her speechless.

[Lock In Event – this choice determines the ending of the girlfriend ark. Should you pursue this careerer path, the lovers Ark will be your only job and plot line plot on Friday and determine your fate should you not turn back into a man on Sunday.

This is the last choice influencing the possible endings. If you chose the lover’s plot, all other decisions you locked in until this point will be overruled and it will be the predestined plot if you stay a woman.

If you have locked in a plot line already and reuse the lover’s thread, that earlier decision will stand.

Note: It is not required to chose any career or side hustle path to come to an ending. Should you refuse all he choices offered to you today, you’ll be transferred to your old cubicle job on Friday and face your fate from that point, keeping the experiences and points you’ve made.]