To your job as a stripper

You enter the strip club – through the back entrance for the first time. The hall, leading to the dancers' changing room is bare, lit by flickering neon lamps, but at least it’s clean. This is were the magic happens. You take a deep breath and enter the dressing room. It’s filled with gorgeous women in their 20s and 30s, in all stages of undress. You feel your mouth go dry and your pussy tingle. As a man you would have completely frozen in this pussy paradise – as a woman you have a lot more control over our base urges – sometimes you look back on your life as a man and can’t help but feel a little disgust about how controlled by his pathetic dick that guy was – but you still do enjoy this sight. All of these women are beautiful, Greek statues with perfect bodies.

OK, of course none of them have technically perfect bodies – you scoff as you imagine men, like yourself back in the days judging them – complain about breasts slightly sagging, or asses being too small. But you see them now as they really are. Strong women, confident in their body and their sexuality, determined to use the gifts of the Goddess to sexploit those creeps who would say such a thing. And once they're out on stage or on the laps of those guys, none of the men would think of saying such a thing, they’ll all drool and leer and pay all the money they have to be in the divine presence of these girls.

Candy comes up to you, topless, and hugs you tightly.

“Gypsy. So good to see you. I’m glade you came.”

You gladly return her hug, pressing her bare tits against yours.

“Why wouldn't I?”

“Oh, so many girls get cold feet on their first day..”

You shake your head – maybe a little more vehemently than you intended.

“No way. I really liked it yesterday. Do you think it’s weird that I'm looking forward to this job?"

She giggles.

“Not at all. There are too many prejudices and wrong ideas about strippers out there. And don’t get me wrong, if you end in the wrong place or don't do it out of your own free will, it sucks. But then, all jobs do, if you got the wrong boss of are made to do it, right? If you know what you do and do it well – it's a rush! Like none I know!"

You nod, glad you're not the only one.

“The men my think they’re the head honchos down there with their pocket full of the smallest banknotes, but when they see a nice set of tits of god forbid a juicy pussy, they're putty in your hands. I never had as much power over anyone than I have over these creeps!”

She laughs and you smile

“That’s just what I felt, yesterday! Say - is this even your shift?”

She smirks.

“I switched. Wanted to be here when you arrive.”

“That’s awfully nice...”

She winks at you

“I'm only being egoistic, really. I want to work with you, Lexi."

She hugs you.

“I feel I can talk yo you, the other girls are…”

“Bitch, who is that tart?”

You hear Sky from her place before the big mirror. You know ll the girls’ names from your days as a male regular, but hold yourself back. You really shouldn't know them.

"This tart is the new dancer and you better watch your mouth if you don't' want me to wash it out!”, you shout.

Your not sure where that comes form . A bout of male aggression? You never were much of a fighter as a man though, this feels more like something on your feminine side. An insight in how to talk to certain women. You've noticed anyway that while you lack the need for showy aggressive outbursts to impress, you feel a lot stronger and secure since you occupy this body. You attempts to show dominance when needed are less flashy, but more effective now. Your ideas about “the stronger sex” have changed quite drastically recently. Sky grins.

“Feisty. You may actuality make it a while here. I’m, Sky.”

“Gypsy. And what I said applies to all of you. And in regard to me new friend, too!”

You put an arm around Candy’s shoulder. You don't know if you feel so protective about her because she used to be your favourite, because he was so kind to you or because despite her cheery and imperturbable façade, she clearly has some issues with some of these girls and needs a friend.

Candy looks at you with wide eyes before she does the introduction of the others.

“Tiffany. Jewel. Bambi. Sapphire.”

You nod – if any of them is as a bitch as Candy seemed to imply, your little sparring with Sky holds them in check

Candy pulls out a hanger with some tiny bits of cloth.

“The boss told me go give you the costume he picked for you.”

You guess it’s supposed to look exotic. Transparent silk, gold chains, colourful patterns on the few bits big enough to actually allow for patterns. Even a veil.

“I think it’s supposed to match your name…”

You frown.

"Looks ore like a harem **** than a Gypsy.”

Candy snickers and some of the others laugh.

“This isn't exactly an anthropology class.”

Bambi interjects – male you would have been surprised to hear her say such a big word, new you is not. At all. These girls are a lot deeper than the guys out in front would guess or care.

Candy smiles.

“'Exotic' pretty much overs everything that isn’t… “she looks around. Tiffany in her school uniform, Bambi in a fur bikini complete with ears on her had and a tail, Sky as a nurse, Jewel as a sexy cop - you wonder if the black dancer is trying to make some kind of statement - Sapphire in a cheerleader uniform and Candy herself in a feathery affair reminding you old fashioned burlesque. You smile.

“It's not meant to stay on for long, anyway, right?”

The girls snicker.

“And here's the list of songs. You get last pick as the new girl, but they're all good, really. I recommend you vary between fast and slow. Some girl like to start slow and let it all out in the last ones or start hard and ease out, but I feel a good mix gets the guest in the best mood.”

You nod, write your name and the order next to some songs and Candy grabs the list.

“Gonna bring it too the DJ. Hurry up. You're up in five minutes !”

"Five..."

You're caught in surprise.

“The boss said to be in time and he’s not one to give us a lot of slack. I’m sure it’s a test if you’re reliable...”

You quickly peel your clothes off , throw them into an empty locker and put on your costume. Being focused on your task in a room full of semi- to fully naked women would have been literally impossible as a man. Now you still would like more time to enjoy the sights of the place, your new colleagues are as pretty as you remember them from when you were a guest even more so, really, with your new feminine eye you don't only see them as object of desire. They're individuals, strong women with a past and personality and that makes them all the more attractive. But as a woman you have yourself a lot better under control – just because you're aroused by the women around you doesn't mean you’re incapable of performing your tasks. You enjoy that about being a woman, that pesky little cock with its mind of its own was a real nuisance sometimes. Most of the time, come to think, of it. You surprise yourself you’re kind glad you don't have it any more...You take a breath. Silly. Of course you want it back. You're a man!

You put on your costume – with some effort; it’s full of more dangly bits and bobs than such a tiny outfit has any right to have - but by putting on the veil, you finally finish it. Not a moment to early. The music starts playing - Personal Jesus, by Depeche Mode. Not a classical striptease number, but you always found it hugely sexy. And still do. Some things didn't change.

“Gentlemen, and gentlemen, something very special for your our most cherished guests today. You may have seen her yesterday if you were here for her audition, but today is her official first time as a legitimate exotic dancer on any stage from here to Karachi. Where does she come from? Why did a gem like her hide all this time"

At the mention of the gem, you touch the one on your chest. It’s radiates warmth and seems – to approve.

“The mysterious, the exotic…”

You giggle. That guys was here yesterday, did he notice you're pale and blonde? Whatever, you're selling a fantasy, not an an anthropology lesson, indeed.

“GYPSY!”

You feel, the rush and exhilaration as the pervs in the audience leer at you. You're the centre of their attention, right now you could ask everything of them. They may believe they're in charge, but they’re just here to service your divine femininity.

You begin swaying to the music, the metal chains and clips of your skimpy harem costume jingle, and you notice your body gets the attention of your worshippers immediately. You feel a flow of energy from them to you, like you're sucking out their sexual life-**** to power yourself, up. You smile. It would explain why you always left this place depleted when you were a man, from this perspective you almost feel like a sexual Vampire. The banknotes fly onto the stage as your skimpy costume falls, baring your perfect C Cup tits and eventually your bottoms and panties. You leave the veil on, not because you'd be ashamed to show your faced, but because you like they way it add to your persona. And keep the creeps in the audience at a distance. You let them worship your body. Not your face. You kneel down and bend back – you picked a guy in the first row you you noticed spend a lot of notes to the stage and reward the little man with a glimpse between your spread legs. He’s as pathetic as you expect – eyes glazed over, mouth open, almost drooling. But he puts another note between your spread legs. A bigger one and you throw him a kiss.

You pick up your money and clothes from the stage and return to the hanging rooms. Candy comes running and hugs you tightly.

“That was so great, Gypsy. You're sure you never danced professionally before?”

You smile shyly. You haven't danced at tall, unless you count jerky twitches alone or awkward shoving trying to hide your boner while slow dancing. Dancing very much seems a part of the new set of skills your female body comes with to express your femininity.

“Such a natural!"

"You know what they say about natural dancers, right!”

Sky is getting ready to go on stage

“If you got the rhythm horizontally, you also got it laying down!”

She puts a hand on your naked ass and licks your sweaty neck.

“If you’re into ladies I wouldn’t mind trying that theory, you DO know how to move”

She slaps your ass and leaves for the stage laughing

Candy blushes.

“Don’t mind Sky, she loves to provoke. Especially new girls…”

You nod. Not that you minded, that was… almost as exhilarating as the dance.

After the next dance, a faster number that makes your heart pound and your whole body burn, the guy you opened your pussy for in the first gig calls you over for a lap-dance.

You don't find him particularity attractive – quite overweight, balding, and the light in her isn't flattering his double chin... your taste in men that you developed within the last three days is refined – but you really enjoy the way he looks at you, like you're the golden calf. Again you get the impression he actively has to stop himself from drooling. You lay down the rules – unnecessarily, he’s a regular, smitten by the new girl - and begin.

You heat him up with a little prelude – shake your ass into his face, you noticed he was one of the few staring at that more than your tits - but of course he doesn't really need warming up.

You’re topless only wearing your G-string panties. But he’s disciplined. Not a skill you’d usually grant these men when their peckers get hard. But you know from your own experiences as a man in this joint that you don't stay long enough to enjoy it if you're not. His hands stay on his side as you grind your ass into his crotch with your back turned to him, and as a reward, you turn around, straddle him and look him into the eyes, your tits, almost pressed against his sweaty face. Also from experience you know that eye contact matters even more than the tits, and you're right. Despite the perky jugs in front of his eyes he can hardly turn them away from your peepers – the imitation of personal contact gets these pathetic males harder than your sex pot body and within minutes, he contorts, grunts and cums in his pants.

You kiss him on the forehead, pat his cheeks and stuff the 50 bucks into your panties and walk back into the changing room where Candy again awaits.

”How was your first lap dance?"

“As pitiful as expected.”

She giggles.

“Does any of them ever last longer than three minutes.?”

She shakes her head.

“Barely. Good for us, right? 50 bucks for two minutes of work."

“Minus the boss’s share.”

“Sure.”

She shrugs.

”Unless he agrees to take his pay in kind…”

You lift an eyebrow

“He does that?

“Well. Not from EVERY girl, obviously, but one or two every night…”

“Hm.”

You need to think about that.

The rest of your work runs smoothly, you become ever more secure on stage, the feeling of dominating the crowd with your body and moves more exhilarating every time the music starts. You get called for two more lap dances, one for the same guy who got the first - your first fan, it seems, and another one who lasts even less long.

Eventually the shift comes to an end and the boss comes backstage.

“Great first night, Gypsy. Really talented. I’m glad I hired you. “

You nod, smiling.

“Thanks, boss, I’m glad, too.”

“And you even hit the big jackpot!”

The other’s girls’ heads turn.

“On her first day?”

He shrugs.

"Not my choice, I just relay the guests wishes."

You frown.

“What the hell a re you talking about?”

Remember when I said yesterday, we’re a legit business? Mostly true, but I wouldn't want to let such petty morality stand in the way of my girls making money. So… if a guest is willing to pay – extraordinarily well…”

He looks at you.

“Then what?”

"I do not object to him taking a girl on a – private date. A paid date. For a small... commission. “

“You are pimping us out, is what you say?”

“Of course not. I don't employ whores. I just make the contact between two consenting adults. IF you want to... escort him in your private a time it's your own thing.”

“And I can say no?”

He looks hurt.

“What the hell make you think I'd **** you into anything?”

You look at the other girls ans the nod.

“He’s legit.”

Candy offers.

“If you say no, you can work here, but if you say yes… His 'little commission' is - quite high. If anyone is willing to pay that much just to get to know you, you got a – very generous fan…”

“Who?”

“Can’t you guess?”

“That little bald fat guy who paid for two lap dances?"

“That’s - one way to describe him, but I think he’d prefer “Chairman of the CCC”. Well. Not in here, maybe...”

“That’s the Big Man of the Christian Conservative Coalition? I didn't recognize him...”

“Not looking like his PR photos, that’s for sure.”

“What is he doing in here?”

“The same thing everyone else does. As to why _here _and not somewhere more – classy – the more class, the more he runs into danger of meeting people form his part of the town. He likes our – familiar atmosphere.”

You take a minute. You can’t say you particularly like the guys. Never voted for him, that’s for sure. Nor are you attracted to him, but… you touch the gemstone around your neck.

Becoming a whore… escort, call-girl, whatever. Would that help you tune into your feminine side. You certainly don't’ find the thought appalling, You don't have to like him, making money with this perfect female body. And the way you had him under your thumb during the lap-dance. You have little doubt you can stay on top and extort men for money in that job without letting go of control…..

[Lock In Event – this choice determines the ending of the stripper ark. Should you pursue the stripper or the whore careerer path, that ark will be your only job and plot line 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 choose the stripper or whore plot line, 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 plotline already and refuse the both the stripper and the whore 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.]